Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  The poor man crawled forward, sweating, crying, bruised and battered from the fall he took. His lank, oily, brown hair hung in his face. Not exactly leadership potential in my book, but, hey, whatever works.

  “P-please, my lord,” he moaned, in a thick guttural accent. “Have mercy.”

  “Why should I?” I snapped. “You dared hunt me. You aimed to hang my hide on your paltry wall.”

  “I pray you,” the man cried. “We are simple men. We knew not of your divinity.”

  Startled, I ceased my sword’s song. “Divinity?”

  The leader ceased his groveling and dared to look up. Just for a moment. Then his face pitched into the stones once more. “Are you not a god?”

  “Tell them yes.”

  “No,” I growled. “I’m gai-tan.”

  The other three crawled forward on their hands and knees, joining their leader in worship. They prostrate themselves, faces full into the twigs and dirt. Bellies on the ground, arms forward – oh, no, time out – wait –

  I recoiled, alarmed. This isn’t right, I thought frantically, everyone take a chill pill and reconsider this. This isn’t what I want. I’d no idea my polite request to be left alone resulted in wolf-worshipping fanatics. Just scare them a little, then send them home with a sharp lesson: don’t hunt me again. That’s easy enough? Right?

  “Pray, sir,” the leader wept, his tears mingling with the melted ice on his pale face. “What is – gai-tan?”

  “I’m a werewolf.”

  Werewolf. Werewolf. They muttered the word amongst themselves while still prostrate in the pine needles. I grew impatient. And cold. I needed back inside my wolf body, and warm fur, like, yesterday.

  “Get up,” I snapped, shivering, barely preventing my teeth from displaying my weakness. “Cease this nonsense.”

  They obeyed, jumping to their feet as though on strings. They bowed low, their steel vanishing into sheaths as though baring a blade to a gai-tan was catamount to threatening a god with violence. Finding them as helpless as newborn puppies, I shoved my own blade into my sheath, frustrated. I ran my hand through my hair.

  “What’s your name?” I demanded.

  The leader stepped forward, bowing, knuckling his brow. “I am Tadao, clan chief of the Farouk. This is my brother, Anil.”

  He seized a young man by the collar and yanked him upright. Anil bowed, also knuckling his brow.

  “And these are Salim and Salic, brothers and friends.”

  The other two paid their respects, sweat dripping down their high, narrow cheekbones.

  All of them had the same lanky brown hair that fell to their shoulders, scrawny beards and pale skin stretched taut over angular cheeks and eye sockets, reminiscent of the Kel’Hallans. However, the Kel’Hallans never looked as though they owned the faces of starved children. I wagered these fellows ate less than Arianne.

  Their bright eyes, blue and brown equally, watched me with both intelligence and a righteous zealous hunger. I gulped, sweating despite the cold mountain breeze. No one was as fanatical as a true convert.

  “I’m Raine, Prince of Connacht,” I said, praying reason might work here. “By right of birth, I’m also gai-tan. I’m travelling to the far north of here. Don’t delay me, and I’ll mosey along. No one gets hurt, see?”

  “An it please thee, Lord Raine,” Tadao muttered, prostrating himself again. “Come with us to our people. We will feed and clothe you and offer you worship as our god.”

  Within my head, Darius chuckled.

  Gods above and below, I swore, astonished.

  “You are the son of a god. Perhaps you should take them up on their offer.”

  “And abandon you to eternity in prison?”

  “Well –“

  “I’m tempted to do just that, but I’d not abandon the wolves to their fate.”

  I stared down at the four squirming in the dirt, twigs and stones at my feet. Just how the hell did this happen?

  “Don’t you have your own gods to worship?” I asked.

  “We worship the spirits of the air, the trees, the forest creatures,” Tadao answered, his accent so thick I barely understood him. “You are a living god, come down to guide us and lead us.”

  “You’re wrong, my friend,” I answered. “I’m simply a man who is also a wolf. Nothing more, and certainly not divine.”

  “Oh, really?”

  I growled low in my throat. The four before me cringed, as though they expected me to pounce on them and bite through their exposed necks. “Just be quiet, will you? Please?”

  “Please, it is? I think I like this new politeness in you.”

  I glared at the four. “I am not your new god.”

  “We offer you worship as our god and our king,” Tadao said, his face in the dirt.

  “This is ridiculous,” I grumbled, inwardly, to Darius.

  “I rather like it.”

  “I don’t require your worship,” I growled, aloud. “Just your obedience.”

  “We hear and obey, lord,” Tadao intoned. His friends muttered much the same.

  “Don’t hunt me again,” I snapped. “Leave all wolves strictly alone.”

  “We hear and obey, lord.”

  Inspiration struck me, from where I’d no idea. “Should one day I have need of you,” I said. “You’ll remember how I spared your lives. You’ll heed my call and come.”

  “We hear and obey, lord.”

  “You and all your people.”

  “We hear and obey, lord.”

  “Now go,” I said, more kindly. “Feed your people and hunt no wolves. One day, I might return.”

  I grinned. “Just to check up on you.”

  The four continued to wriggle around, sweating, filling my nostrils with their noxious fear-sweat odor. I sighed. I’d had enough.

  Too cold to withstand more of this, I changed back into my warm wolf body. On four legs again, I stared at those that offered me worship. Unease trickled into my gut. This isn’t right, I thought.

  Tadao glanced up, his eyes round with awe and wonder as he gazed once more at me, in my immense wolf form. He nudged his friends. They rose from their bellies to sit back on their butts. Their fear slid away, leaving a new brightness to their eyes, a fresh inspiration in their expressions.

  “We await your return, lord,” Tadao said, the light in his pale eyes changing to fanaticism. “We will answer your call.”

  “Lord,” the others intoned.

  This isn’t good, I thought.

  I nodded to them, my wolf head bobbing once in acknowledgement. Had I spoke, I might sound like I was growling, for I doubted they spoke wolf, and frighten them again. I didn’t think I could take much more of their bellies in the dirt.

  High time I bolted. I needed to continue my journey north. Hopefully, I thought, without any more idiot hunters and their hounds.

  Turning, I leaped over a huge boulder, past their frightened hounds and spooked horses. Loping into the forest, I listened, my ears turned back to catch any sound. I heard mumbles of relief as they gathered their animals together. No indication they intended to follow me. As worshipers or as hunters.

  “A real wolf would kill them,” Darius commented.

  “If you hadn’t noticed,” I replied dryly. “I’m not a real wolf.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  I ignored him as I galloped on, leaping past obstacles with ease, keeping a weather eye on the storm over the high mountains to the north. The dark grey fog had drifted south, now encircling the feet of the range. The sky darkened, the sunshine grew weaker as the day wore on. A chilling breeze picked up, sending the temperature into a steep dive. Sharp needles of wind-driven rain burrowed into my fur, despite my heavy overcoat. The bad weather Darius predicted had arrived on swift wings.

  “I do have to admit, however.”

  “What?”

  “You handled that quite well. I stand amazed.”

  “Why?” I snapped, jumping dead logs and loping past thickets of smal
l pine, thorn bushes and rocks. I sprinted ever upward, aiming for elevation, toward the autumn storm that moved to greet me with open arms. “I know you wanted me to kill them. I felt it.”

  “True. But after you allowed them to live, I began to think you’re a tactical genius.”

  I snorted, laughing inwardly. “Why? Because some primitives think of me as their god?”

  “Exactly. You have foresight. You may need them one day.”

  “Not bloody likely,” I answered, slowing to scent the breeze. A sweet, interesting odor tickled my nostrils. I passed my tongue over my nose, wetting it, bringing it into sharp relief. My ears high, I listened to the soft tearing of the late season grass, small hooves crunching the tundra, baas as ewes called to their lambs. Ah, those feral sheep I admired. Just over that hill. The wind was in my favor, this time. “I’ll be dead at winter solstice.”

  “Not that tired argument again. Give it a rest.”

  “After the Guardian is dead and either I am dead or I’m not. Until then, I’m a walking dead wolf. And a hungry one.”

  I crouched low, stalking, my body hugging the earth, not yet sighting my prey. My ears and nose told me the flock grazed on the opposite side of the hill I had almost loped over. Another thicket of rocks and stunted pine crested the hill, allowing for some cover. I crept up, one slow paw at a time, silent, my breathing soft. Setting my feet carefully on solid ground or large stones, not twigs that could snap or rocks that could roll, I slid like a furry black eel up the hill. Wolf instincts took over once more. I gave in to them, allowing them control over my mind and my body.

  Under the cover of the pine, I paused, my body slung low to the ground, and peeped down.

  The flock grazed in hurried fashion, their wooly backsides toward the freshening wind. They, too, knew they needed as much food in their bellies before the storm hit. My instinct, not Darius, told me they’d feed until the last minute. Then they’d bolt for shelter amongst the pine thickets, against the tall rock formations, safely sheltered from the howling, chilling winds blasting down from the north. The young lambs, protected under the warm bodies of their mothers, nursed on warm milk while their dams with lowered heads shut eyes against the icy blast. There they’d wait out the storm, their thick fleeces protecting them against the fierce mountain rains and snows to come. In this fashion, the sheep had survived for time out of mind.

  Thus, filling their bellies as quickly as possible attracted their single-minded attention. They failed to post a lookout, and also failed to cast about themselves with sight, sound and smell. A predator’s god-send.

  “I didn’t send them.”

  “That’s all right,” I replied, silent. “I forgive you this time.”

  Darius’ affront made me laugh, inwardly of course. I poured down the hill, a dark shadow amongst the late afternoon’s darkened storm-filled skies. A ram lifted its heavily horned head to glance about, vertical pupils in amber-brown eyes dilated in the thin sunlight. He saw nothing to worry him and bent once more to tug the thin grass up by its roots. He ambled a step, still biting and chewing, then hoofed another.

  I sighed. He wasn’t my target this day, magnificent trophy though he was. Had I been human, I might prize his noble head and huge curved horns. I’d risk all to slay him for his horns rather his meat. Instead, I ignored him and his armament for a meal I stood a chance in hell of obtaining. In safety, he walked in the very midst of the flock, protected. This wolf craved sweeter prey: a victim much closer and easier to kill.

  I selected a heavily pregnant ewe as my quarry. She grazed close to the herd, but her back was to me. No sheep walked near to her, and they faced me, their backsides to the freshening northern breeze. That slight wind brought their warm scents into my face, filling my senses with images of hot blood and warm meat filling my empty stomach. Hunger gnawed, grinding into my vitals. I willed it to silence, not wanted my growling gut to warn my victim.

  The ewe stalled, finding tender shoots to pull and nibble while her sisters ambled away, drifting to the east and west. They grazed but a few rods from her, but in fact she isolated herself. The wolf’s turn had come.

  “How dramatic,” Darius sighed.

  Ignoring him had become, to me, an art form. I hurried into the shelter of the next rock, fitting myself behind it. The ewe lifted her head for a moment, nostrils quivering. The freshening air pushed itself into her backside and past it, into mine. Finding nothing to concern her, she discovered yet more delectable grass and devoured hungrily. The unborn babe inside her was also famished. She ate for two. Or possibly even three.

  Now only a rod or two separated us. The ewe was faster than the bull, despite her heavy body. She had plenty of open ground to bolt over. No obstacles stood in her trajectory to halt or slow her escape. For her, the safety of the flock and the rams’ huge armament lay dead ahead.

  Had I a pack, a wolf might have driven her forward, while another cut off her escape. I had no pack. I had just myself and an irritating voice in my head.

  “Excuse me?”

  If I crept to the left, into that thicket, and hide for a few moments, she might wander toward that wall-sized pile of half-boulders and dead tree limbs. If she did that, I could lunge from the side, her left. She’d bolt to the right. Smack into a wall. Though she could leap it, her pregnant body might very well desert her in her hour of need. With time, she could leap it. If I deprived her of that time, she’d be mine.

  “A good plan, that. Can you get there? Undetected?”

  Picturing a shadow within my mind, I slunk into the thicket, my body so low to the stony ground my belly caught on snags and small rocks. Once inside I settled deep into it, and lay silent, still. The flock never paid my movement any mind at all. Obviously, they hadn’t seen it.

  The ewe, in fact, cooperated nicely, grazing toward me and away from the slightly frightening wall. Undisturbed, the flock spread across in a wider area, comfortable with their surroundings. My target ewe nibbled toward me, her left side toward me, open to attack.

  I waited, patient, silent, frozen. I willed her to take one step, then yet another, toward me. She obeyed my silent command. Oblivious of my presence, she grazed a mere rod or so from where I lay in hiding.

  Now.

  My instinct cracked inside my skull. Instantly, I leaped out and down. The ewe wheeled, bleating in panic, and galloped toward the flock and safety. My wall lay between her and them. It formed an effective block, forcing her to hesitate. Should she leap it? Or should she go around?

  That hesitation cost the ewe her life.

  My sheer weight across her back snapped her spine before my fangs broke her neck. Down, legs still trying to run but with her brain dead and heart dying, she struggled, trying to flee. The flock, happy they weren’t my target, abandoned her to her fate. They scampered over the rocks and thickets, and disappeared over the crest of the hill.

  I felt an instant of pity, my brief moment of wishing my life hadn’t depended upon the ewe’s, there and gone in a flash. This was the struggle for survival and only the strong, and pitiless, lived. The weak, the stupid, the helpless became the prey of those stronger, meaner and faster. I didn’t much like living such a life. But the wolves’ and their need to have their god returned dictated my actions. I must be strong, for them. The weak must die and sustain me.

  I drank her blood and feasted on the bounty of the ewe and her unborn offspring.

  “A wolf doesn’t feel pity.”

  “This one does.”

  “I’ll make a wolf of you yet.”

  My mouth full, I spoke silently. “Your scion I may be. I reckon I am both man and wolf. But I am not your servant, and never will be.”

  “Oh, this is fun.”

  While I hated Darius getting in the last word, I concerned myself with getting as much of the ewe into my stomach as quickly as possible. The storm from the high north arrived with bells on. Rain fell, thickly, the rising wind whipping it into a sideways slant. Even through my black coat, the
bitter cold bit deep. I had perhaps an hour, maybe two, to eat as much as I could hold. I needed to find shelter, any shelter, from the storm.

  While not cold enough to actually freeze me, my already weakened body had enough problems without the icy rain adding more. With a full belly, some shelter from the worst of the wind and rain, I’d sleep and perhaps regain some much necessary strength. The storm gave me a handy excuse to do exactly what my body needed.

  Full to bursting, I abandoned the ewe’s remains to the ravens and foxes. Scenting water, I loped to a nearby stream. It burbled over sharp rocks, a rod or more wide, and ran by me swiftly and deadly. A pool protected by a fallen pine allowed me a silent and deep place from which to drink. I continued to lap long past my initial thirst quenching, not knowing when I may drink next. As my wolf instincts so instructed me to do.

  “Listen to them.”

  Feeling bloated and very sated, I jumped the pool and followed the stream’s narrow ravine uphill at a swift lope. Though my very full stomach wanted to hold me back, I ignored its taut complaints as I ignored Darius and his trite comments.

  “Trite?”

  Following both nose and instincts, I galloped on at a steady pace, into the storm’s teeth. Slashing rain mixed with snow saturated my coat and whitened the mountains. As I ran, the rain grew heavier and the sky darker, I found and discarded potential shelter. A fallen oak tree, no. The same to a spiny thicket. No handy cave to hide in, either.

  Wait. I passed it at first, dismissing it, then turned back for a second look. This might work, I thought, peering into a sharp overhang of rock that easily shielded me from the cold northern wind. Above, a large cliff rose up, covered at its crest with thick trees and bramble. Below, the hill sloped sharply downward, creating a tiny cave of about five rods deep and the same long. It offered me protection from the rain and the storm, its thick bed of pine dry needles gave me a snug bed to sleep upon.

  I ducked inside, inhaling the musty odor of generations of pine needles buried here, testament to the shelter against wind, rain and snow it offered. Mice squeaked in panic, fleeing my paws and my presence, rustling to safety amid the twigs, pine needles and debris blown under the overhang. I shook violently, sending rain from my fur in a shower.