Dark Stones Novella #2: Escape From the Army

Chapter 1 - Dour Beginnings

Nameless they were, as they were born slaves in the Army, a grand group of wolves working together under the rule of a huge wolf with supernatural powers. Some called him a King, or Lord, or General. But his name was Wessels.

He was the smallest of his litter, yet one of only two that survived. After his birth, he'd been given the designation Runt Seventeen. His sister was given the slightly better designation of Gray-and-Cream Twenty-Five.

His parents, also, were nameless. Both were small and frail-looking wolves, with protruding ribs and thin, messy coats.

Runt Seventeen loved his parents, though. The pair of them were among the only comforts he had in his miserable life. At only a month old he had been forcibly weaned, with his training beginning not long thereafter.

"Come on, Runt!" Gray-and-Cream Twenty-Five called.

Runt Seventeen sighed before stretching himself. He'd been curled up comfortably at his mother's flank in the cave, but he knew that he mustn't be late for his duties. He and Gray-and-Cream Twenty-Five would be punished if they didn't act as the soldiers commanded. Even now, at only two months old, the pups were expected to obey their superiors' every whim–no matter how cruel.

Runt Seventeen looked up at his mother, a gray she-wolf with a distinct white face and stomach, known as Gray-White Fifteen. She looked as dirty and weak as every other enslaved wolf in the Army, but he personally thought that she was the most beautiful of them all. He hoped that, when he fully shed his puppy coat, he'd end up with pretty fur just like hers.

Following his sister through the dark tunnel system, Runt Seventeen stumbled several times. The ground was rough, sharp, and uneven. It irritated his pads, but he knew he shouldn't complain.

"Hey, Runt," said a familiar voice. Runt Seventeen turned and smiled as he saw Pale Six approaching from a different side-tunnel to walk beside them. Pale Six was a strong-looking pup for his age. His puppy fur was still light-colored, given his namesake, and it promised to be even paler once he'd shed his coat.

"We have to go," Gray-and-Cream Twenty-Five said, dashing ahead.

Runt Seventeen sighed. "She's always like that. She almost seems to enjoy life like this."

Pale Six furrowed his brow. "I don't think that anyone in their right mind could ever enjoy life enslaved."

"I think she believes that she'll become important just because she's big and strong compared to most slave pups," Runt Seventeen grunted. "But that's never happened before."

"I know," sighed Pale Six. "Imagine if there was some way out for us... But you know what they say–once a slave, always a slave."

"But it didn't used to be like that!" Runt Seventeen replied, hushing his voice. "I know it's forbidden to speak about, but my Mom told me that once Packs here were free, too. Not a part of the Army and certainly not enslaved!"

"But what can we do to stop it?" Pale Six's ears drooped. "Even with so many of us slaves, we're all weak. The soldiers are with many, too, and will be able to stop any uprisings. Remember when they told us about killing that group of rebel slaves?"

Runt Seventeen shuddered at the memory. When the soldiers had recalled murdering the rebels' families as well, the lead wolf had smiled. As if he was proud of slaughtering innocent pups.

"Don't talk about such things!" A new, much more higher pitched voice joined the conversation. Runt Seventeen and Pale Six looked over their shoulders to see their other close friend, Furless One, approach. As his name indicated, he was born with the unique feature that he lacked a coat at all, instead being all pale skin.