His Wolf

Chapter 2

The road was tedious to navigate. Ice and sleet had made it slippery and only his experience kept all four tyres on the narrow road.

It would be twenty long minutes before he would enter the massive field that was his front yard. Seventy hectares of slopes and Two hundred of pine forest.

It had taken his great grandfather and father ten years to clear the field. They had farmed cattle and now caribou for over fifty years. The meat gave an extra income for Anton but he wasn't the farmer that his father had been.

His herds were mainly for him to eat by himself during winter and the predators weeded out the weak. He let nature do her thing. Wolves would feast on a caribou with a broken leg rather than the healthiest animal in the herd.

Only the strongest survive.

Every second week Anton went hunting. His newest investment had profited him nicely in the last two years. The snowmobile could reach even the remotest parts of his land.

The whole two hundred and seventy hectares were protected by him. His heart beat for nature for the celestial aura that the Alaskan plane gave him. It was a place for lonely people.

The snow crunched under the tyres. Branches snapped under the weight until he was under the starlit sky. The herd had come up to the homestead he observed as caribou trotted out of the path of his Troopy. They had gotten used to the spitting and huffing of the engine a long time ago.

Their eyes reflected in the high beam headlights, steam rose from their warm breath and the snow was impaled with hundreds of holes as they moved further up the slope and towards the forest.

Without warning the herd of forty animals began running. Legs were drawn high up to their bodies as they leaped into the air and up the mountain side. Anton hit the clutch and brake to avoid a collision. It was a mass of brown bodies that ran from left to right past the beams of light. Through the window Anton watched. The bleating was growing louder as the anxiety in the animals skyrocketed.

His own heart beat in rhythm with their frequent bleats. Through the thinning bodies he thought he saw a glimpse of white zoom by in the mix. Did the light play tricks on him? The white blur passed by again, this time in the other direction.

The mass of the herd had passed and the mashed snow revealed the last two animals straggling away.

The bleats carried away up the hill as his herd fled the danger. The danger that was still fighting it's prey five metres before his bull bar.

The pristine white fur of the large wolf was splashed in red. It's eyes were flashing as they caught the beams of his lights.

The fierce creature didn't even flinch from the noise and smell of the old diesel. It had clearly encountered cars and machines before.

He watched in fascination as the beautiful wolf mauled his caribou in front of his tyres.

This was nature playing her game right in front of him.

The caribou twitched for the last time. The powerful maw of the wolf was firmly around it's trachea and clamped tighter as the last breath escaped the animal's lungs.

Finished killing it's prey the wolf licked it's lips and blinked. Then as if in slow motion the predator lifted it's head.

Anton gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles turned white as the blood drained from them. The leather protector creaked and his breath came in quick gasps. Even though it was freezing cold in the cabin of his car a bead of sweat curved down his brow. It traveled just past his eyebrow and moved along his clean cheek before disappearing in his cropped full beard.

The wolf lifted it's nose high in the air. Anton was waiting for the howl to follow, yet it never came. He had been close to wolves before but never this close.

The Wolf's nostrils flared. A cloud of breath escaped and was blown away by the wind. The nostrils flared again.

Then the head lowered. It's eyes drew level with his and he stopped breathing. Blue. The Wolf's eyes were the clearest glacial blue he had ever seen. He couldn't look away. He should, but he just couldn't.

Staring a predator directly in the eyes was a direct challenge to it's dominance. The Wolf's eyes flashed and in two leaps it was bracing itself on the hood of his car.

Still their eyes were locked. Warmth, surprisingly, swept through his veins in waves. Hot flushes tormented him as he couldn't tear his eyes down.

The white fur was bathed in shadow now. The light coming from behind the wolf made it's outline a dim silver. The eyes though seemed to have an inner light. Their colour remained at the same intensity.

The wolf took one last whiff before it licked it's lips and turned it's back. It jumped off and walked towards it's kill. Gripping one leg the big animal pulled the carcass down the slope a few metres. As if clearing the way for him to continue on his way.

Putting the gear back in he slowly drove past the feasting wolf. It glanced at him once as he was right behind it. Then continued it's meal.

The dead animal weirdly made his stomach growl. The wolves won't be hungry tonight.

Finishing his journey he parked his car under the army tent that served as a garage. He would unload the car tomorrow morning. His eyes drooped close as he grabbed the essentials and walked inside after unlocking his door.

They have the taste for human blood now. Old Pete's words echoed through his head as his body fell I to his mattress.

Just before his consciousness fell under the heavy blanket of sleep a thought sprang to the front of his mind.

He had only seen one wolf eating the caribou. Wolves hunted in packs, so what made this wolf hunt alone? And most important, why did his blood warm when he was thinking about the purest of whites the colour of snow? Precisely, the fur of one of the strongest wolves he had ever seen on his mountain?