Minerva and her sire stayed put in the small hidden camp they made. She'd cooked the whole Muntjac and portioned it up, wrapping it in small chunks of fabric and packing it away in her back pack.
They had no reason to move so they stayed near the stream for a few days, nothing much changed. Every night, wolf let out a long howl, the cry for a pack. And every night they were both hit with grief and disappointment when no one replied.
One calm quiet morning they decided it was time to move on. The Muntjac had gone rotten and they needed a fresh hunting ground. Minerva was walking slowly down on the edge of the river, they followed the stream down, knowing that every animal had to drink.
Her eyes were scanning the sharp rocks and pebbles under foot, she was looking for spear heads. Sharp fragments of barbed flint worked best.
They both slowly plodded along the river until they came to the edge of the forest, the trees cut away leaving a green meadow of tall grass and wild flowers. The stream was getting bigger slowly turning more into a river. It meandered its way between the lush grass land and the hedge rows in the far distance.
Minerva looked down at her wolf for reassurance. This would be their first time in months venturing out beyond the safe woodsland they had been calling home. The rolling fields looked so fresh the air was so pure, Minerva looked up at the clear grey sky. The sun was struggling to shine through the thin layer of milky white clouds.
They both started walking through the hip height grass, the wolf walked invisibly, perfectly hidden. Minerva on the other hand was quite visible. Her light brown hair waved down over her back pack.
They both carried on walking along the river bank for a couple miles until they came to a bridge.
A few stray trees where dotted along the small country road and on the bank.
She crouched down and petted her sire. The wolf looked up at her and rubbed its head on her hip, Minerva smiled and started walking again around the bridge and onto the road.
She examined either way of the small country lane, one way it seemed to climb up a hill, and into a small wooded area, the other way the road stretched out far into the distance with grassy fields either side.
"You choose. What way?" Minerva said looking down to see the wolf walking to the left, following the road deeper into the grass land.
Minerva nodded and started walking behind the wolf along the edge of the road. The tarmac was starting to crack open and a variety of green mosses and lichens had started to flourish taking back the land that the humans had stolen.
The grass land was much more silent then the woods, it made Minerva nervous. She was out in the open, exposed to the elements and to any other creatures.
And after walking for miles the landscape changed dramatically, the grassland was cut away and stone walls divided up old fields that were once used for agricultural purposes. And hedge rows spilt up the never ending grass.
The occasional lonely tree was buried deep into the grass and on its branches, held flocks of crows and black birds that were gathered, busy building nests and tending to their young.
The wolf stopped and Minerva busy day dreaming almost tripped over the wolf, but she quickly regained her balance and stared to follow what the wolf was staring at.
High up in the sky, a solitary bird flew, circling them. It was to small it be a kite or a buzzard. It must have been a sparrow hawk, but sparrow hawks don't usually fly high, they hunt at tree height.
Minerva looked around. She knew something was up.
The bird dived down to the ground straight into the tall grass about quarter a mile in front of them.
YOU ARE READING
The wolf Scâir
WerewolfUNDER EDITING/STILL WRITING The world government stepped in and ordered the capture and transportation of any "Scair". A new species of Homo sapiens. One that had 2 bodies. The worlds had gone into panic mode. And out of that panic was born a new...
