Darkness Bellows

Running

I let out a sigh as the small white rabbit falls to the ground, it's head twisted at a strange angle. The puncture wounds in its neck indicate that I killed it, held it against its will as it slowly died.

I bite back a growl of disgust. It's reminds me of Seff.

For two years I've been on my own, running and running. I have no home, no family. Ever since the hunters came that snowy night, I never returned to my pack's home. What would be left if I did go back?

I try not to think about it.

Forgetting things is hard when all you have is memories of running. I still remember the fear in my parents eyes, the shock and dread in the howls of my packmates.

I look down on the animal I have just hunted, just killed. I feel bile rise in my throat, but force it down as I bite into the rabbit. It's plump and juicy, fattened by the fresh leaves of spring.

The forest buzzes with life. Squirrels chatter while mice dart across the pine needles, silent as they serve through the undergrowth. Birds sing happily in the treetops, as if they don't have a care in the world.

If only it was like that for everyone.

For the two years I've been running, I've meet several wolf packs. Most times, once they get a gold look at me, I'm off their territory in seconds. Other times they question me, like I'm a spy for another pack.

But on rare occasions, they welcome me to meet their alpha. At first, it seems like an action of kindness, but it can quickly turn into something dangerous.

Sometimes I catch the quiet murdering of female wolves in different packs, talking about the Nomad.

I guess that's what they call me. At least they don't call me a rogue.

They, and the bears, have been my biggest issue the past two years. Rogue wolves are driven mad by hunger, forced to hunt down anything, even if it means they get killed. It's a foolish thing really. Rogues are sneaky, manipulative, and deadly. I do my best to keep away from them.

My thoughts vanish, and are replaced by the sound of my thudding heart, as I hear a twig snap nearby. My mind goes numb and I snatch the rabbit in my jaws, kicking leaves over where it's blood lay.

As I hear a bird shriek in alarm, I don't take another moment to hide in the forest. I dash through the undergrowth at full speed, careful to keep my ears and eyes open.

Squirrels dash for cover; mice squeak and hurtle into a safe spot, where they know I won't find them. But my mind is only set on running away, and keeping the rabbit. It's been three days since I last ate, and I'm starting to feel ravenous.

Once I make it to the edge of the woods, I slam my front paws down hard, pushing up dirt. Nearly knocking myself over the edge of a small cliff, I whip back around and look for another route. I can only see a small river and several trees at the bottom of the cliff, but I wouldn't dare jump over it.

Before my eyes catch sight of a trail leading down the cliff, I know its already too late. I feel hot breath on my tail and whip around, facing a mangy grey wolf. His eyes are bloodshot and his yellow teeth gleam in the sunlight.

I dig my claws into the dirt, standing my ground. I flatten my ears and narrow my eyes, warning him to stay away.

I can hear the others before I see them. Four other rogue wolves, all with the same mangy, misplaced fur and hungry gleam in their eyes. My limbs go numb and my mind fights panic.

"What are you doin' all alone, missy?" Ons of them growls, his face inches from mine.

I can't let the rabbit go, so I speak through its fur. "That's none of your concern. Let me pass."