Runt [ManxMan]

Chapter Two

So same warning as last time, wolves being wolves and making a mess (though slightly less messy this time)

Chase crept through the dense underbrush, silent as his pack brothers around him. They were closing in on a herd of deer, excitement thrumming in the air. It had been weeks since they had made a big kill and it had driven them further from their pack lands than Chase had been in years, chasing after this herd that could feed the pack for weeks.

Unlike the rest of the group, Chase felt more nervous than excited. He'd never been put in charge of a hunt as important as this one. He was glad Dax had faith in his hunting abilities, but the pressure to pull this off was making it hard for him to enjoy what he loved to do.

If they failed to bring home enough game to feed the pack, they could go down to the human town and buy meat, so it wasn't like this was a matter of life and death. Still, the pack took pride in being self-sufficient, and they all preferred fresh meat anyway. More importantly, Chase didn't want to see the disappointed look on Dax's face when they came home empty handed again.

The wind shifted, and he shifted with it to stay downwind of the herd. The pack went with him, spreading out through the trees to circle around the herd and close it in, trapped and ready for slaughter.

Chase could see them through the underbrush now, grazing peacefully in a small meadow. He almost hated to disturb them, but he was no stranger to hunting, and pushed his concerns aside. Besides, they wouldn't take that much, three of the larger bucks would be more than enough to feed the pack for a week or more, and still leave the herd strong enough to recover.

The pack waited for his signal. He had led them here and this was his moment, his turn to be the leader. As a beta-born it should have come naturally to him, but he'd left his birthright behind a long time ago, and it felt strange to have so many eyes on him, so many wolves waiting for his signal, his lead.

But he'd never had any interest in being a beta. Even if he hadn't been small for a supposedly dominant wolf, his growth stunted from years of malnutrition when he was young, he had no interest in training and fighting. All he'd ever wanted was to be a hunter, to provide food so no one would have to go hungry as he had for so long. This was his moment to do it, and it was all he'd ever dreamed of.

But something was off. There was a scent in the air, something familiar, distracting him from the herd. It was so faint he couldn't recognize it, but he knew it from somewhere. What was it? It smelled like... maybe another wolf? That wasn't surprising, they were in no man's land, any pack or lone wolf could wander this land freely as he had when he was young, before the pack took him in.

There was something nagging about this particular scent though, something that kept slipping away just as he tried to catch it. He was sure if he could just get a good whiff of it, he would be able to figure it out.

A twig snapped, the sound as loud as a gunshot in the silent woods, and he froze, his head jerking toward the sound. One of the younger members of the group, a wolf not yet out of his teenage years, stared back with wide eyes, his paw still pressed into the broken branch.

The herd's heads had also jerked up at the sound, and they stared into the trees in search of danger, but the pack waited with bated breath, still hidden in the trees and downwind from the deer. After a too-long pause, the herd relaxed and went back to grazing, the sound forgotten, and the pack let out a breath as one.

That was close, and Chase berated himself for allowing it to happen. They would have already made their move if he hadn't been distracted by the strangely familiar scent. He would have to scold the young wolf later for his impatience, but it was as much Chase's fault as it was the kid's.