The Hunting
t was a fine night — cold and crisp. The trees were all half-naked fingers pointing at the brilliant full moon and the sky was clear. Each star was a sharp little spark and the moon was fresh-linen white. In this air, scents could waft for miles.
The wolf pack lounged in the foothills, tolerating the play of fluffy pups tumbling over their mothers and uncles. A few feet away, the alpha male stood, alert, wet black nose twitching as he read the smells of the night. His tail swept back and forth. Behind the pack and a bit above, the alpha female lay, stretched out, her one amber eye glowing in the moonlight. Her tail swept the rock clean behind her, and a clumsy gray puppy chased it, growling little puppy growls.
The alpha male barked. It was a soft sound, hardly more than a huff of air, but it brought the pack swiftly up to their feet. The alpha female stood as well, giving herself a good shake. The pup behind her made a leap for her tail, missed, then shook itself off and tumbled his way over to his uncle. The pups were past nursing, but not big enough yet to join the hunt, so they would stay behind with their long, rangy uncle while the pack swept down into the woods to find meat.
First, though, there would be singing. The moon was full and bright, and she must be appeased before blood was spilled in her presence, and so the pack followed the alpha up to the top of the jagged hills, with much circling and sniffing as they found their places by rank. As they shuffled amongst each other, the big male sat, salt and pepper fur rippling as muscles shifted under his magnificent coat. The moonlight gilded his fur silver as he pointed his nose to the sky and released the first long, ululating cry. It was, as always, a love song to the moon. As his cry faded, the other wolves joined in, their ghostly song echoing up into the mountains and down into the woods, and for miles, animals started and shivered, darting glances up to the wolven silhouettes shining against Mother Moon in the sky. They sang of the pack, grown mighty in these last years, and the pups, well-fed and strong. They sang of the woods, which were tall and plentiful with meat. The sang of the moon, her beauty and benevolence shining down on them and leading them to prey. They sang of the death that would soon come, and across the foothills, animals cowered and hid.
As the echoes of the last notes faded across the land, the wolves stood, a mere breath after their alpha, and they went down the foothills and into the woods, the sound of their paws like silent thunder. Into the woods they raced, swift and sure, as though the moon did indeed lead them directly to their prey. They ran like the wind, their fur rippling like water, fifteen long, strong predators, gray sleek coats tinted silver in the light, running through shadows and moonbeams, appearing and disappearing until one might think them ghosts to see them. They were as silent as oiled smoke, but their intent ran before them like a cloud of menace, and ahead a large buck broke from cover in fear. The hunt was on, and now they howled and barked as they ran.
The buck thundered through the woods, eyes rolling as it leaped and darted. The wolves gained, howling the buck’s imminent death out to Mother Moon. The buck sailed over a small creek and the wolves pounded through, raising water like a wave, raining down behind them. They closed and the alpha female leaped, hitting the buck’s back, spinning it down sideways. Before he could regain his feet, the pack was on him, and a heartbeat later, blood poured across the earth. Joyful snarls and howls sang the buck’s death, and in the woods the other animals breathed sighs of relief that this night, death was not theirs.
The wolves feasted and sang, and way up in the foothills the puppies yipped excitedly under the watchful eye of their uncle. The smell of blood wafted through the night, and the old wolf watched his nieces and nephews, tongue lolling.
Scent was not the only thing that would travel for miles on a night like this, though. As the rest of the pack ate, the alpha female turned away, ears pricked forward. Across the distance, way away out of the woods, a sound traveled, and she stepped away to better hear it. Drifting through the woods, twisting itself in and out of the wolf song, as though to accompany it, came the piping sound of a calliope. Her golden eye stared thoughtfully into the distance as she listened to the calliope, a high, dancing sound stretched thin by miles, and after a time, she raised her voice to join it. To answer it.
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