The Rage (Very rough, rough draft) Chap. 1

The Pures live in the Southern Forest, the last clean area on earth. They hunt down and kill the Rages. They risk their lives every time they go hunting for the mad wolves. There are three types of Pures. Pure Guards, Pure Patrols, and Pure Warriors. I am a Pure in training to be a Warrior. To hunt down and slay the Rages; this is my job.  

“Hey Katya!” a voice calls from across the Pure Camp. I turn to see a slender silver female trotting hurriedly across the clearing.

“Yeah Glass?” I ask my best friend curiously. Glass plops down in front of me.

“Had to run all the way here from the East Towers.” She pants, tipping her amber eyes up to look at me for pity.

“Poor puppy.” I sigh woefully, rolling my eyes, and then prod her in the side with a paw. “See anything?”

“Nah.” Glass mutters, sitting up and yawning. “I guess the Outer Patrols are keeping everything out of the main territory.”

“Or maybe the disease has stopped?”

“In your dreams!” Glass snorts, and looks around the camp. Then she looks back at me, her eyes sad and somber. “I wish the disease would stop. I wish the Healers could find a cure.”

“They’re trying.” I point out, trying to sound hopeful.

“Do you think they’ll ever find a cure? They can’t take live subjects, and I don’t know what good Rage blood does after the carrier dies.” Glass sighs.

“Of course they’ll find a cure.” I say optimistically. They have to. I think to myself. Glass shrugs, then heaves herself to her paws, casting a knowing look towards the North.

“Shall we?” she asks.

“The Ruins?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s go.”

We start for the camp entrance, when a white wolf blocks our path.

“Where are you two going?” she questions.

“Oh, hi, Ice. Just to the, um, West Towers.” Glass says thoughtfully.

“You’re not Guards, are you?” Ice questions. We might be a pack, but we’re more like an army. We know our jobs, and who we work with, but nothing else really concerns us. So, of course Ice wouldn’t know if we were Guards or not.

“No.” we both sigh at the same time.

“Do you have business there?”

“No.” we repeat.

“Then why do you need to go?”

“We were just going to look around.” I mutter. Ice looks at us quietly a moment, then steps aside.

“Go on then. But only if you’re on the hunting crew tonight.” Ice says. Of course. Ice, I now recall, is the head hunter, in charge of organizing hunts to keep the pack fed. Glass and I look at each other, debating whether it’s worth it. Hunting isn’t the most fun thing, when you could be training to kill Rages. And I was on the hunting crew a week ago, anyway. Ah well.

“Okay.” Glass and I agree together. Ice nods and heads for the Alphas’ den.

We both take off, heading deeper into the Pure Forest, our paws crackling the leaves on the ground, our breath clouding in the air. I stretch my stride further, trying to outpace Glass. Of course we’re not actually going to the West Towers. I hear Glass huff beside me and pick up her speed, matching me stride for stride. I push faster. We race towards the northern edge of the forest and slow once we reach it.

“I win.” I say breathlessly, peering out at the Ruins that hover just outside of the Outer Patrol from the safety of the trees, like a pup from behind its mother. The Ruins used to be a human city. A big one, too. But the humans were infected too, except the disease worked differently on them. It killed them off by the millions, until there were none left. Just like that.

The Ruins are a favorite place for the Rages, since none of the Pures dare to venture there. Glass and I did once, though (and boy had it taken a lot of work to get past the Outer Patrol), and never wanted to again.

Glass flicks her tail. “Nope. I won.” She says and pads out of the shelter of the trees. I follow cautiously. The Ruins are still miles off, but being out in the open, away from the protection of the forest, makes you feel like a Rage could attack at any moment. I can tell Glass feels the same from the way her fur bristles up a little along her shoulders. I turn my gaze to the East, seeing the familiar sight of the towers, lined up in a half circle around the Pure Forest.

Three on the East, curving around to four on the South, and three more on the West. In the North there are the Outer Patrols. I’ve never seen those, but I’ve always wanted to go some day. They’re the ones that defend the entire Pure Forest from most of the Rages. The Towers defend everything else, and the Pure Warriors, which I’ll be soon, along with Glass, travel out past the Outer Patrols and into the world to hunt down and kill as many Rages as possible. Being a Pure Warrior is a big responsibility. I’ve been in training since I was four months old. But I still haven’t gone past the Outer Patrols. In three months, though, I will, because then I’ll be two years old. My first trip as a full Pure Warrior.

I absently reach up with a paw and touch the silver cross that hangs on a thin chain around my neck. When I’m a full Pure Warrior, the cross will be white. I can’t wait.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts I barely notice Glass, who’s now slinking back into the forest and away from the Ruins, talking to me.

“…and then he was like, totally mad after that. I thought he’d been infected with Rage, there for a minute!” Glass is exclaiming.

“Oh…yeah.” I say, wondering what she meant. Glass sniffs and glares at me.

“What?”

“You have no idea what I just said.”

“Er…no.”

Glass growls and lowers herself into a hunting crouch.

“Oh, come on Glass. Only puppies-“I start to complain, but then Glass tackles me. I yelp and we both go tumbling down the hill at the edge of the forest. Glass pins me and nips my foreleg, then springs away. I bark and lunge at her. She laughs and whirls, racing towards the West Towers. I follow after her, then snap out a forepaw to trip her when I’m close enough. My paw snags her hind leg and she yips, rolling headfirst in the dirt. I tower over her, growling playfully.

“I win. Again. Is it hard being a loser?”

“As if I know!” Glass snorts and stands, giving one last nip at me and turning her gaze to the West Towers.

“Well, we’re already half way there, and we did say that’s where we were going, and we’ve got nothing else to do at camp. I got the day off. Same with you, I guess.” Glass points out.

“Then what’re we waiting for?” I demand and set off at a lope for the West Towers. Glass follows close behind. The West Towers are roughly 400 meters tall each, made of old human metal scraps and wood. They aren’t the most elegant towers, but they do the job. There are four Pure Guards posted at the very top of the tower to scout for Rages, or Rage Packs (which are rare, considering the Rages turn on each other within a week of meeting, but are definitely to be feared) and warn the Pure Patrols, a group of seven wolves trained to fend off Rages together, to be ready for a kill.

The Pure Patrols and Guards are only to keep the camp safe, so that the mothers can care for their pups, who will grow up to be future Pures, who will then take care of the other Pures and their pups. It’s a constant cycle to defend the last hope for the non-diseased. The Pure Warriors, however, are the ones who leave the safety of the Pure Forest to hunt down the Rages and slaughter as many as possible before their deaths or infections. They’re the ones who try to kill the disease. And I’m proud to be one of them.

Glass and I give The Pure Guards a warning howl so they know not to sick their Patrol on us. The Guards howl in reply, sending the message to their Patrol.

Glass and I nod to the two wolves sitting in the Tower Doorway, part of the Patrol. They eye us warily, and one rises to his paws, circling us, then flicks an ear in approval. We dart inside.

The bottom floor of the tower is large, dark, and drafty. Glass hurries along beside me, our pawsteps echoing eerily in the wide room. Glass growls in annoyance as her paw splashes in a puddle of water. We reach the doorway on the opposite side of the room and Glass rears up, nudging at the board that secures the stone door shut and it clatters noisily to the floor. I think I hear a sigh from the two Patrol wolves in the doorway. I shoulder the door open and Glass trots eagerly in. The Patrol would have to re-secure the board. A set of carefully carven stairs loom ahead of us. Halfway up, two more wolves are curled up on the stone steps. They merely flick their ears to acknowledge our presence. We creep past and up the rest of the curving stairs, my paws tingling with apprehension at being in this dark place.

Finally we arrive at the top room. It can only be opened from the inside. I bark once, twice. Hear muted grumbling from inside the room, the board being slid out of the way. The door creaks open. Three Patrol wolves stand in our way.

“Your business?” one growls, his ears flicked up aggressively.  

“Ace, lay off. It’s not like they’re Rages.” another barks at him, nudging the other two out of the way. I recognize Glass’s brother, Night.

“Hey guys.” Night greets us, standing to the side to allow us in. “Any news?”

“The East Towers haven’t seen a Rage in three days.” Glass tells him, stepping into the small, light room. So much brighter then the bottom floor.

“Good for them. We haven’t had such luck.” Night laughs. I wander over to the outside ring that surrounds the top of the tower, leaving Glass to talk to the Patrols. There’s a short wall to keep the Guards from falling off, but you can see everything from up here.

“Hey.” One of the Guards greets me, without looking away from her post.

“Hi.” I walk over beside the Guard, who’s crouched on her haunches, her front paws resting on the wall, gazing out over the land. Guards usually come from the same family, with genetically sharp vision, to see Rages easily from a distance. I rear up beside the Guard, tucking my tail around my hind paws, leaning out a little to see farther.

“Who’re you?” The Guard asks, still not looking at me.

“Katya. And you’re…” I look at the she-wolf. “Met, right?”

The Guard nods. There’s really not much conversing with one of them. So I just shut my jaws and enjoy the cold, high breeze running through my white fur, the view of the entire forest; the river that cuts right through the heart of the Pure Forest, the nine other Towers that surround my home, and the rolling plains towards the north. I squint, attempting to see the Outer Patrols. I can’t from here.

“Your final assessment is in three months, right?” The Guard asks, surprising me. She looks away from her post just a second, to glance at me. Then her curious blue eyes whip back around to scan her section.

“Yeah.” I say quietly.

“Have you been to the Outer Patrols yet?” Oh, a chatty Guard.

“Yep. Have you ever been? “

“Once, yes.” We’re silent a while after that, and I can hear Glass still chatting away with the Patrols.

“Oh, Katya!” Met exclaims suddenly, rising up on her hind paws, front paws still braced on the top of the wall. Light bulb moment. “I recognize that name now! You’re one of the pups who went out to the Ruins, right?”

“Heh. Yeah.” I say sheepishly. I can tell Met is trying hard not to look away from her post.

“What was it like?”

“There were a lot of Rages.” I tell her, looking at the ground, fur bristling in embarrassment. No pup was stupid enough to go to the Ruins.

Finally Met looks at me. “Did you see anyone from the pack?” she asks softly. I shake my head. Met thinks a moment, then nods.

“Okay.” She mutters, looking back out at the land. I push away from the wall and shake myself off.

“Later.” I say and trot back inside the main room, forcing my fur to lie flat. Glass is arguing with her brother over something.

“Hey Glass! We better get going or we’ll be late for the hunt.” I call, around pushing the board on the door up and shoving it open.

“Oh? Oh, yeah.” Glass sighs and flicks her tail goodbye to the Patrols, then springs down the stairs. We both loped back towards the camp, and Glass was talking beside me, but my mind was elsewhere, in the Ruins, long ago.

                                                            N

He remembered what it was like outside. Outside in the warm yellow sun, with the breeze ruffling his fur, and the clear blue sky arching endlessly overhead. Now, though, there was no sun, no breeze, and no blue sky. There was only the dark, dank room, and the still, heavy air and the hard metal roof over his head. He couldn’t take it in here. They thought he was soulless, a brute with no feelings. They were wrong. His paws were bloody from scrambling at the metal floor beneath them, and his once thick fur was scraggly, his sides gaunt, and eyes haunted. Why were they doing this? He couldn’t understand.

If he was soulless…what were they?