The Rage (Very rough, rough draft) Chap. 2

The only sound I can hear is the casual munching of the caribou herd, and the song of the insects that have yet to leave for the winter. My entire body is tense, waiting for Ice and her partner to single out the weakest caribou, and give the signal. The moonlight dapples the trees, and I claw the ground anxiously. The grass rustles around me and I let out a slow breath, watching my breath form in the air. Then I see the tiniest flash of white as Ice gallops forward and the caribou herd started bawling their heads off and stampeding west. I let out an excited little yip, waiting furiously for Ice to drive our prey away from the herd.

Ice’s partner lets loose a volley of barking, and I spring forward from my hiding spot, along with the rest of the pack. Ice is nipping at an old-looking caribou, and skillfully dodging its kicks. Her partner appears at her side, and dives for a bite to the caribou’s front leg. It whirls and punishes him with a kick to the side of his face. Ice’s partner yowls and scrambles away from the caribou.

 I wait until the caribou struck out at Ice, then dive for its side. My jaws hit their mark, digging into the caribou’s flank. The other wolves take their cue and spring, aiming to get a good, solid bite in. I give my head a rough shake, tearing at our prey’s pelt before it shakes me off and charges, nearly trampling me and another wolf. I yelp as a hoof clips my shoulder, then dart back to my feet and scramble out of the way. I crouch out of the way, waiting until I have a good spot to attack, then lunge, only to receive a blow to the side for my efforts. I roll sideways, away from the deadly hooves of the caribou. I can smell its blood now, and I realize how easy it must be for Rages to hunt, what with their impossible disease-given strength and speed. I dart forward more carefully this time, landing a few bites on the caribou’s shoulder, then leap back as I hear the final command, Ice’s chilling snarl as she launches for its long legs. The caribou rears back, its front legs lashing out at Ice, and I duck forward, locking my jaws around its hind leg. I crunch down with bone-cracking power and the caribou bellows, tumbling onto its side. An excited chorus of barks goes up and I back away, releasing my grip on the caribou. Ice, a low growl rumbling in her throat, closes her jaws around the caribou’s neck. The caribou’s struggles grow weaker, and the pack closes in, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. And the caribou dies.

Ice slackens her grip on the caribou, gives it one final shake. The she rises to her feet, tips her head back, and howls. Long and bold, victorious. The others follow her lead, singing their victory to the stars and the moon, singing their strength to the air and the water, singing their hope to the Rages. I feel resolve well up within me. We will not be defeated. We will stand until the end, for we are the last hope for the wolves. As soon as the howls die down, the wolves circle their prey, nudging eagerly at it. I watch as Ice snaps at them, driving them back. The pack has to be fed first. Glass settles beside me, giving me a grin.

“Too easy.” She barks, flicking her tail. I roll my eyes.

“What did you even do?” I scoff.

“I was the wolf you that nearly got trampled because of you, thank you very much.”

I snort and cuff her over the ears with a paw. Glass growls and dips into a play-bow at the same time Ice gives an annoyed bark and I look over her, organizing the wolves to shred the caribou and carry it back to camp. I swat at Glass once, then pad over to Ice, who immediately sends me to take a hind leg back to camp. A black male has already torn the leg off the caribou and kicks it towards me, starting on the other leg, his powerful jaws cracking the bone like sticks. I pick up the leg in my jaws, my head tilted awkwardly to the side, dragging the leg along beside me. I see two Patrols posted in front and back of the other wolves, ensuring that anything, Rage or normal predator, is kept away from the kill. Glass passes me, stalking towards the prey to get her piece. I set off towards the camp at a lopsided trot, the leg dragging alongside me. Wishing Ice hadn’t chosen someplace this far away from camp, I shift my grip on the leg, wishing there was a more comfortable way to carry it.

Once back at camp, I drop the leg in the middle of camp, working my aching jaw. Half of the caribou is already here. The Pures that aren’t doing anything now are circled expectantly, while the mothers and pups are already eating, along with the older wolves and Alphas. I lick the blood off my jaws, settling down in a corner of camp, watching as the rest of the hunting crew files in, dropping off their pieces and finding their friends and family to talk to. My mother died when I was very young, and I never knew my father. Mom used to say he was brave and kind. I think he was infected with Rage, just like Mom was. Apparently, the Alpha Male had to kill my mother. He’s been a good friend to me all these months, like an uncle, but he’s got his responsibilities as head of the Pure Pack.

Soon Glass takes her spot beside me and yawns, eyeing the meat of the caribou hungrily. Younger wolves, between the ages of one and six, eat last. I sigh and watch the dwindling pile of food. 

“Hey Glass!” I hear someone call, and turn to look with Glass. Night and a brown she-wolf I know is Glass’s friend are waiting for her with part of a caribou leg. Glass looks uncomfortably at me. I nudge her.

“Go on then.” I say and she flashes me a grin.

“Later Katya!” Glass woofs and lopes over to her friends. They greet her and the trio sets off to another corner of camp. I sigh, flick my tail and rest my head on my paws, studying my cross collar.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” A rumbling voice asks and I whip my head up to look at the Alpha Male. His green eyes sparkle with humor, and his thick gray pelt is sleek as ever.

“Has everyone else eaten?” I ask, sitting up, feeling dwarfed by his size.

“Yes.” The Alpha Male chuckles. “Go get something.” He encourages. I nod eagerly and bound over to the remaining pieces and nose through until I find something worth eating. I carry the scrawny front leg back over to my spot.

“That’s all you’re going to eat?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I’ll catch a rabbit tomorrow.” I mumble around a mouthful of dry meat.

“Why don’t you have a second piece?”

I start to protest but he cuts me off. “I give you permission.” He says.

“Okay.” I agree, swallowing another mouthful of meat. The Alpha Male lays down beside me.

“Your final assessment is in three months.” He muses, almost to himself. I nod. He looks curiously at me. “Are you ready?”

I think about the question a while, chewing thoughtfully. Was I ready? I knew I could physically pass it, even if it wouldn’t be easy, but I was wondering if I could emotionally handle murdering a Rage. I would have to think of the Rage as a monster, a threat to my pack, instead of part of my pack. No Pure Warrior was given a fellow Pure Warrior turned Rage on their final assessment, but they were still wolves, still family.

“I think so.” I answer after a moment. The Alpha Male nods.

“I think you’ll be a fine Warrior.” He rumbles. I strip the last bit of meat off and gnaw on the bone for a while, then get up and pad back to the pile. There’s not much left, and I choose to strip the ribs of their last meat. I lie beside the pile and eat, then rise, full and head back to my spot. The Alpha Male is gone, probably back to his den, and I sprawl out comfortably on the ground, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of the forest. The forest is cold, but my thick white fur keeps me plenty warm. With my belly full, warm, and at home, I soon start to drift off to sleep. I scarcely notice when another wolf -probably Glass- curls up beside me.

I awake the next morning feeling refreshed and alive. I push myself into a sitting position and look beside me, expecting to see Glass, but the spot is empty. I swore she was there when I fell asleep. I sniff at the ground. There’s the fresh scent of wolf, and I can tell it’s not Glass, but rather a strange male. I don’t remember the scent at first. And then I recognize it. Dake!

I bolt to my feet, looking eagerly around the camp.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

I grin at the voice, turning around.

“Dake! You’re back!” I exclaim, running to the big gold wolf.

“Of course I’m back.” Dake snorts, then gives me a friendly nudge. “You didn’t think a Rage would kill me, did you, Katya?”

“Well…You’re not the sharpest wolf around…” I start innocently. Dake gives me a playful shove. He’s gotten stronger, I realize. I guess hunting Rages does that for you.

“Don’t forget it’s your big brother you’re talking to!” Dake warns.

“Never.” I say with a huge smile. Dake smirks, looking around the camp.

“Do the Alphas know you’re back yet?” I ask.

“Of course. Though I guess my team missed dinner.”

“We can go hunting!” I suggest earnestly, remembering the months when Dake and I would bound through the forest, yipping and trying uselessly to catch something. When we’d been just puppies, and we’d play in the forest and race to the Towers every day, and splash around in the lake. Everything we’d done before he became a Pure Warrior.

“Sure.” Dake agrees and follows as I lead him to my favorite hunting place, a little patch of land next to the lake. Dake sniffs the air, his tail wagging slightly, head raised.

“It feels good to be home.” He murmurs, almost to himself.

“Here.” I tell him, motioning towards my hunting patch with my tail.

“Looks like we could catch something good.” Dake mutters, crouching low in the brown grass. I crouch beside him, scenting the air for anything good and pricking my ears. A faint scuttling sound reached my ears. I tense, leaning forward. Dake looks at me.

“Wait.” He breathes. I do, my eyes searching for our prey.

“Circle around to that tree. “ Dake orders quietly, flicking an ear towards a pine a ways away. I nod and creep forward, trying to set my paws down as lightly as possible, cursing my pure white and very noticeable pelt. I stop at the tree, flattening against the ground. I can’t see Dake. My eyes scan the entire territory, but there’s no sign of my brother’s golden pelt. I frown, losing interest in the prey. Then Dake explodes out of the grass with a savage bark, his fur bristling. A rabbit streaks straight away from Dake and into my paws. Unfortunately, I’d been too focused on finding Dake that I totally wasn’t ready. The rabbit escapes my paws with ease, and I growl, bolting after it. The rabbit easily outpaces me, flashing its white tail like a taunt. I skid to a stop as it darts into its burrow and growl, sitting and flicking my tail crossly. Dake comes up behind me.

“Bad luck.” He insists with a shrug.

“Sorry.” I mutter.

“We can still get it, you know.”

“How? It’s underground.”

“Exactly.” Dake says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. I look at him.

“Like this, see?” Dake pads over to the burrow and sticks his muzzle in. When he pulls it back out and sees me looking at him like he’s lost it, he explains, “You can smell how many rabbits are there, and feel how big the burrow is. This is only a rabbit hole, not a warren. And as far as I can tell, there’s only one rabbit here, the one we just chased.”

I nod slowly, not sure if I really understand.

“Here, try.” Dake barks. I pad forward, giving an uncertain look at Dake. He motions to the burrow. I crouch and place my sensitive nose before the burrow. I inhale deeply. There’s the fresh smell of rabbit, but it’s not overpowering, like it would be if there were many. So, I guess, like Dake said, there’s probably only one rabbit. There’s no airflow inside the burrow, no exit, so the rabbit practically trapped itself. But I can’t tell how deep the burrow is; though I’m guessing it’s pretty shallow.

“So, there’s no exit, and one rabbit?” I ask, sitting up and looking at Dake. He nods in approval.

“Anything else?” Dake asks. I shake my head. “You’ll learn.” He says confidently.

“So what now?”

“Now you stay here and make sure the rabbit doesn’t get away.” Dake instructs, circles the burrow, pausing occasionally as if to feel for something under his paws, then selects a certain spot and starts to dig. I stand in front of the rabbit hole. It’s not getting away this time. Dake’s paws easily shovel away the dirt until the rabbit shoots out of its burrow rather than getting dug out, and into my waiting jaws. Score!

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The bars are almost broken. He paces in front of them, the blood from his torn jaws staining his muzzle. They’ll notice soon. And then they’ll fix them. And he’ll never get out. The thought sends a bolt of panic through him and he lunges for the bars again, fixing his jaws around one and biting down hard. The already torn metal cuts into his tender mouth, but he shakes his head savagely, ignoring the pain. It will fade, anyway. He has to get out. He can’t stay in here. They’ll kill him, and for what? Nothing! He jerks his head, and the bar splinters between his teeth. He cautiously stretches a bloody paw through the open space.  He knows he won’t fit through that little space. So he’ll have to make it bigger. He turns his fangs on the next bar, ripping into it. He will get out. He’s almost free.