Book Chapters
The Wild inside me is excited by all of this, her dreams of the wild coming true. Except she isn’t as wild as she thinks she is.
Shifting, the Wild slowly makes her way toward the pack, one brave step at a time.
She gives them her signs of peaceful friendship, tail wagging, tongue hanging out slightly. She’s cautious but hopeful
Grey fur bodies tum toward her as they litt their noses to take in the scent. Their muzzles are stained in blood that my wolf wants to
taste.
They meet her signs of peace with their language of war. Large canines exposed with the curl of lip, noses scrunched tight. Ears flattened, not in submission Shoulder muscles twitching excitedly to jump. Tails straight out. My Wild is watching all this posturing as she starts to give her own snarl back to them. If they want war, she can do exactly what they are doing. Stiff leg stance, her snarl of menace is just as fierce. This won’t be an easy fight, she’s telling them as she flashes her war of sharp white teeth.
She’s taking all of them into her brain, trying to memorize who they are as she lifts a nose to smell scents in the air.
A large male approaches, more ferocious than the others. A female on his right, her head angling underneath his neck every so often Paws turning up the snow, grey for stained in blood. They both have eaten their fill with the way their stomachs are bloated out.
is the
This is the most hostile environment we have ever been in.
She crouches down instead of holding her form high. The alpha has taught her that lesson of hierarchy. Do not challenge a wolf you
can’t beat.
The closer the pair gets, the more she starts to panic slightly. They smell wild, full of the savage nature they come from. I notice a few scents of others like me, but they pay the wolf no mind, concentrating on eating the fresh kill.
The leading pair approach cautiously, eyes regarding a new female that wants to enter the pack. The male putting his nose up against the fur, running it down the side until it’s pressed firinly underneath the Wild’s tail, taking her scent into his nose.
The female leader does the same thing, having a good sniff of the female parts. Both of them give another snarl but don’t abuse us in
any way.
The Wild takes it as a cue that it’s okay to approach the kill sight. All heads turn her way in a wall of snarl and fang, which has her backing up, away from the threat. She’s hungry and wants what they have. The only problem is they are also hungry, and they earned that right to eat.
The first wolf rushes us, biting into our shoulder once we get too close for their liking. They will not share, and their teeth hurt when they bite.
It’s a long night of watching them eat pound after pound of flesh. Once all members of the pack have eaten, the Wild takes her chance, tearing into what remains, nothing but bone and a few pieces of meat clinging to the edges.
It’s not enough to satisfy the hunger.
Another day turns to three and nothing has been eaten. The pads of the Wild’s feet are bruised and bleeding with the way the snow freezes to it, cutting into the skin. The fur looks rough and mangled.
The Wild is welcomed in the pack but only on the edge, the periphery.
She spends the days watching the juveniles practice pouncing on the mice in the deep snow. The Wild puts her muzzle on the trail like they do, sniffing out their hiding places–finally figuring it out and relishing in the crunch of our first real kill.
It doesn’t take long for the mouse population to suffer underneath her jaws. These little bites have sustained her throughout the long
Werks
The pack refuses to let her hunt the big game with them, only allowing her to watch on the sidelines.
Days and nights slowly go by as she learns from these wolves how to be a wolf. It’s not all teeth and claws, it’s licking, rubbing up against each other, it’s family looking out for one another. It’s companionship that makes her heart happy and mine.
Listening to their language, it’s beautiful songs they sing at night to the moon. She even sings and no one is there to laugh at her. She is free to be who she is a wild wolf.
Blizzards rollin, ice storms entombing the trees in clear sheets of crystal.
