Wolves: The Beginning

Prologue

The White Plains, the Sacred Grounds, many names were given to these ancient lands. Protected by a native tribe, these tribesmen respected the peace and kept it so. But they were not living alone.

A chilly breeze swept across the winter night as the wind carries the clouds west, allowing the Moon to escape. Her brilliant light is shed upon the pure white surface where it was once a field of grass, now covered in snow.

Treading through the snow were two gray wolves. The two panted silently, but what followed them chased them with a BANG.

“After 'em,” one of the hunters shouted.

The two wolves struggled as they tried to run away, leaping through the one feet thick snow. But suddenly, another gunshot was heard and one of the wolves collapsed. Blood oozes out of the wound on its right hind leg. The other wolf stopped and ran back for its pack member but stopped as the wounded wolf gave it a glance with its amber orbs. The other wolf understood and reluctantly ran away, leaving its comrade to its fate.

As the lucky wolf reached the first lines of trees, its fallen comrade gave one last howl before being cut off with a hole through its head. The survivor jumped by the sound, stopped and looked back.

It hid within some shrubs and watched as the humans dragged its dead brethren away, leaving a trail of red in the pure white snow. As the figures disappear over the dark horizon, a tear seems to form and slide down its cheek. Its expression is clear, filled with sorrow and despair.

He walked deeper into the forest and stopped. An open grove is in front of the wolf, sitting in the middle is a flat boulder, its top flat surface reflects the moonlight from above. A perfect place to mourn its loss. The wolf perched itself on the boulder and gave out a mournful howl, it echoed through the forest and beyond. As it continued to mourn, the moon retreats back behind the clouds.

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Author's Words:
This story will continue on, if you like it, stay tuned!

-Gabriel K