Day 10

A while back I had an idea for a story about werewolves which were only men under the light of the full moon, and wolves for the rest of the month. Maybe a bit silly, but I thought I'd mess around with the idea a bit. The first few paragraphs were written previously, but I edited them today and the rest is new. (I'm not stretching the guidelines, I swear!)

***

A lone wolf loped through the trees, gracefully maneuvering the rough terrain in just the light of the stars. His pace was loose and unhurried—with a full belly there was no need for hunting, not now. No, tonight was for exploring.

His gait slowed as he reached the edge of the forest and the trees began to thin; he came to a stop, sitting on his haunches alertly. His ears twitched to catch the faint sounds of cars on the new highway that drifted up from the valley below. Lifting his nose, he sensed the smog mingling with the fragrance of the pine needles crushed beneath his paws, and he bared his teeth to growl softly. The humans were moving farther up the mountain, farther into the Pack’s territory. There had always been hunters, but hunters could be tricked, outrun and outsmarted. But the developers didn’t hunt; they encroached. With their loud machinery that belched smoke into the air, they literally paved the way for the hoards of humans that followed. There were too many to fight, and the patches of forest they could retreat to were dwindling.

The wolf let out a huff of air and turned away from the highway. He began to run, perpendicular to the slope, his paws moving faster and faster. The ground moved quickly under him, and soon he came to the city. From the bluff he looked down on the starks lights of the skyscrapers and the glowing suburbs; the stars faded into a gray night sky. The sounds of wheels on tarmac were louder here, and a siren wailed in the distance. Compared the gentle quiet of the forest, it was deafening. Or perhaps it just seemed that way.

He didn't linger and melted back into the forest, leaving the humans and their noise and lights and smells. The Pack would soon wonder where he was, and Blackfoot would have his hide if he suspected he'd been so close. He could feel the moon begin to rise, hidden by the mountain; tomorrow it would be full. Maybe that was why he was so preoccupied, so lost in his thoughts that he missed the tracks on the ground and the unnatural patten of the leaves where they'd been disturbed.

The trap snapped around his foreleg. Hot pain shot up into his shoulder and he stifled a yelp. He could feel blood welling around the metal jaws. His instinct was to bite at the metal, to pull and fight and struggle, but he repressed it. Instead he looked for the anchor that chained the trap in place. He pawed at the ground around it, nudging the metal spike with his nose. Slowly it came loose, and after what seemed like an age it was free from the dirt.

His breath was coming in heavy pants now, and he licked carefully around the throbbing wound. He had to get away before the hunter returned in the morning. But with the trap still clamped around his leg, how not to leave a trail? He couldn't lead the hunter back to the Pack even if he could make it that far, and he didn't think he could.

***

[Edit: Continued on Day 12.]