that they were able to keep up.
The pack moved silently, crossing the stream and angling off in the direction Raven had shown them, their noses testing the air.
King was the first to pick up the scent. He stopped abruptly. "There," he told the others. "Just there. Close!"
Sniffer got it next. "There!" she echoed in a high, excited voice.
And then the rest, including Runt, could smell it, too.
They circled around King, touching his nose, wagging their tails, savoring the rich,
good smell of moose.
There,
the breeze told them.
Just there!
"Come!" King said again, and they moved out in the same unerring line.
After a short distance, Bang called out, "At the edge of the woods, in the long grass. Lying down."
The message passed down the line. "At the edge of the woods. In the long grass. Lying down."
"If he refuses to run," King commanded, "drop back. The ones who hold their ground are young and strong. We don't want a fight."
Again King's words passed back along the line, this time accompanied by Bider's muttering.
"We're hungry," Bider complained. "Don't tell us to give up before we've even begun."
Runt heard it all, his father's words and Bider's complaints. He didn't know which one he should listen to. He, too, was hungry. He knew that.
The wolves ran full out until the scent they pursued was overwhelming. Then, suddenly, King slowed and the pack slowed behind him. They crouched lower, moving
with more deliberate steps, their heads thrust forward.
Moose! Moose!
The scent sang in Runt's brain as it sang for every other wolf in the pack.
"There!" King said, and that word passed along the line, too.
"There ... there ... there ... moose is there."
And then an enormous creature came crashing to his feet, rising out of the long grass where he had been lying. It was a bull moose, full grown, enormous. Would he stand? Would he fight? Would they return home with their bellies still empty and aching?
For a long moment the moose remained still, peering at the approaching pack with small, nearsighted eyes, and the wolves fanned out, forming a half circle, waiting their chance.
I know,
the moose's eyes said.
I know you have come to kill me. But I won't go without a fight
.
Runt was stunned at the size of the beast. He hadn't realized anything could be so large.
And glancing at his littermates, he was certain they were as overwhelmed as he with the fellow's size, with his smell, with being part of the hunt for the first time. Sniffer trembled, even as she savored the rich scent of the beast before them. Runner and Leader danced forward, then back again, forward and back.
Even King hesitated, sizing up the beast.
Bider stepped out ahead of the rest, moving closer to their quarry. "Come on," he prodded. "Don't lose this one."
And then their chance came. The moose's courage failed, and he turned and lumbered away. The pack dashed after.
"It's an old one," Silver said, passing the word to the pups. "We have a chance."
And watching the moose run, Runt could see what his mother meant. The huge animal carried himself with a towering dignity, but his gait was stiff. He seemed to be a bit lame on the left side, too. And though he picked up speed quickly, the wolves were easily able to match him.
King and Bider jumped at the moose's rump, slashing, drawing blood in streams. Hunter and Silver ran past them. They leapt
and clung to the beast's shoulders, one on each side. Helper put on a burst of speed and got in front of the great animal's head. Then he turned back. With a lunge, he leapt to take hold of the beast's leathery nose, grabbing on, swinging free with all four feet off the ground.
The moose bellowed but didn't slow his pace.
Already Runt could taste the fresh meat. He longed to take hold, too ... anywhere. And though his heart was hammering in his chest, he pushed and pushed until he had moved past the rest of the pups and was right on the great beast's heels. Then he plunged forward, grabbing for the back of
The pack moved silently, crossing the stream and angling off in the direction Raven had shown them, their noses testing the air.
King was the first to pick up the scent. He stopped abruptly. "There," he told the others. "Just there. Close!"
Sniffer got it next. "There!" she echoed in a high, excited voice.
And then the rest, including Runt, could smell it, too.
They circled around King, touching his nose, wagging their tails, savoring the rich,
good smell of moose.
There,
the breeze told them.
Just there!
"Come!" King said again, and they moved out in the same unerring line.
After a short distance, Bang called out, "At the edge of the woods, in the long grass. Lying down."
The message passed down the line. "At the edge of the woods. In the long grass. Lying down."
"If he refuses to run," King commanded, "drop back. The ones who hold their ground are young and strong. We don't want a fight."
Again King's words passed back along the line, this time accompanied by Bider's muttering.
"We're hungry," Bider complained. "Don't tell us to give up before we've even begun."
Runt heard it all, his father's words and Bider's complaints. He didn't know which one he should listen to. He, too, was hungry. He knew that.
The wolves ran full out until the scent they pursued was overwhelming. Then, suddenly, King slowed and the pack slowed behind him. They crouched lower, moving
with more deliberate steps, their heads thrust forward.
Moose! Moose!
The scent sang in Runt's brain as it sang for every other wolf in the pack.
"There!" King said, and that word passed along the line, too.
"There ... there ... there ... moose is there."
And then an enormous creature came crashing to his feet, rising out of the long grass where he had been lying. It was a bull moose, full grown, enormous. Would he stand? Would he fight? Would they return home with their bellies still empty and aching?
For a long moment the moose remained still, peering at the approaching pack with small, nearsighted eyes, and the wolves fanned out, forming a half circle, waiting their chance.
I know,
the moose's eyes said.
I know you have come to kill me. But I won't go without a fight
.
Runt was stunned at the size of the beast. He hadn't realized anything could be so large.
And glancing at his littermates, he was certain they were as overwhelmed as he with the fellow's size, with his smell, with being part of the hunt for the first time. Sniffer trembled, even as she savored the rich scent of the beast before them. Runner and Leader danced forward, then back again, forward and back.
Even King hesitated, sizing up the beast.
Bider stepped out ahead of the rest, moving closer to their quarry. "Come on," he prodded. "Don't lose this one."
And then their chance came. The moose's courage failed, and he turned and lumbered away. The pack dashed after.
"It's an old one," Silver said, passing the word to the pups. "We have a chance."
And watching the moose run, Runt could see what his mother meant. The huge animal carried himself with a towering dignity, but his gait was stiff. He seemed to be a bit lame on the left side, too. And though he picked up speed quickly, the wolves were easily able to match him.
King and Bider jumped at the moose's rump, slashing, drawing blood in streams. Hunter and Silver ran past them. They leapt
and clung to the beast's shoulders, one on each side. Helper put on a burst of speed and got in front of the great animal's head. Then he turned back. With a lunge, he leapt to take hold of the beast's leathery nose, grabbing on, swinging free with all four feet off the ground.
The moose bellowed but didn't slow his pace.
Already Runt could taste the fresh meat. He longed to take hold, too ... anywhere. And though his heart was hammering in his chest, he pushed and pushed until he had moved past the rest of the pups and was right on the great beast's heels. Then he plunged forward, grabbing for the back of
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