one leg.
The next thing Runt knew he was flying through the air, flying and landing, too hard. He lifted his head, struggling to pull air into his lungs again, and from that position, flat on the ground, he observed the rest of the action. The bull moose brushed one shoulder against a slender aspen, strong and straight. Silver crashed to the ground, twisting as she fell. Then the great creature passed close to a tree on the other side. Hunter's hold was jerked
free, and she, too, landed unceremoniously on the ground.
Now only Helper had a hold, swinging from the beast's nose. And as the moose continued to stagger forward, he swung his huge head, hurling the yearling wolf this way and that. Helper might have been a leafy branch buffeted by the wind. With the next sweep of the bull's enormous head, the yearling's body smacked into the trunk of an oak tree. Hard. Then the moose swung his head back and drove the young wolf into an elm on the other side.
Helper dropped to the ground like a rock.
In the sudden silence that followed, the bull moose disappeared into the forest. Only Bider still pursued him.
Silver and Hunter rose from where they had fallen. Silver limped, but she led the way toward the place where Helper lay. Runt rose, too, and the pups and Hunter followed close on their mother's heels. King joined them all.
Silver sniffed Helper's face, his eyes, his ears. Then the silver wolf whimpered and stepped back. The others approached, sniffed,
whimpered, one after the other. Helper did not stir. Only Runt stayed back.
King licked his son's face, just once, then turned away. "Come," he said to his family. It was an entirely different call than the one with which they had begun the hunt.
Even Silver hesitated, looking down at her fallen son, but then she whined, sniffed Helper again, and followed her mate.
Runt stood alone beside Helper's still form, frozen into place. How could his family leave...?
"Come along," Hunter commanded, moving the pups forward with gentle bumps of her muzzle. "Come along."
"But ..." Runt dropped stubbornly to the ground, glancing over his shoulder at his parents, who were now some distance away, walking with their heads down. His mother's limp looked bad. "We can't leave Helper here. He needs us!"
"Helper will never need us again," Hunter replied softly. "Now come." And she and the other pups moved off after their parents.
But Runt did not come. He laid his chin across Helper's tan chest and watched his
family go. He didn't understand. If there was truly nothing they could do for his brother, then why didn't his father follow Bider and continue the hunt? Bider had been right about one thing. They were hungry. They were all hungry.
Long after the rest of his family was gone, Runt lay next to his brother's still body. The light sifting through the trees grew dim, and the bright gold of Helper's steadfastly open eye grew even dimmer, but yet Runt did not move. Flies began to settle on the golden eye, on the dark lips. They crawled into Helper's ears. A turkey vulture had come to perch on a branch overhead, then another. How quickly news traveled in the forest.
But Runt took little notice of any of it until Raven dropped out of a tree, landing near him.
Runt raised his head slowly. "Not you, too," he said. "Are you waiting for me to leave so you can feast?"
"Of course not." Raven ruffled his feathers the way he always did when he was offended. "I have some loyalty, you know."
Runt snapped at one of the endless flies
buzzing around his head, then settled his chin once more across his brother's still body. The warmth of Helper's life had slipped away.
"Did Bider bring down the moose?" Runt asked.
"Bider is still running," Raven replied. "Trying to bring down that old bull alone, even injured as he is now, is going to keep him running for a long time."
Alone
. The pack should be with him. Why had his father given up so easily? Was it true that he was afraid? Runt wanted to ask
The next thing Runt knew he was flying through the air, flying and landing, too hard. He lifted his head, struggling to pull air into his lungs again, and from that position, flat on the ground, he observed the rest of the action. The bull moose brushed one shoulder against a slender aspen, strong and straight. Silver crashed to the ground, twisting as she fell. Then the great creature passed close to a tree on the other side. Hunter's hold was jerked
free, and she, too, landed unceremoniously on the ground.
Now only Helper had a hold, swinging from the beast's nose. And as the moose continued to stagger forward, he swung his huge head, hurling the yearling wolf this way and that. Helper might have been a leafy branch buffeted by the wind. With the next sweep of the bull's enormous head, the yearling's body smacked into the trunk of an oak tree. Hard. Then the moose swung his head back and drove the young wolf into an elm on the other side.
Helper dropped to the ground like a rock.
In the sudden silence that followed, the bull moose disappeared into the forest. Only Bider still pursued him.
Silver and Hunter rose from where they had fallen. Silver limped, but she led the way toward the place where Helper lay. Runt rose, too, and the pups and Hunter followed close on their mother's heels. King joined them all.
Silver sniffed Helper's face, his eyes, his ears. Then the silver wolf whimpered and stepped back. The others approached, sniffed,
whimpered, one after the other. Helper did not stir. Only Runt stayed back.
King licked his son's face, just once, then turned away. "Come," he said to his family. It was an entirely different call than the one with which they had begun the hunt.
Even Silver hesitated, looking down at her fallen son, but then she whined, sniffed Helper again, and followed her mate.
Runt stood alone beside Helper's still form, frozen into place. How could his family leave...?
"Come along," Hunter commanded, moving the pups forward with gentle bumps of her muzzle. "Come along."
"But ..." Runt dropped stubbornly to the ground, glancing over his shoulder at his parents, who were now some distance away, walking with their heads down. His mother's limp looked bad. "We can't leave Helper here. He needs us!"
"Helper will never need us again," Hunter replied softly. "Now come." And she and the other pups moved off after their parents.
But Runt did not come. He laid his chin across Helper's tan chest and watched his
family go. He didn't understand. If there was truly nothing they could do for his brother, then why didn't his father follow Bider and continue the hunt? Bider had been right about one thing. They were hungry. They were all hungry.
Long after the rest of his family was gone, Runt lay next to his brother's still body. The light sifting through the trees grew dim, and the bright gold of Helper's steadfastly open eye grew even dimmer, but yet Runt did not move. Flies began to settle on the golden eye, on the dark lips. They crawled into Helper's ears. A turkey vulture had come to perch on a branch overhead, then another. How quickly news traveled in the forest.
But Runt took little notice of any of it until Raven dropped out of a tree, landing near him.
Runt raised his head slowly. "Not you, too," he said. "Are you waiting for me to leave so you can feast?"
"Of course not." Raven ruffled his feathers the way he always did when he was offended. "I have some loyalty, you know."
Runt snapped at one of the endless flies
buzzing around his head, then settled his chin once more across his brother's still body. The warmth of Helper's life had slipped away.
"Did Bider bring down the moose?" Runt asked.
"Bider is still running," Raven replied. "Trying to bring down that old bull alone, even injured as he is now, is going to keep him running for a long time."
Alone
. The pack should be with him. Why had his father given up so easily? Was it true that he was afraid? Runt wanted to ask
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