Just a trail. Just one sign, a pawprint, a tuft of pale fur, the scent he’d been seeking for almost an entire month now. He would have given his tail for any of them. Obsessive in his mission, Seeker traveled the edge of the north forest, swung back to the glen, then struck back out into the open hillsides again. He didn’t know how many times this had been since loosing the trail.
Not for a second did he entertain the thought of setting paw back into the glen. He wasn’t going home with nothing.
Seeker wasn’t really aware of the passage of time, though some sixth sense warned him winter had arrived. The snow the previous week hadn’t assisted his tracking. He avoided other wolves now, after two previous negative encounters, simply swerving in the opposite direction whenever the telltale scent of a stranger came his way. Letting his nose lead him. He tasted nothing of what he ate, impatiently yanking fur or feathers out of the way in order to bolt his meal and resume his never-ending search. Each morning and evening he let a lonely howl ring out across the grasslands.
He crested a bare hill, panting slightly as he headed for the very top of the summit. It would afford him a view, and he would have to stop for the night, curling himself into a fluffy ball out in the open. Often in the mornings his paws were so numb he had to nip feeling back into them. He paused to howl once he was at the hill’s highest point, wishing he’d found this sizeable slope earlier in the day. It was almost pitch black now, and even eyes as keen as his struggled to see any great distance.
Perhaps this would be his life now. Dodging wolves whose motivations he mistrusted, while tracking back and forth across the valley in search of his youngest friend.
Jul 11, 2017 06:47 AM
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