Fateful Hunt
Copyright © Emmi Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.
Short Story (Approx 14200)
Me’nor knew exactly when Nat lost the scent. The poor pup yipped in frustration and fret over the ground-up soil, ruining whatever hint might have clung to the soggy trail. The rest of the pack gathered quickly, the dogs he loved leaping excitedly over rotting wood and skidding through the muddied ditch that had formed years before when a burrow had collapsed. Another long ago hunt with only the black sky to bear witness to its failure.
“Aw, Nat.” Me’nor knelt, already too covered with smears and spatters of mud to heed the mess as he scrubbed the pup between the ears. “You’ve got to learn some patience, love.”
Nat snorted and shook himself, spraying his litter mate, Alo. She snapped at his flank in retaliation, sending them both sliding into the ditch, playfully fighting. Their dam, Kos, stood over them serenely, watching, but blatantly not interfering.
Ignoring the pups, Me’nor sniffed the heavy air. Something lingered. Not the moss hare the pups had been intent on eating. Something else. Something more dangerous. Win could smell it too. She was at his side immediately, her mind tugging on his, her nose to the ground, peeling away the overwhelming scent of moisture clinging to every branch, leaf and rock surrounding them.
“That’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than to Win. She responded anyway, with a light warning that spread though the collective consciousness of his pack. “And this close to the treaty line…” Continue reading
