Blind (A Short Story)

In the harshest winter, animal instincts are harsh, especially when sacrifice is the easiest path.

            Weary, chilled, and empty. Those were the emotions of a weatherworn soul, one that lay broken among hard snow and sharp ice. The world was white and indistinguishable. The trees, the ground, the sky, even the sea laid covered and trapped in the cold. The world was monochrome and uniform. The lost soul thought to itself one pure, colorless thought. This is my world.

 

            The leader of a pack stood apart from the others, looking ahead. Snow and hail fell plentifully, covering the distance in a heavy shroud, but it was nothing the leader couldn’t see through, and he soon saw the frail prey through the vast space- a slender animal, separated from its own herd, and weakened by the harsh snowstorm. The animal, a small fawn, was faltering in the distance, lame. The leader grinned with satisfaction and relief, because, although he himself was strong as a leader should be, his pack was struck with hunger and dying.

The winter was too harsh this year, and prey was scarcely found, and the precious few scraps that were found were almost always granted to the young and their mothers, leading the hunters to become desperate for food. Old renegades and young scapegraces both deserted the hunt in search of their own, and their numbers were slowly dwindling, which plagued the leader and the mothers of the pack greatly, for they both feared that the youngest of the pack will have none to lead and teach them. They will leave as the others did.

The disparity was pervading the pack from the inside. The mothers and remaining hunters were beginning to be suspicious of the leader, who was still stronger than the rest of them. Behind his back, they accused him of killing and stealing prey while scouting ahead. For a long time, the seeds of rebellion had been sown, ready sprout and poison the pack even further, but the leader had held off revolt for a while, with promise that their hunt would come to fruition. And it seems that it has.

            Using his tail to brush away the snow and sleet which had accumulated around his hind legs, the leader backed away from his vantage point. He deliberately did not shake off the snow that had accumulated along his muzzle and back in order to make certain the prey didn’t notice his presence and flee. After backing a safe distance away, the leader shook the snow off of his gray pelt and flew in a sprint back to where the pack were encamped.

            The camp was a pathetic sight, and one that broke the grey-furred leader’s heart. The hunters were numbered few, only three in all, and they were thin and angry, hardly the proud warriors of the steppes that they used to be. Fenrir, the chief among them, was one with ancient battle scars and a spiked, black pelt. He skulked the most, often rejecting to even talk to the leader or help him in scouting. He didn’t even recognize the leader’s return today, and continued to rest supposedly undisturbed. The other hunters continued to feign respect for the leader, and they approached him to check if he was uninjured or if the hunt was going as planned. The leader put aside their worries quickly, and made his way to the sheltered part of the camp, hidden among dark, resolute pine trees.

            There lay a white she-wolf suckling two young pups. She was called Lupa by the pack, and she was highly respected among wolves. She had adopted the two pups after their respective mothers were taken by the cold of the winter, but was suffering greatly for it. Nurturing the pups has drained her of her own vitality, and it has left her thin and weak. Yet she remains strong in her efforts to raise the two, and strength is respected in this nomadic family. Lupa raised her head upon seeing the leader’s return, and her eyes seemed far more alive than her body.

            We are close to the prey. The gray wolf assured her. Hold out a bit longer.

            Alpha. Lupa responded to the leader with a mixture of relief and worry. The hunters are looking to get rid of you.

            I know. The gray wolf, Alpha, had known that for quite a while.

            They are planning to do so tonight. Lupa continued, almost frantic. Fenrir won’t wait until that hunt is over. You’re in danger.

            Fenrir may be ambitious, but he is no fool. The leader reassured the mother. I trust in him to wait until the hunt is over. Then I will leave on my own accord. I have led for long enough.

            This provoked an even more severe reaction from the compassionate she-wolf. You can’t! The pups scurried around their adoptive mother as she stood up to face Alpha. Don’t leave now. These pups- do you want them to learn from Fenrir? He will destroy the pack!

            That’s nonsense. The gray wolf dismissed the accusation with a wave of his tail. As I said, Fenrir is no fool. He will stay true to our traditions and practices. They are in safe hands.

            Alpha, please- The white wolf’s plea interrupted by the leader’s own.

            Lupa, I don’t have much time left. The gray-pelted leader’s eyes were heavy and sad. Let’s not fight. I don’t want any fighting. I swore we would protect each other until the end. We are family. So let’s not fight. It brings nothing good.

            Lupa stepped back, surprised at the melancholy of the ever-bright leader. Quickly, that surprise refined into disbelief. What are you talking about? The she-wolf looked incredulously upon her companion. You wish for no fighting? You want to prevent bad things? Then, why are you leaving? You think abandoning us will solve anything? You will make the problems worse!

            Do you think this is easy? Alpha replied, stung and indignant. I’m leaving because it is for the good of the pack! Do you think I want to? I am leader, and I know what is good for this pack!

            Hmph. You know, you are right. The she-wolf responded pointedly. Fenrir may not be a fool, but you certainly are. We’re better off without you. You’re blind.

            The she-wolf turned away from the leader, and bid him to leave immediately. He did.

            Fenrir stood in the snow a few meters away. The other hunters blocked off the snowy hollow, and the other mothers and young wolves straddled the edges of the woods, cowed into hiding. Fenrir stood in the center with his black fur bristling, and he bared his teeth in a challenging snarl. Alpha stood with his gray fur calmed, with a calm expression and a relaxed stride. The leader met the usurper at the center of the shaken hollow.

            Neither words nor thoughts were exchanged. The black wolf knew that he had won upon first seeing the former leader. He knew his challenge would progress without resistance. This was, however, an unsettling development for the black wolf.

            Fenrir was not unintelligent, nor was he ill intentioned. He wished that his pack would remain safe so that they may overcome the winter. Safety of his charges was his first priority, and it even excelled freedom or justice, and it was his belief that both of these must be suspended until the troubles of the cold pass. He would use the most immediate means necessary to enforce that the pack remain under strict watch and order. He knew he was tyrannical, but he felt whole-heartedly that he was a necessary evil. He needed to not only rise to power, but also to assert it. And a great leader passively passing on the title isn’t a full assertion of power, and will demote his influence greatly. In order to preserve the pack, Fenrir thought to himself, I must prove myself strongest and use that strength. Please understand that, Alpha.

            After his reflection and resolution, Fenrir snarled at the leader once more. You won’t run away, Alpha! Using all his resolution to not show his respect for the old leader.

            I’m not. The gray wolf looked surprised at the younger usurper’s hostility. I am passing on leadership to you. I do not wish to burden you or the pack anymore.

            Liar! The black wolf’s outrage was so believable that Alpha truly believed that he wished to harm him. You hoard the prey and glut yourself in secret! I have seen it myself. You hunt when you go out up scouts, leaving none for the pups and hunters here! And now you wish to leave us, and get to our frail prey before us, and harm the pack even more than you already have!

            Alpha, being a wise old fool, continued to believe Fenrir’s threats. All right. The gray wolf proposed. I will leave the opposite direction. I will walk into the storm.

            Once again, this passive peace thwarted Fenrir’s plans. The hunters growled and pawed the ground impatiently, judgingly. They wanted blood.

The black wolf’s paws stuck to the snow as if filled with lead. How can a pack fear a leader who can’t even harm a defenseless wolf? The black wolf yelped again at the calm leader. What are you doing, Alpha? He howled. I am challenging you! Has the traitor inside you consumed the noble leader of moons past? You are a  to step up to challenge, especially mine! Do you forget these scars you produced? Why are you reluctant to fight now?

            The gray wolf was almost joyed with the performance. I am old, Fenrir. He stated tranquilly, not giving in. I must leave now. I do not wish to fight you.

            Fenrir was amazed, and sad. He didn’t want a soul such as this to leave. But it must be done. Be gone, traitor! Fenrir howled across the world as he jumped upon the gray wolf.

            They fought a long time. The gray wolf fought defensively, taking blows and bites, while Fenrir attacked with enough ferocity to strike fear in the hearts of the pack, but with enough reluctance not to kill the former leader. The white around the hollow transformed to a red and mud mosaic, as the old allowed the young to take power. Savage howls and bites resounded throughout the hollow, and both sides became tired quite quickly. This continued until the sun was very close to the horizon, and the red of the ground became an echo of the red of the sky.

            And still, the gray wolf chose not to fight. He stood, with red striping his flanks and pelt. Fight, fool! The black wolf demanded. His thespian acting was being stretched to its limits, and he was nearly in tears for the sorry state of his former leader. Stand strong, and fight me! Please! I will not hold back this next attack.

            But the blind fool still stood calm, and moved into a relaxed stance, awaiting the next attack with languid acceptance.

            The black wolf could not keep this up any more. He rushed the gray wolf, and lunged forwards, blind through his tears for his victim. The collision of the paw knocked the gray wolf’s lights out at that scarlet moment.

            They never came back on.

 

            Weary, chilled, and empty. Those were the emotions of a weatherworn soul, one that lay broken among hard snow and sharp ice. The world was white and indistinguishable. The trees, the ground, the sky, even the sea laid covered and trapped in the cold. The world was monochrome and uniform. The lost soul thought to itself one pure, colorless thought. This is my world.

            The lost soul awoke in the hollow unable to stand. The black and white wolves sounded gone. The pack also seemed gone. Their smell was stale. Good. The lost soul would have been sad if they lingered over him.

The sky was alive. It was filled with many colors, with spirits and lights and beauty beyond compare. It was filled with a thousand hues and shades, all pulsing and dancing over the lost soul. The lost soul, however, didn’t ever recognize their presence, for he always was one to forsake beauty, despite his appreciation for it. The northern dance was for naught among such company.

Alone, the blind wolf contently breathed in once more, and was ever silent.

Author's Note

I don't really know whay I was going for with this, but I like it. Feel free to write a comment or review- I'd like to know what others might think of this.