The War that Approaches

         A winter silence hung over the woods like the darkest of fogs. The air was thick, and yet the sky was deep blue from the early morning light. Every step they took, every muffled crunch in the deep snow, was magnified ten-fold, but there wasn’t a whisper or a breeze in the silence.  There was a clearing in these woods. Soft snow fluttered down and joined the thick white blanket on the ground. The trees were barren and the branches were drooping from the weight of the ice that had gathered on them; long icicles forming at their tips. A single white wolf crouched, eyes squinting, every muscle; tense, ears perked up and twisting at every angle, alert in the clearing.

         Far off, a twig snapped. The noise was sharp and it frightened the beast, but the beast did not move. It growled at the intruders in his woods. Anger rippled through the wolf making its hair stand on end. Then another twig snapped. The wolf shot a look to the right and gazed upon a human dressed in a grey military uniform and wearing a gas mask with black lenses. The human walked casually forward towards the wolf, his black boots sunk deep into the snow with every step.

        The wolf growled deeper and more threateningly, its tale sinking a fraction of an inch towards his legs. Who were these humans? The wolf thought, why were they here? The wolf had seen humans like these before, in a village far to the west of this lonely wood, but what reason did they have for intruding on his territory?

       The man advanced another step. The wolf backed up. He knew these humans were capable of violence. The man pulled his other leg out of a deep pit of snow and planted it firmly next to his other. He proceeded to slowly remove something strapped to his back, not wanting to startle the white wolf; he proceeded cautiously.

        The wolf sunk even lower to the ground, nearly touching the tip of its nose to the frozen earth.

         It sensed danger.

        The man with feet firmly in the snow removed the rifle from his back. A long black barrel with a shiny rung on the tip, it gleamed with malice. He set it at his waist and put a small silver object into a deposit near the trigger. The wolf’s eyes widened, it took a step forward.

         A sharp click as the cocking mechanism was set back.

       The wolf raced forward, madness in its eyes, blind to everything else around it. It lunged forward and leapt off the ground. It soared through the air to the man.

       A loud blast shattered the silence of the cold morning.  It shook the birds from their roosts. It woke the deer who ran away in fright. And it signaled to the troops to keep on moving.

       The proud white wolf, queen of the wood, lay lifeless in the snow.

        Her eyes were glassy, yet fixed on the spot by the furthest tree, where her young cubs were hiding in a tiny hole beneath the bushes, sleeping, unknowing of their mother’s fate. Too young to fend for themselves, they would be soon killed in the same brutal fashion as their mother.

        Blood still poured from the wound on the wolf mother’s left shoulder, staining the white fur and snow around it crimson. The man kicked the wolf in disgust. Her body buckled silently under his foot.

        “Move out!” He called. As if on cue, hundreds of identically dressed soldiers entered the clearing. The sound of their black leather boots echoed a steady beat through the morning air. The man remained where he was. Soon, a smaller soldier ran up to him, nearly hopping through the snow from footstep to footstep. He reached the general out of breath. The general waited for the soldier to catch his breath before asking, “Well?” The man posted his arms against his knees and looked up at the general. “Everything is in order sir, the airship strike force is ready at your command, and the water transports are all primed and ready to set sail.”

         The general looked away from the soldier and gazed out at the rising sun that was just starting to break over the trees casting eerie shadows against the snow. Under the gas mask, the general had a smug smile.

        “Very well. . . tell them to set off when ready. We attack Rova at first light tomorrow.”