Chapter 12

A light breeze drifted through the sleeping steppe as a small wolf quietly dreamed next to his pack. His father lay next to him, his ears always alert. Everything was quiet, everything was peaceful.

A twig snaps. Seb jumps up, his hair raised and his fangs showing, he sees small flickering lights emerging from the small forest next to their resting place. His howl brings with it the roaring wind as he wakes his pack. The little wolf wakes up in fright, all he sees is his father’s fur as he surrounds him, along with his white paw pushing him back. Seb growls once more, and little Mes quickly realizes what is about to unfold.

The war starts with a flame. As a single torch is thrown and the wolves back away. Fifteen men jump from the thicket, spear in hand and blood in their eyes. Seb senses the will to fight in his son’s roar and turns to him. The father growls once more, and Mes sees the shaking in his fangs, he knows he has to flee.

As the pup hears the pained yelp of one of his young friends, he begins running. As much as he wants to look back, the howls of his family tell him not to stop. He looked for a place to hide but the open steppe stretched out along the horizon. One pained cry echoed through the sky; he knew who that belonged to. As he tried turning his head to see if he was still alive, he missed a ditch on the ground. He rolled around the incline, unconscious by the time the ground straightened.

As the morning came, Mes woke up. He ran as fast as he could, one of his paws still hurting from the fall, back to his pack. His pace slowed down as he saw what came of them. Burned grass and bloodied earth. His father’s smell still lingered, and as he walked closer to the source, he saw a giant pool of blood, the biggest of them all. It was the most he had ever cried, his tears dripped down his body, cleaning his little white paw.

Nine times had the moon grown full since then. Little Mes had become a great wolf, with a pack nearly as big as the one he had in infancy. He was proud of his family, even more so of his son, Hetep, whose paw was also tinted white, despite only on the bottom.

One day, as they walked through the giant steppe in search of a new hunting ground, fit for the ever-increasing size of his pack, Mes heard something. He stopped and lifted his snout to the air; the rest of his pack stopped with their leader as an unknown odor spread around them. He recognized that smell, the biting stench of blood had been a part of his life ever since that day.

With a low growl, he readied his pack for a fight, but that sound was more than enough for the enemies to jump from the thicket. A pack of dirtied wolves, led by a giant figure with eyes crimson red, all ran up to Mes, ready to fight for their den.

Without even drawing breath, Mes howled with enough force to stop the enemies mid-sprint. Those seconds were just enough for Hetep and the other pups to head to the back of the pack. As the enemy wolves once again tried to run straight through his family, Mes chased them back. The few that attempted to bite him were quickly flung back as he spun around, scattering the wolves. After getting up and making sure no one in his pack was at a disadvantage, he realized the wolf with red eyes was gone. Looking back, he sees they have been surrounded, but before he can try to move the enemy, he hears a yelp. The fur on his back shoots straight up and he immediately runs through the battling wolves to the back of the pack.

He sees the other pups running into the middle of the packs, and then he sees blood. The trail runs down a small paw, its little white marking dripping crimson.

His vision goes blank for a second, all Mes could see was the figure hunkering over the corpse of his son. The rage of losing more of his family overtakes him as he jumps over to the one who murdered his son, baring his fangs as he dug them into his neck.

Mes is shaken off but jumps back to him the moment he hits the ground. Their fight quickly kicks up a dust cloud, and with each time one of them is thrown to the floor, the earth shakes. Soon enough the other wolves ceased their fight, in awe over the strength of their leaders.

Had they both been at their peak, Mes would have surely lost, but as he dug his fangs once more into the wolf’s neck, he realized how old and worn his fur was. He shook his head with vigor until he heard a snapping sound, and only let go after he could feel the body slump to the ground.

He takes a step back, looking over at the rest of the wolves, stunned by his actions. In that moment of hesitant silence, Mes could finally see clearly again. He begins searching for his son, but the first thing he sees when he looks down is a white paw, larger than his own. He licks the blood off, and his heart sinks as he sees what he had done. He cries to the air, a howl that is short-lived before he too falls to the ground, the wounds he suffered are too large to ignore.

Mes manages to get up and walks next to his father, every wolf makes way for him. With the last of his strength, he begins digging. Everyone stands quiet as he finishes a hole large enough for his father before dragging him into it. As he is about to start making another hole, he falls to the ground once more. This time his family aids him while the other pack covers their leader in dirt. After a hole big enough for Hetep is made, Mes continues to dig until the hole grows as large as the one he had created for his father.

He slumps over to his son and grabs him, walking back into the hole and laying down, nesting himself around his son and closing his eyes.

Mes hears howls coming from all around him, lasting for what seems like forever. As the sound begins fading, he is left with the silent souls of his family, lulling him to his final sleep.