Wolf Howls
By Moana Kammerer
Chapter 1
One wolf howl is followed by another, then another, and another…
Their steamy breath white in the cold air, the crunch of paws breaking through the first snow. The first snow it may be – but it was deep, deep, deep.
At a glance from the lead pair, Oldgrey and Darkfur, the rest of the pack sticks their muzzles into the snow [a trick to make the prey think that they are far when they are close].
The elk before them was a mighty creature that could kill a lone wolf with a kick, but a pack of wolves together is a threat even for a bear.
The pack approached silently, golden eyes shining, tensing to leap, waiting for the signal of the lead pair.
A glance of an eye, a heart beat, the wolves spread out, chasing the elk to where Oldgrey and Darkfur lay in wait to bring it down with the swipe of mighty paws.
The whites of the elk’s eyes were showing, and its terrified panting threw a screen of mist into the air. A powerful bite, and it was over.
The wolves slunk back respectfully to let the lead pair feed.
Then the next, and then the next, until the almost-cubs could have their turn to feed.
The pack dragged back the carcass, padding silently after the successful hunt, and they curled up in the den.
Days passed until the beginning of deep winter.
And deep winter is deep…
Chapter 2
The pack was awake, instantly alert, ready.
They knew that the deafening thunder of snow could mean only one thing: an avalanche….
Springing to their feet, the wolves didn’t stop to think. Iced waterfall, frozen, thundering down, snow-covered pines, icicles so large that they could skewer a wolf, a thundering deadly blanket of snow and snow, snow so deep that they could hardly walk, let alone run…
It was a terrifying choice between two evils: risk being struck, unable to flee the snowy death, or risk being buried alive in the den…
The den might hold, or not, but it was safer than certain death!
A decision flickered in the golden-brown eyes; there was a chance, a slim chance for survival and if the den held, then they maybe could dig themselves out…
They would stay!
Time seemed to slow, the unimaginably strong deadly power of the elements broke over them, thundering snow: nothing else could be heard but then it was just a rumble, then a whisper, and then… nothing!
They had survived!
But now a wall of snow centimeters thick blocked their every hope of escape!
There was only one thing to do: dig, dig, dig.
They grew fatigued from digging, scratching desperately. They knew, though, if they waited too long then their need for food would make them too weak to hunt even if they escaped the cave. And if they were too weak to hunt, then they could not survive.
They needed to get out now, or else…
So scratch, dig, scratch, dig, scratch, dig, scratch, dig, dig scratch ….
Suddenly, a glimmer of light, a snow-drenched landscape, and freedom!
However the tired wolves still needed food, or they would not survive.
Withered Flowers
By Friso Althuis
Chapter 1: Wars and Flowers
He’d left the base at noon, he thought, and the sun was still high in the sky, beating down on him. Robert was making good progress, despite it. He reached into his right pocket for the pocket watch, a heavy silver heirloom. It’d stopped ticking long ago, after the event, but it was an item reassuring to hold. He slipped it back, checked to see if his weapon was still there, and picked up his pace. He was walking along a stretched junkyard of rusted husks of metal. A highway. It used to be called a highway.
He jumped onto the hood of a car to look around. His gaze followed the long road. “Far as the eye can see,” he said, no one to hear him. Robert thought to pass the time. Sometimes he’d check if he could see his destination already, or if it was time to get off the highway. Sometimes he’d crouch if he were alerted by some sound. Then he’d get onto his knee and see if the owner of the car he’d been hiding behind had gotten out in time. His thoughts always returned to the war. World War 3. It had lasted 8 years, and eventually died out because no one signed up. In the end it turned out some infamous bio terrorist from years back started it all. Robert sighed and jumped over the rails into the going lanes, weaved through, and got off the highway.
The days were longer this time of year. The sun was now at a slight angle. He could see the hill in the distance. His destination. He’d been there only three times over the years since the event, but he was sure. The tree on top had grown notably. Robert started towards it at a jog and thought about the two years after the war he’d hated to serve in. A series of attacks had made the news. He could see each one building up. The release was two years after the war ended, on the dot. The event. Those two years after the war were undoubtedly the greatest in his life. He married the girl he’d been in love with, they bought a house, they had kids. Fraternal twins. A boy and a girl. They were beautiful. Then all the nukes in the world went off simultaneously.
“Patience is all you need in life,” Robert whispered to himself. “That’s what I always say.” It was the first thing he’d teach his children once they could understand. He watched carefully as the starving wild dog with a gnarled face and half the fur a dog should have sniffed around in the grass thirty yards away. He’d made it to the bottom of the hill and was hiding behind one of the few boulders there. The sun was getting lower but he’d make it back home before it got dark. Robert checked to see if his weapon was there.
He looked at the ground and whispered. “Just in case.” That’s what he’d tell himself. He was better off with it than dead, in this time. He hated the thing. It was a wooden baseball bat with ten nails hammered into it and duct tape wrapped around it to keep it together. There were spots of dried blood around the nail heads. Robert had had enough of taking life. He could see nature restoring the Earth, with grass, trees, and flowers growing again. The animals were having trouble now but he hoped they would come back to normal too. Suddenly he heard a noise, and his focus returned to the moment.
The dog had caught Robert’s scent and growled. He peeked from behind the rock, and it bared its teeth and started slowly towards him. Robert unlatched the makeshift clasp that held his bat and grabbed it. He held it tightly, then picked up a rock the size of his palm. He was still behind the boulder. The wild dog was now fifteen yards away. It barked. He jumped out from his hiding place and lifted the rock over his head. The action made him taller and he was ready to throw. He aimed, causing the beast to growl, then it whimpered, submitted in fear, and scattered.
Relieved, he looked to the top of the hill. Although not very high, it was a steep climb. By the time he got to the top he needed to rest. “Either I’m getting old, or this hill’s steeper than it was before,” He said under his breath. Once he’d taken two moments to rest, he figured it was time to find what he’d come for; the flowers. They were beautiful red flowers, ones he’d only ever seen on this hill, ones his wife used to love. It was the only reason he ever had to come here. Robert needed three of them. Four would be too many, two too few. He’d drawn a sketch of one in his notebook from memory. He’d got it working for the city. They didn’t give him much other than food, so he was grateful.
It took him a quiet while to find all three; it was nearing evening when he did. The first was relaxing on the side of the hill, bathing in the remaining rays of sun. The second hid between the tall grass on the dark side of the hill. The third bloomed under the tree. When he’d found all three, Robert sat on a rotten bench with grass grown through it. He was surprised he hadn’t seen it when he arrived. He spotted two little birds flying overhead. They fluttered about and chased one another. He noticed they hadn’t been affected by the event and smiled. Most other animals were ravenous and fearful. “Ain’t that a pretty sight?” He asked, wishing he had someone to share it with.
Chapter 2: Housebreakers
Once the birds had left him alone on the hill, Robert stood to start the return journey. He had the three flowers in his right hand. They way down seemed even steeper than before but he started anyway. It would take him the same amount of time as the first journey, and he hoped he’d get back before full-dark. His house was on the edge of a ghost town; where he lived before. The way too the hill had been full of thoughts, the way back was silent.
When he re-entered the settlement, Robert noticed something was off. His home was no longer entirely abandoned. “Raiders,” he muttered under his breath. The word referred to the large wild groups of stranglers that tore apart everything. “I better get home before the bastards find me.” He muttered again. Then he froze in his step. “Now, who are you?” A voice asked from behind him. “You the hermit?” A younger voice questioned, as though he were in an interrogation. “The hermit?” he asked them as he turned around. He also reached for his make-shift clasp. “I wouldn’t do that,” Someone behind him warned, “or I’ll test my new knife out.” Robert now had a man his age and a younger one in front of him, and a wild woman’s voice behind him. He spoke cautiously, “I only got a bit of food on me, and that’s in the pack. You can have the bat too, as long as I can go.” The older man thought about it. The younger one looked around. The woman was staring at her knife. Robert looked at the way they were dressed. The older one wore long, clean khaki pants and a coat that was too small. The younger one wore torn black pants with a long blue coat. The woman wore grey jogging pants and a green parka that had a few rips in it. Finally, she got tired of standing around. “Does it matter if we take it? Henry wanted to see everyone we’d find.” This caught Robert’s attention. “Henry?” He asked the three. “You’re with Henry?” Now the older one looked up, and the other two looked at him. “You’ve met Henry before?” Robert looked down, and nodded. The younger man said “So he is the hermit.”
They’d put a blindfold on him, but he knew the whole town by heart, and recognized the building they’d brought him to as the old library. The years had pushed over the massive shelves, and parts of the roof had fallen through. It was a good location for a party of forty nonetheless. The three sat him down in a chair and one of them left for a moment to return with Henry himself. Henry wore a different coloured parka with no rips in it and a pair of jeans. With a belt, Robert noticed.
The leader had green eyes, a nose that wasn’t quite massive, and a short beard. Robert’s own eyes were brown, his face slightly scarred, and clean-shaven. He wore a very dark grey jacket and lighter grey trousers.
“Here we are again Rob. How long has it been?” Henry’s voice was not very deep, but there was no missing the sincere seriousness. He was sizing up the person sitting in front of him, possibly comparing him to their previous encounter. Robert didn’t reply; both knew that it had been just a year ago. “My men took to calling you the ‘hermit’ after that, but you aren’t the only one of your type.” Last year, the raiders found his secret and he attacked them, but they didn’t kill him. Two of his scars were from the fight he put up. “What do you want from me this time?” He asked, looking p at the leader. Henry brushed the question off. He smiled.
“Would you like me to tell you how this group came to be, Rob?” Robert never liked raiders. “We banded together because we couldn’t start a farm or set up some new way of living normally like the folks over in the city. We survive by looting and stealing from places that were abandoned after what happened. That’s what we do. We don’t burn things down or keep crazy traditions like the other knucklehead leaders of their ‘war-bands’.” He paused and stared at Robert. They were about the same age. Robert looked around. “How very interesting. But I want to know how you here got this band on a leash.” Through the holes in the roof, it was getting to full-dark.
“How nice of you to ask.” Henry said. “After what happened, I just wandered with my family, trying to survive like the rest. For almost two years, it must have been. Then we lived in the city, they turned sick, we were kicked, and they died out here in this wasteland.” Pain showed on his face. “It was beautiful here once. I was about to do what the sickness hadn’t done to me until I ran into two families, both of which had five people. They’re sitting over there.” He pointed to a different section of the building. “They had supplies, they had shelter, they had each other. They saved me, and I decided to protect them and tell them what to do. To live, or stay alive.” He added. “Most of the stragglers we’ve picked up since then are people that have been kicked like my family was. We’re about forty strong.” Robert now looked up to Henry with respect. He hadn’t been given the speech last time, and he wondered if Henry had lead his people here just to give it.
He thought for a moment, and said, “That’s a moving story, but I’d like to ask why you had me brought here. I offered to give these three my bag to get away. You could have taken it. And I’d like to get home; I’ve got a meal to get to.” Henry nodded as he listened, and beckoned one of his followers to give him something. “That’s true enough, Rob. I just wanted you to know you’re welcome to eat with us. We’re moving out in four days. And I believe these are yours.” He said, handing Robert the flowers.
Chapter 3: A Meal To Get To
The town felt empty once again, and it was full-dark. It was never a bright idea to be out at full-dark. He’d grown used to the feeling, but being alone wasn’t comfortable for him. Robert was careful not to encounter any more wild dogs. He thought about Henry’s offer, and grabbed his silver pocket watch. Maybe it would be better to decide tomorrow, he thought.
He entered his home through the white front door at the top of the steps. He unlatched the makeshift clasp and put his bat against the wall. Then Robert was greeted with an extinguished cheer from his excited twins and a faded kiss from his loving wife. He was hungry, but he prepared the flowers first. He cleaned them with drinking water and found a vase for them. They would be important the following day. The three red flowers shined together, like his family did.
When that task was completed, he started to prepare a warm dinner for himself and his family. On that day, the meal would be canned food, a delight, courtesy of the city. Unsurprisingly. Robert got out the cutlery. He placed a fork and a spoon at each of the four seats. HE then separated the result of his cooking into four bowls, and placed those at the seats as well. He ate with his family.
His wife asked about the day’s adventure, and he told her about it in exciting detail. The twins looked at each other, and played with their food. Robert was sat across from his daughter, on the right of his son. His wife paused, looked down, and asked again if she could join him the next time. He told her that it was too dangerous, and brought up the raiders again. She said there was nothing to do, and that the kids knew to lock themselves in if there was danger. They stopped, looked down, and continued eating. Then it was his turn to ask what they had done that day.
Dinner ended shortly after that, and Robert elected to wash the dishes himself. He did so silently, using clean water and the remains of a sponge. He washed his hands and face. In the basement, he brought order to everything. He also added an entry in his pocket notebook on the leader of a band of forty strong.
Once everything was done, he brushed his teeth with an engineered toothpaste and set himself in bed. It had been pitch black out for a while, and he was ready for rest. Robert’s wife shifted next to him, the children on a nearby mattress. He felt old that he needed less sleep. At one point, his son joined his parents in their bed, and his daughter too. He carried them away to their own bed once they fell asleep again, and waited to sleep himself.
The early morning was cold. He could see the smoke of fires from the library. It had rained over night. The ground was wet, and Robert thought about the holes in the library’s roof through which he’d seen full-dark the night before. He held the three flowers in his hand. Without them, there wouldn’t be a reason. His family was coming with him today. To visit the secret.
There were only a few clouds, but they suspiciously blocked out the sun. He walked with his family for a short while until they’d left the town and met the open field. “Far as the eye can see,” he said again. No one reacted. The kids did ask him where they were going, and why. They didn’t want to; they would rather have stayed. He told them that he’d built the secret nine years before on that day, and that they’d been there twice before already. They came here every three years together; that’s how old they were. Sometimes he came alone when he got worried, but that didn’t matter. This time was special.
They’d arrived at the place. The grass had grown tall, and he promised to come gain soon to cut it. He scanned around, and found the first stone. Maybe he could build a low wall around the field, he thought. Soon he saw the next one, and the next stone. He’d organized them into a grid, so finding the first meant the others were easy to realize as well. Most of them were different sizes but there were pairs and triplets that looked similar.
He followed the path he had made the years ago, flowers still in his right hand. Once he reached the center of the massive complex, Robert kneeled before the three most important stones there. The sky got darker. This is where the town’s people were. Three stones, three flowers, three beautiful family members. A graveyard. The first stone had JUDITH MOORE, 2049-2074 scratched into it, with MOTHER under that. The second had ELANA MOORE scratched into it, with DAUGHTER under that. The final one had JONATHAN MOORE scratched into it, with SON under that. His son. Hours passed as he knelt before each one, staring at the ground. HE placed the flowers before the graves, and when he did each of the three memories with him withered away.
Robert knew they’d return to him eventually.
Chapter 4: A Memento
Noon had come and gone when he looked up from the graves of his family. He stood and looked around confusedly before realizing where he was. The walk home alone was slow and disconnected. When he reached the steps before his front door he stopped and looked up as though he didn’t recognize them. Then he turned around, and headed in the direction of the old library.
Robert turned the corner and saw people outside the building. Real people. He stepped forward. No one noticed him. The clouds no longer hid the sun. He could say something and they’d really talk to him. He could shout and they would see him. He turned around and ran. They heard his footsteps, and watched him leave, Henry too.
He reached home breathless but still jogging at a commendable pace. He hurried to a drawer in the kitchen to retrieve the only battery that still had charge within it. He then brought himself to the nightstand in the basement, next to where he slept. He grabbed another item important to him that had survived the event. His camera. It should not have worked due to its age, but he stuffed the battery in and came to the brink of crying when it blinked on.
There was only one file on the camera; a three minute video. He opened it and watched, staring at the elegant figure of his wife dancing ballet. It came so naturally to her, spinning around and moving so fluidly. He had just knelt before her grave, but now Robert knelt holding her once again, and he exploded. Tear after tear poured down his scarred face, and she held him too.
The Paw Print 