Eclipse Child

There is something in us

that is very much attracted to madness.

Everyone who looks at the edge

of a tall building

has felt at least a faint,

morbid urge to jump

- Stephen King, The Ballad of the Flexible Bullet

Hunger caves into my stomach.

I can feel it within the other wolves also.

Small prey was not enough to satisfy their bellies.

They wanted more.

For days now, the pack had been following the herd of elk. Tracking them within the rocky terrain of the mountains as they watch the proceedings of the animals from afar.

The male nudges me with his head, capturing my attention as his eyes fixate on one elk in particular.

It’s obvious to see why.

The animal is limping.

Something about its back-left leg is off- causing it to straggle from the herd.

The wolves know it is the prey. They are the predators.

And the hunt is starting.

I don’t know what to do, but excitement runs through me all the same.

Lessons that the male had shown me within the past week run through my mind.

To my sheer disbelief though, he pushes me aside. His body pressing and herding me away. I see that he is trying to make me stay with two other wolves- younger ones that are in the awkward phase of not being a pup, yet not having that acknowledgment of adulthood.

Anger burns into my chest.

If it weren’t for the surrounding pack, and the threat of exposure- I would have shifted on the spot.

Because he was making me stand out of the hunt, and instead stay on the sidelines to watch.

The younger wolves are attentive, their whole focus on their elders. The male presses me to them.

I try to dart around, but he catches the scruff of my neck, pulling me back to the side.

A low growl enters my throat right when it emerges from his.

Challenge.

I feel my hackles rise.

My canines flash in defiance.

The wolves around us stop, stiffening at the sight.

If this male was challenging me, then he would receive his fight.

But just as I am about to attack, the male lets go, his head falling and ears pushing against his skull.

Submitting.

I’m frozen on the spot, unable to process what he is doing.

But then I take in the pack’s stance.

How they were wary of me. Like I had done something wrong.

Almost treating me like a loose fire. Raging and burning anything in sight- unable to be put out and uncaring in what it touched.

This wasn’t how the pack worked.

They didn’t challenge.

They functioned together.

The male knew this. The wolf so ingrained in his body that he had acted automatically- upon instincts- the way the animal should have.

But I didn’t.

I had acted like the skin side.

And then it hits me.

I was not acting like a wolf.

I was acting like a human who had chosen to wear fur.

An imposter.

The male stands slowly, walking cautiously to me.

He seems to have realized that I understand it now.

The other wolves around us have gone back to focusing on the hunt.

But those grey eyes are still on me.

His head goes down, falling under to rub against my neck and chest. His body slowly slides the rest of the way, all his scent catching onto me, and all my scent falling onto him.

He looks at me one last time, before turning around to rejoin the hunt.

I stay with the other two younglings. No longer feeling the anger inside that I cannot join. The two wolves beside me do not feel such emotions from it. Instead, they are watching. Taking it all in and absorbing what information they can, so that when their time comes- they are ready.

The wolves move forward.

In total there are six females and four males.

I see the tan wolf with the other males, his body silent on the cold ground as not a sound is made. Not a crunch upon what little snow had fallen that night.

And no give away as his hot breath mingles with the others- creating a cloud of heat to rise in the air.

The wolves do not take their eyes away from the hunt.

The elk who has a weak leg has separated even more from the herd.

His breaths are labored.

I can tell from the rising and falling cloud that issues from his nose. The heave of his chest as he desperately tries to keep up.

The herd was on the move.

But he was not.

My eyes focus in on the large antlers that adorn his head. The sharpness of the points.

My anxious gaze falls back to the male as he moves forward.

But it’s the females that run first.

They dart out, a snarl leaving one’s throat as the elk’s cry falls into the air.

It only serves as a warning to the others, and soon the herd is running away, fear in their steps as they leave the straggler behind.

I jolt when I realize the two young wolves are moving forward, desperate to get a closer look at the hunt. I move with them, my eyes constantly falling back to the male as they dart in and out to the scene of the females that circle around their prey.

They are faster. Lighter and containing more speed than the males- the females are able to take on the role of herding as they dart back and forward, causing confusion.

I wait for the males.

Anticipation and excitement runs through me as I watch them.

But they don’t move.

Instead, they stay silent and watchful, eyes not leaving the females as they continue their work of running back and forward- sometimes connecting their teeth to flesh- other times just pushing the elk into running and then stopping again.

A low whine leaves me when the hooves of the elk connect with one female.

She quickly yelps, a cry of pain leaving her, but shakes it off and rejoins the effort.

I don’t know how long it lasts.

Long enough though, that the elk is stumbling. Now the problem of his distortion could not be blamed on just his weak leg.

The males see this.

And they come.

My eyes never leave the tan wolf as I watch him grab onto flesh.

One of the males holds the elk by the nose, restricting his movements to let the others have better access to the kill.

The whole process- the way the wolves worked together- knew what to do.

The instinct.

The procedure.

Awe-struck.

It was the only way I could describe how I felt in that moment.

Never did my eyes leave the male.

The kill itself was not neat.

Nothing like how I would have envisioned.

Minutes pass before I can even tell the elk is gone.

Defeated.

The younger wolves give small excited noises, but don’t move.

It’s not until one of the older wolves looks at them- one glance- that they eagerly run forward.

I stay still.

Waiting.

The male’s eyes find mine as he meets my gaze.

Slowly his head lowers, his snout smeared with blood- the crimson color showing all too well on the light color of his fur.

I move.

There is enough of the elk to feed the whole pack.

The male rips a piece from the animal, dropping the strip in front of me. I cautiously take it, as he watches my movements. It’s an offering. But I don’t know for what. I don’t know why he is doing it.

He turns back to the meat, eating his own fill from the animal as I slide next to him to do the same.

The small strip he had given me had not been enough.

The other wolves do not seem to mind that I am eating their kill.

They are to focus on the warm meat in front of them.

I look up at the sound of birds. Ravens fill the air, circling overhead.

I turn to the male but stop. He pauses in his eating to glance at me, before going back to the food.

But a twisted feeling had entered my stomach. For some reason I had turned to him, opening my jaw like I was still in possession of my skin side.

I was about to point to the Ravens and say, you know when I was younger, I always wanted a bird.

The fact that I can’t share this information with him, sends a flash of anger through me.

His grey eyes don’t turn back to me.

Almost like he can sense my bitterness.

I continue to watch him, taking him in.

A ringing question running through my mind.

Who was this male?