The Return - A Short Story

Chapter 1 - The Land of the Ancestors

"Now pups, settle down."

Stevva kept tussling with her brother, Strekka. At six weeks old, the pups were more concerned with play than anything else. As such, they were much too occupied with one another to pay attention to Grandma. The old wolf was sitting in the little clearing in front of the den in the lush green forest. Grandma rolled her filmed-over eyes. "Pups, please."

Stevva gave Strekka a last nip on the tip of his ear before finally turning her attention to the elderly she-wolf. Her brother tried to get back at her by pulling her tail, but she ignored him and simply sat down in front of Grandma.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A story," Grandma replied gruffly.

"Again? That's all you seem to do. Tell stories," Strekka grumbled, settling down beside his sister as well.

Grandma chuckled. "My days of leading the pack are long gone, but it is elders like us who are responsible for keeping the wisdom, stories, and legends of the packs. So yes, we do tell a lot of those." She winked. Strekka stuck out his tongue with a disgruntled expression.

"What's the story going to be this time?" Stevva cocked her head, her slightly oversized ears flopping along with the motion.

"It's probably going to be about the battle with Swift Wind Pack again," grunted Strekka.

"No, not quite that," Grandma said as she shifted into a more comfortable lying position. "It's the story of the Land of the Ancestors."

"What's that?" Stevva tilted her head the other way.

"So you are interested in hearing it?" Grandma inquired calmly.

"This is a new one, so yes." Stevva's eyes were wide with curiosity.

Strekka rolled his eyes, but he didn't protest anymore, either.

"Well, then, I'll begin." Grandma repressed a yawn and blinked her half-lidded eyes calmly.

"You see, many generations ago, and I mean over a hundred season cycles, us wolves–your ancestors–used to live in a different place. We do not abide by human borders or names, whatever they may call it, but the ancestors called it the Flatlands. It was a land not too unlike this one, but it was a lot more crowded. Still, there were forests for us to live in, and a lot of meadows and fields. Even some dunes, both at the seashore and further inland. Here, our ancestors roamed free. Nowadays we also call it the Land of the Ancestors."

"If it's such a great place and all, why did we leave?" Strekka was now invested, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The uprights," said Grandma simply.

Stevva had heard of these creatures, but luckily never encountered one before. They were said to be creatures which often hunted wolves with their boomsticks, as well as hitting them with their large and shiny loudmouths.

"Back then, the uprights didn't have all the same contraptions and technology that they do today," continued Grandma, "but they had their boomsticks and their hatred for us, which was enough. They started to hunt us. They were dead set on wiping out all of wolfkind in the Flatlands."

"But that's horrible!" Stevva burst out. "Those poor wolves! Why?"

Grandma made a noncommittal grunt. "We don't know. Maybe it's because we hunted their fluffy white deer, which they left barely protected, or just because they feared us. We're large, and we have teeth. That seems to be enough to scare most uprights."

"What about dogs, then?" Strekka flicked an ear. "Why do humans like them but not us?"

Another grunt from Grandma, this time a more bitter one. "Dogs are tame and docile. We wolves are wild and free and cannot be controlled, unlike them. That scares the uprights," She cleared her throat and continued.

"Wolves were dwindling in a rapid time, not just in the Land of the Ancestors but also neighboring countries, some wolves were forced to make a grave decision. Despite having lived in these lands for generations, they knew they had but two options: flee, or be killed.

"Some wolves were proud and refused to give up their ancestral homeland, but these wolves were sadly killed by the uprights. So the remaining wolves fled.

"These ancestors traveled many, many days of walking further east. Some died along the way, but others managed to carry through. Finally, they settled in a beautiful location: a forest that looked like it had in olden times, long before the uprights came along. We called this location the Ancient Forest. Here, the remaining wolves from the east mostly came together and settled, being taken in by various packs that already lived there. Some even formed their own unique packs."

Stevva let out an involuntary whimper. "But that's so sad. Ancient Forest might've been beautiful, but it surely wasn't the same as our ancestor's original home!"

"It wasn't," Grandma confirmed. "And the wolves who originated from eastern lands such as the Flatlands never forgot how their kind were relentlessly killed and chased from their homes. So, the story has been carried on through the generations. You, I, and your parents are all the very distant descendants of the wolves who first left the Flatlands and settled in the Ancient Forest.

"The ancestors of our own pack eventually left behind the Ancient Forest, as there were too many wolves to continue living in such a crowded place. So, very carefully throughout the generations, wolves started to travel east again. Step by step we got closer to the Land of the Ancestors. Finally, we ended up settling here, in the Swamplands. Here, my great-grandparents were raised. And of course, later on, me. And now you two are the youngest generation.

"You must remember, pups. We may have a good life here now, but we are the diaspora of the wolves of the Flatlands."

Stevva exhaled loudly through her nostrils. "But things are safer, right? Us wolves are still killed from time to time, but I don't think we're being actively exterminated anymore."

Grandma nodded. "Yes, little one, we are safer now than our ancestors ever were. But do not forget what the uprights took from us."

"Wouldn't it be safe to return now, then?" Stevva's wide eyes met the blind ones of her grandmother. Grandmother seemed to know she was looking at her, and broke eye contact.

"Perhaps," she said after a moment of silence, staring into the distance. "But I am too old for such a journey, and it is still a long distance away. Most wolves who have settled here have either forgotten with time or simply do not care anymore, such as your parents, wanting to make the best of their lives here rather than living in the past."

Stevva felt a bout of determination rise up within her chest. "Then I'm going to be the first," she bayed. "When I'm old enough to disperse, I'll travel west to the Flatlands."

Grandma let out a raspy noise, and it took a moment before Stevva realized she was laughing.

"It's not funny! I am going to!" she said, a little indignantly.

Grandma's laughter slowed down before she smiled amicably at her granddaughter. "I'm sure you will, little one." She placed a large paw on Stevva's forehead and ruffled the fur.

Strekka flicked an ear. "I don't see the point in returning to a land we haven't been in for well over a hundred season cycles. Life here in the Swamplands is good, but what if the Flatlands have changed for the worse? I agree with Ma and Da. There's no point in living in the past."

Grandma shook her head, but said nothing in response for a moment, before finally sighing. "Then at least remember," she finally said.

I will remember, Stevva told herself confidently. And I'll stay true to my word. I'll return to the Flatlands one day.