A Falling Ember

Wolves

I blearily open my eyes. My fur still feels gross and matted after last nights storm. I push myself up, careful not to put any pressure on my broken leg. It still hurts terribly, and I don't know if I'll make it home unless I get better.
I stare out of the cave. Outside I can see the plain marching out to the thin line of the road. Who knows where I would be right now if I hadn't jumped off the truck?
I make my way out, and snort in disgust at the mud I'm sinking into. I sniff the air. It smells like cold rain, and a tiny whiff of...something. Not humans, but something else. I decide to cross that bridge when I come to it. Ok. Making my way home, starting now.
I begin to move forward at a steady pace. Until I realize that I'm headed in the wrong direction. My instincts spin me around and point me at the mountain. I'm going to have to go over this enormous pile of rock in order to get to my herd. Oh joy.

I back up to take a good look at the mountain. There doesn't seem to be any passes in between the row o mountains. I'll have to go over.
***********
Two miserable hours later, I'm on the other side. I had managed to find a rocky path around the middle of the mountain, but having a broken leg made it extremely hard. I gaze out at the land in front of me. A vast forest stretches on into the horizon, where I can vaguely make out some grassy plains. I sniff the air again. It still has that scent of danger. But this is the only way home. I'll have to make do.
I set out. As I limp along, I try to focus on what I'm walking to. My mother. Birch. My father. My herd. The familiar mountains surrounding the valley. . . No. Tears well up in the corners of my eyes. I can't think about my family now, it will just make my heartache more painful.
I look around. I am walking under a blanket of thick branches with a few red leaves clinging to them. Every once in a while an evergreen shows itself, standing out like a flower in a field of dirt. Stretching out on either side of me are just more woods. Moss covered logs and shrubs cover the ground.
Then I hear something- a twig cracking behind me. I swing my rump around and stand stock still. I stretch my neck toward the sound. . . There! A flash of grey darts behind a tree. Huh. Maybe a squirrel. I keep walking forward, but I make sure to look back again and again.
The dappled light filters through the branches, and shadows flicker across the tree trunks. I'm weak, hurt, alone, and pretty much lost. I can't help thinking that if a predator were to attack, I would be-
Rooooooooooooo!
The lonely cry of a wolf echoes through the still forest.
My ears lay flat against my head as I turn around. There, in the shadow of a large oak, is a wolf.
Now, don't get me wrong, I've seen a lot of scary things in my wild life. But this is quite possibly one of the most terrifying. The wolf is almost as big as me. It snarls, showing pearly whites that probably can't wait to tear me to pieces.
The wolf starts to creep toward me, it's eyes flashing murderously. I back up, only to hear a growl behind me. A pack.
I turn, and start running for my life. I can hear the wolves panting at my heels. I leap over fallen trees and stumble across rocky streams.
The wolves follow, much more gracefully. I feel sharp jab of pain in my flank, and buck off the wolf that had been hanging there.
I sprint into a small meadow of yellow grass. The wolves burst out of the underbrush a few seconds later.
My hurt leg buckles, sending me to the ground.
The pack advances.
Bye mama, bye Birch, bye herd, I think.
I let out one more neigh, and wait for death.
It never comes.