A Drizzle of Home

2 | A Drizzle of Escape

Rocking my weight back onto my haunches, I positioned my sprawled hind legs to lay parallel to my flank and took a deep breath. As I heaved it outward, I willed my shoulders upward and slowly straightened my single, working foreleg to hoist my front half into the air.

My bones ached with every hair's breadth of motion, but thankfully, they held. My mangled forepaw––or lack thereof––remained limply hanging, as useless as it had been all morning. The sun traveled farther since the last time I woke, and it hid in the canopy of pines across from me. I made a mental note, marking the river in the direction it had risen. My only goal was to get as far away from there as possible.

The majority of my weight was in my rump, still seated firmly on the ground. I'd merely done the easy part, a sad statement to make about the simple process of standing.

My toes spread and planted firmly in the sand, I focused on lifting the rest of my body. I slowly pushed upward with my hind paws. The muscles in my thighs burned, but I forced myself through the pain. My legs trembled as I rose, and my feet slid forward in the shifting soil. I dug my claws deeper into the ground, each grain sharp against my paw pads. My teeth clenched and a scowl twisted my muzzle, but I stiffened my legs and kept going. As my hind finally leveled with my shoulders, I straightened my knees and locked them into place.

I kept my weight steady and centered on my haunches. Merely rocking forward without a second foreleg to catch myself would be disastrous, ending with a face-plant. I was determined to conquer standing, even if it was a long way from leaving.

The scent of danger still lingered in the air around me. I only hoped I'd be gone by the time the strange wolves that left it returned.

There was no time to savor every small victory, so with a grunt, I lifted my right hind leg. Left balancing on two diagonal supports, I swiftly placed the foot a paw-length further. The jerky movement imbalanced the rest of my teetering form, and my body shifted backward. I tossed my other hind paw forward, more hop than step, and it reached the ground before I tipped over. Instinctively leaning forward, I put my weight onto my foreleg.

It gave way beneath me. My muzzle smashed into the ground, jaws rattling against each other. I exhaled with a slow whine, trying to keep my breath from shaking––or sighing in defeat. I couldn't give up just yet.

Positioning myself to stand once more, my legs hurt even more than before. My muscles burned and each paw trembled under my weight. I didn't even reach my full stature before I was on the ground again.

I blinked back the tears that begged to rush forth. There was a rush of fiery anger in the warmth that flooded my cheeks. I clenched my teeth tighter, the bitter taste of blood trickling from my gums, and I readied myself to stand. The time for patience was over. What kind of pathetic creature couldn't even take a single step? Nevermind the missing paw, it was no excuse to be this weak. This powerless and frail. Just a shell of a wolf.

Growling through the pain, I jerked my body upward, a thoughtless and sporadic motion. My legs bore the weight with a dull throb, but I stayed upright, and a wave of cool relief washed over me. I'd done it. It wasn't a step, but progress nonetheless. Maybe the key to figuring this whole walking thing out was just not thinking.

The moment of truth was yet to come. I still had to get away from the river.

Before I was ready, my ears perked at a noise. A branch snapped in the distance, and shrubbery rustled as something passed through. I had to go.

I flung my single foreleg forward, squeezing my eyes shut and blindly diving after it. I could only hope for a miracle––but all mother nature provided was another mouthful of sand.

The side of my face slammed into the riverbed. It jarred my skull, and pain dug its long talons deep into my neck. A horrible ringing filled my ears, piercing my brain and forcing out a howl of agony. Tears flooded my eyes, still closed tightly, but they pushed past.

As the sharpened noise began to fade, an even worse one took its place: a sort of high pitched series of grunts, but it didn't sound angry. Rather, it was more like... laughing.

I tore my eyes open, flames of sunlight gnawing at my widened pupils. They quickly shrank to adjust, and my salty tears extinguished the fire.

Glowing embers danced in my vision, but through the narrow line of sight that remained, I could make out two mounds of black. The image focused into the outline of bones. Four wide digits came together to form a slick-haired foot. A single, long but blunt nail emerged from each toe, and mud clung to the curved undersides. Dark red freckles stained the surface of each crescent-shaped claw.

A vibration formed deep in my throat, a hoarse and wary grinding-of-stones. The growl spoke the first of three words, while the next came from curled lips and bared teeth. The last sat atop my skull: ears facing outward and pressed flat against my head. Come no further.

I held the warning on my tongue, glaring at the dark wolf. His stature stood about the same as mine, and his weight easily rivaled my ribby form. There was something youthful about his features, scrawny about his legs and the disproportion to his paws. Not a single scratch sat atop his muzzle––which was no longer laughing. He didn't take kindly to my command, deliberately stepping forward with a snarl of his own.

The musk of testosterone seeped from his pelt, aggression prickling the fur along his back. It triggered an instinct I had no control over.

I shoved myself backward with my forepaw, urging my hind legs to do the same. They didn't respond fast enough, weakly pushing upward as my weight rushed over them. I scrambled to regain my balance, but they slid forward in the sand. All three of my paws collided with another before leaving the ground, and I landed on my back with a yelp. Another wave of pain cascaded down my spine, while my belly lay exposed from above.

Gritting my teeth, I rolled sideways, desperate to turn myself upright. I couldn't see the dark wolf. My muscles tensed as I pressed my bruised ribs into the ground, trying to settle back onto my stomach. The final turn was a struggle. My body ached and refused to budge. A stutter of anguish caught in my throat, and I threw my weight again. Cool air met my side, and my lungs overflowed with a groan.

I collapsed onto my belly, whipping my head around to find my attacker. My eyes raked the trees and the shadows between them, but the straw-littered ground held no shifty, coal-colored paws. I searched for sounds with stiffened ears, but the wolf was now silent. His scent swam around me, still close but unseen. I wasn't sure why he was waiting to attack. I'd been wriggling like a turtle on its shell, my underside completely exposed. He should've gone for the throat, but his youth betrayed his sense of urgency. Instead of striking, fast and merciful, he was toying with me.

There was one last thing that told of his juvenile ignorance: uncontrolled breathing, unchecked excitement. The rapid th-thump, th-thump, th-thump of his heart. It was right behind me.

I craned my neck as far as it would go, my teeth grinding against each other. The dark wolf stood with his front low to the ground. His feet were spread and his fangs glowed in the daylight. A flame of eager malice lit up his marigold eyes, a touch of amber rimming his dark and widened pupils. He let me meet his gaze––see his prideful prowess––to know he would be the one to take my life. I could do no more to defend myself. My body was weak and dull. I wouldn't struggle, and hopefully, he wouldn't make me suffer.

The dark wolf sank lower, his legs rigid, ready to lunge.

I took one final, gasping breath, and held it in my lungs. I closed my eyes as his claws landed on my withers and dug into my hide.