Quantum Gothic

Wolfsbane

3 years ago 

My name is Wolfsbane. I was a wolf, and now I am a donkey.

I used to be beautiful. Grey with blue eyes. Could look any enemy face on and threaten them with my stare. Would lead my pack into battle with rival gangs, and would chase prey up mountainsides.

It was a wonderful life - a life of freedom and beauty. One that hardly any sane animal would trade for. Until one day I had made a fateful mistake that had nearly cost me my life.

The creek was pulling silently, flows upon flows of water trickling down from the mountainside. It was a cool wind that was blowing through the aspen trees, swaying upon the yellow flowers in their full bloom.

People had come upon this trail earlier in the day, but now the mountainside was mostly deserted. We tended to avoid this area, especially for the abundance of bears within, but I was chasing a massive bull elk.

I could smell him from a mile away. He had fathered many children and ventured into many of the valleys. Now he was approaching the end of his life, and it was obvious from the way that he huffed. His blood cells were screaming for the final breath.

"I smelt him first," said Mistborn, racing up the mountain by me.

The pack followed behind, and I tried to bite down my irritation.

"You know my every step and gait," I spat back. "How on Earths could you possibly have had the idea first?"

She flashed her teeth at me in a wicked, impeccable grin saying, "You better watch that pride of yours. It will be your downfall one day."

I snarled back.

By the time we had found the elk, he had taken his last breath. Not how I preferred it (I was used to making a grand show of my kill), but the pack began to chew at the massive creature regardless. First bite was mine - at the neck, where I could taste the blood still running through. Then slowly, after my permission, the pack began to eat.

There wasn't as much as I had hoped for. Despite being once strong and healthy, the elk's body was sick. It had begun to deteriorate from the inside out, and it filled us with sadness. This was not a glorified kill at all but rather a tragic ending for the elk.

It was getting cold and dark. We would come back here for sure, but until the meantime, we ran across the mountains pretending to terrorize all the other living creatures that came in our way. As one of the scariest packs in the region, legends of us found their ways to campers and small ground squirrels alike.

"I hear Wolfsbane's got a gaze so piercing that it sent an osprey screaming about demons," said a pika sitting on a rock.

"I was told that when Wolfsbane walked into a room," said a moose, "A male grizzly turned and said 'Nah man, I'm not dealing with THAT guy!'"

I missed the camaraderie of Yellowtail, the ways that everyone knew everyone, and had each other's back. However, the Purple Mountains were the best place to catch elk. Even in the middle of winter, we were munching on it still.

That cold caused everyone to feel stressed out more than ever. There was discussion especially among Nightshade and Hemlock, about whether Mistborn should take over as pack leader. She was the one after all who suggested we stay in Yellowtail so we could hunt for deer instead. Now, with very little elk in sight except for the ones traveling in large packs, we weren't able to afford to be picky.

I needed to do som thing to prove myself to be alpha. I knew that my pack had resented the tourists, but there was still some fear and trepidations about them. Tourists had guns and bear spray. They could easily act erratic at a moment's notice. There were even rumors that some could practice magic - an alchemical alteration of reality.