He Came From The Wild

Chapter One | Crash Landing

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Tap tap tap tap

Groaning, the white and grey wolf rolled up onto its stomach. He looked around the cave he called home and yawned noisily, eager to locate the sound of the insufferable noise that woke him.

Tap tap tap tap

Lightning sizzled through the air outside, offering him a chance of looking around properly. Getting up, he lazily stretched and listening to his surrounds the sound came from towards the back.

Tap tap tap tap

In an instant he realized what the noise was. The trickle of water leaking between the rocks fell as steady drips onto the rusting metal lid of what had once been a Batman lunchbox. He hurried over to the small pile of priceless items and trying to nudge the box out of harms way was proving harder than he thought.

In a series of cracks and breathless gasps the wolf disappeared and in his place, crouched a man. Rough, calloused hands gently picked up one of the few items that reminded him of another time and grabbing a piece of rag he wiped the water away, taking with it more of the black felt marker that once spelled out his name and owner of the tin leaving a faint blur.

"Braydon," he mumbled. Closing his eyes he tried to remember a time when he was something - someone. A lone tear ran down his cheek and putting his things in a safer position, he turned and became the wolf once again. Walking out into the storm, his pelt was soon soaking from the rains assault and as the wind howled by him, his own call of the night was carried with it.

The wolf hadn't gone far from his cave when the unnatural roar filled the forest he called home. The summer storm had sent the majority of the animals into hiding and looking around, he ran back out into the clearing. The decision to leave his own shelter was one that filled him with regret until he caught sight of the plane and took off as fast as he could in the direction in which it landed as explosions mixed with thunder.

By the time he got there, the worst of it was over. Taking in the sight of burning forest, smoking wreckage and mayhem, he knew he should check for survivors. It was the human thing to do. But then what? He didn't know first aid; he didn't want to be found. What did it matter to him someone chose to fly in this weather? From where he stood on the edge of the forest, he just watched and movement from under what had been a wing of the plane made him tense.

"Andy! I can't find Andy!" The hoarse voice screamed, close to hysteria. The human figure fell to the ground, throwing up as the smell of blood mixed in with the smoke and burning of the crash site. Another figure stumbled out, his state less mobile than the first humans.

"Dead, they're dead." The older voice mumbled, "We need to move."

"Is there a body? She wasn't in her seat. The chair came loose and-"

"I'm sorry kid, come on." Helping Rory stand, the two men moved from the wreckage. They leaned against each other for support, coughing, crying and barely evading death themselves. The rain began to pour down, harder than before and the wolf keenly followed the survivors. The older one seemed to know what to do; taking out devices from a suitcase. It was some kind of radio and despite favoring his arm as well as his whole right side; he managed to get it working instantly calling for help.

Rory threw up again, groaning as there was little shelter from the storm and before long both men had passed out beside each other. It was the closest to humans the wolf had been in quite a few years and while it was safe to do so, moved among them curiously. He inspected the few things the old one had carried from the wreck, the first aid box the most interesting he decided to add it to his own collection of things as he remembering the time he had a splinter in his finger, it was a wise choice.