Categories > Original > Drama > The Dark Side of the Moon
Chapter Six
Ulva woke during the night, when all was black, and breathed in the musky scent of the den. He could not smell Mother; where could she be? He clambered up into the light of the moon and shook his coat vigorously.
“Mother, are you there?” He paused, pricking his ears. The only sound was the wind that howled between the frost-bitten trees. He tried to block it out, but failed and padded through the narrow trail that led out of the clearing.
He came out of the trees and stood in the open, looking around. He was worried now; where could Mother have gone, and why had she not woken Ulva to tell him? His suspicion was growing with every passing minute.
“Where are you?” he called out into the darkness, his voice trembling. He was desperate for a reply, but no reply came.
He supposed she had gone hunting so he began to make his way to where the elk usually spent the night.
As he arrived at the foot of the snow-topped hills, he tilted his head back and sniffed at the air. All scents were half-masked by the thick veil of damp fog that hung in the air but there was the slightest smell of wolf. Could it be Mother? Ulva was not certain, but he could only be sure once he found this anonymous wolf.
He followed the trail and as he trotted along, he smelt blood on the ground. Perhaps Mother had gone hunting after all. Ulva breathed a sigh of relief and began to move faster across the sodden ground.
He could tell he was getting closer to the wolf because the smell was stronger. Suddenly, it clicked in his mind that the blood splattered on the ground neither tasted nor smelt of elk. He recognized the scent it bore after a few moments: it was wolf blood.
Ulva’s eyes widened and he stopped, standing for a while to think.
The wolf that he had thought was a stranger was, in fact, Mother and she was injured. By the look of the blood left on the bush leaves, the wound was serious. He knew he had to find her soon, before larger predators awoke to the obvious scent of a defenceless, dying animal.
He launched into a sprint and ran across the grass, afraid of what state Mother could be in when he should find her.
Ulva ran towards a clump of trees and, once he was among them, he struggled to dodge between the thick trunks.
He jumped clean over a bush and skidded to a halt just before tripping over Mother. The she-wolf was splayed across the forest floor, her once beautiful brown fur caked with mud and blood. Ulva could see, immediately, that there was a bullet-hole at the back of her neck. She was lucky to still be alive, but her time was running out.
When she noticed him standing over her, she tried to speak but only managed a gasp and went into a fit of coughs and splutters, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. The sight made Ulva collapse at her side, licking her cheek frantically, willing her to live.
Mother raised her head an inch off the ground and spoke reassuringly to her pup.
“Ulva,” she sighed, grimacing as the hole in her neck throbbed. “My son, you must flee. Go now, quickly...”
Confused, he replied quickly, “Why must I?”
“There was- a hunter. I was too slow. His gun caught me off-guard and I was- too slow,” she stuttered between groans, “but you, Ulva, you can run much faster. But you must go, now, before the twoleg returns to- take me away.”
Ulva was distraught. “But... Mother, you are dying! I cannot just leave-“
“You must! Your life depends on how far and how fast you run.” Mother strained to look him in the eye. “Go,” she sighed, letting her head drop on the ground. She was gone.
His eyes brimming with tears, Ulva shook his head gently and staggered back. This must be a dream, it had to be. The hairs on his neck stood on end when a gunshot sounded nearby and, as if triggered by a reflex, Ulva’s legs rushed him away from Mother as fast as they could.
His teeth clenched in a grimace of both anger and misery, he slumped down beside a cluster of long grass. He threw up his head and cried out to any animal listening. They would all know what had happened that night, that night when a she-wolf was mercilessly shot and killed by a twoleg’s gun.
Ulva knew he would not sleep tonight. He stood up and dug his claws into the ground. He had little energy after fleeing from where Mother had died but he knew his fury would give him the strength to run until the sun rose.
He looked over his shoulder at the clump of trees and images flashed before his eyes: Mother dying on the ground and the deep-red blood, everywhere... He pushed them from his mind and turned away.
If he did not leave now, he would never be able to. With head held high and whole body shaking in preparation for the journey ahead, he began to run.
*
Ulva found that, the further he ran, the more energy he discovered. His legs did not complain and his head was only thinking about where he was going. Truthfully, he had no idea but he had to keep moving.
Mother would not have wanted him to lie in his sorrow and weep until next moon. She would have wanted him to live up to his high expectations, join another pack, start a family and always remember the memories when he was a pup and he would sleep the day away with Mother by his side.
-
He savoured these moments that lay so freshly in his mind but they stabbed at his heart, almost wanting the tears to come streaming down his face. Ulva did not want to be gasping while he was running. He had to cover a lot of ground during the few hours of darkness there was left and crying would slow his progress. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and rid himself of the last pair of salty tears. As he ran, they trickled over the soft fur on his cheek and dodged his many thick-rooted whiskers.
The moon had moved a fraction across the brilliant, black night sky above him as he loped and the stars winked confidently at him. He blinked back at them and found himself blinded by the darkness, so he looked down again and locked his head on the trail ahead.
He had been following this path for quite a long while since his journey had begun. It was well-worn and rather dry. Most of the moisture must have been trodden into the ground by the elk that used it to travel to and fro grazing areas.
Ulva could smell the musk on the bushes at the edge of the path as he padded along, his paws beginning to ache. He would have to rest soon or they would start to blister and that was the last thing he wanted.
He gradually slowed his pace until he was practically at a stand-still, and then he looked around for somewhere he would not be disturbed.
There was a large bush nearby that formed a dome with a little hollow beneath. From above, the foliage seemed to merge together and block out any light that could possibly reach through. If he slept there, he would not wake until midday at least but he was in no hurry.
Ulva scrambled under the edge of the dome and circled until he felt comfortable and lay down in a tiny ball. He felt cramped and the leafy branches closed in around him, making it feel even smaller, if that was even possible. He found it difficult at first to get into a comfortable position but after a while, his eyes closed and his breaths became less and less frequent until he was drifting away into a long, dreamless slumber.
Ulva woke during the night, when all was black, and breathed in the musky scent of the den. He could not smell Mother; where could she be? He clambered up into the light of the moon and shook his coat vigorously.
“Mother, are you there?” He paused, pricking his ears. The only sound was the wind that howled between the frost-bitten trees. He tried to block it out, but failed and padded through the narrow trail that led out of the clearing.
He came out of the trees and stood in the open, looking around. He was worried now; where could Mother have gone, and why had she not woken Ulva to tell him? His suspicion was growing with every passing minute.
“Where are you?” he called out into the darkness, his voice trembling. He was desperate for a reply, but no reply came.
He supposed she had gone hunting so he began to make his way to where the elk usually spent the night.
As he arrived at the foot of the snow-topped hills, he tilted his head back and sniffed at the air. All scents were half-masked by the thick veil of damp fog that hung in the air but there was the slightest smell of wolf. Could it be Mother? Ulva was not certain, but he could only be sure once he found this anonymous wolf.
He followed the trail and as he trotted along, he smelt blood on the ground. Perhaps Mother had gone hunting after all. Ulva breathed a sigh of relief and began to move faster across the sodden ground.
He could tell he was getting closer to the wolf because the smell was stronger. Suddenly, it clicked in his mind that the blood splattered on the ground neither tasted nor smelt of elk. He recognized the scent it bore after a few moments: it was wolf blood.
Ulva’s eyes widened and he stopped, standing for a while to think.
The wolf that he had thought was a stranger was, in fact, Mother and she was injured. By the look of the blood left on the bush leaves, the wound was serious. He knew he had to find her soon, before larger predators awoke to the obvious scent of a defenceless, dying animal.
He launched into a sprint and ran across the grass, afraid of what state Mother could be in when he should find her.
Ulva ran towards a clump of trees and, once he was among them, he struggled to dodge between the thick trunks.
He jumped clean over a bush and skidded to a halt just before tripping over Mother. The she-wolf was splayed across the forest floor, her once beautiful brown fur caked with mud and blood. Ulva could see, immediately, that there was a bullet-hole at the back of her neck. She was lucky to still be alive, but her time was running out.
When she noticed him standing over her, she tried to speak but only managed a gasp and went into a fit of coughs and splutters, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. The sight made Ulva collapse at her side, licking her cheek frantically, willing her to live.
Mother raised her head an inch off the ground and spoke reassuringly to her pup.
“Ulva,” she sighed, grimacing as the hole in her neck throbbed. “My son, you must flee. Go now, quickly...”
Confused, he replied quickly, “Why must I?”
“There was- a hunter. I was too slow. His gun caught me off-guard and I was- too slow,” she stuttered between groans, “but you, Ulva, you can run much faster. But you must go, now, before the twoleg returns to- take me away.”
Ulva was distraught. “But... Mother, you are dying! I cannot just leave-“
“You must! Your life depends on how far and how fast you run.” Mother strained to look him in the eye. “Go,” she sighed, letting her head drop on the ground. She was gone.
His eyes brimming with tears, Ulva shook his head gently and staggered back. This must be a dream, it had to be. The hairs on his neck stood on end when a gunshot sounded nearby and, as if triggered by a reflex, Ulva’s legs rushed him away from Mother as fast as they could.
His teeth clenched in a grimace of both anger and misery, he slumped down beside a cluster of long grass. He threw up his head and cried out to any animal listening. They would all know what had happened that night, that night when a she-wolf was mercilessly shot and killed by a twoleg’s gun.
Ulva knew he would not sleep tonight. He stood up and dug his claws into the ground. He had little energy after fleeing from where Mother had died but he knew his fury would give him the strength to run until the sun rose.
He looked over his shoulder at the clump of trees and images flashed before his eyes: Mother dying on the ground and the deep-red blood, everywhere... He pushed them from his mind and turned away.
If he did not leave now, he would never be able to. With head held high and whole body shaking in preparation for the journey ahead, he began to run.
*
Ulva found that, the further he ran, the more energy he discovered. His legs did not complain and his head was only thinking about where he was going. Truthfully, he had no idea but he had to keep moving.
Mother would not have wanted him to lie in his sorrow and weep until next moon. She would have wanted him to live up to his high expectations, join another pack, start a family and always remember the memories when he was a pup and he would sleep the day away with Mother by his side.
-
He savoured these moments that lay so freshly in his mind but they stabbed at his heart, almost wanting the tears to come streaming down his face. Ulva did not want to be gasping while he was running. He had to cover a lot of ground during the few hours of darkness there was left and crying would slow his progress. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and rid himself of the last pair of salty tears. As he ran, they trickled over the soft fur on his cheek and dodged his many thick-rooted whiskers.
The moon had moved a fraction across the brilliant, black night sky above him as he loped and the stars winked confidently at him. He blinked back at them and found himself blinded by the darkness, so he looked down again and locked his head on the trail ahead.
He had been following this path for quite a long while since his journey had begun. It was well-worn and rather dry. Most of the moisture must have been trodden into the ground by the elk that used it to travel to and fro grazing areas.
Ulva could smell the musk on the bushes at the edge of the path as he padded along, his paws beginning to ache. He would have to rest soon or they would start to blister and that was the last thing he wanted.
He gradually slowed his pace until he was practically at a stand-still, and then he looked around for somewhere he would not be disturbed.
There was a large bush nearby that formed a dome with a little hollow beneath. From above, the foliage seemed to merge together and block out any light that could possibly reach through. If he slept there, he would not wake until midday at least but he was in no hurry.
Ulva scrambled under the edge of the dome and circled until he felt comfortable and lay down in a tiny ball. He felt cramped and the leafy branches closed in around him, making it feel even smaller, if that was even possible. He found it difficult at first to get into a comfortable position but after a while, his eyes closed and his breaths became less and less frequent until he was drifting away into a long, dreamless slumber.
Sign up to rate and review this story