by Sandra Elsa
Seven days later, Jon twisted in the saddle, his face lit with excitement. Pointing to a copse of trees north of the road, he said in a hushed voice, “That’s where we were when the Telgarn came. We just stopped for lunch, and daddy was getting it out of our packs when we started hearing hoofbeats coming down out of the hills. Not coming along the road normal like, but down from up north.” His small body quivered as he spoke. “Daddy told me to be quiet and stay down, then he went to see who was coming. I stayed still forever. When I didn’t hear anything else I got up to go see what was keepin’ daddy.” He turned big eyes on his audience. Reassured that he had everybody’s attention, he dove into the tale of how he received his injuries and how he remembered his daddy coming to his rescue.
“We should bury what’s left of the body,” Dylan said. ”A lot of the border guards use that copse to camp as they pass through. The sooner we remove the body, the sooner the critters will go elsewhere looking for food.”
They left the road and headed for the trees. It was easy to see why the border guards used it as a campsite. A good clear stream ran through it, fresh water tumbling down from the mountains. Large boulders within the trees provided excellent cover in case of attack, and the leafy branches provided concealment. As they approached the trees, they slowed. Dylan gave three short whistles, which sounded very much like a bird. He stopped and listened.
After several moments, when there was no response he began moving again. At the outskirts of the copse they could smell the decay that had already started eating at the body. Dylan bade Pink and Jon, “Stay here. There's no need for you to see this.” Johann and Dylan walked into the trees and froze.
Pink, who had disobeyed the order to stay, stepped to the left to see what had caused their reaction. The stench was overpowering but nothing the two men had not dealt with before.
She vomited as she saw the reason for the sudden stop. Angel barreled past her and stopped in front of Johann and Dylan. His ears were pinned to his head, a hoof pawed the air while he snorted a challenge. Less than twenty feet away, a large wolf looked up with a growl, from the rotting body of the dead soldier.
Even Johann and Dylan paled. They all backed out of the trees, putting distance between themselves, the wolf, and what was left of the body. As they hastily retreated, a tickle brushed Pink's mind. It felt very much like laughter. A familiar baritone mind voice said, “You didn’t save this one. I reckon he’s mine.”
“We were just coming to bury him,” she thought back at him.
“No need, I’ll take care of him.”
The wolf did not follow them.
When they returned to where Jon held the horse, Dylan pulled his bow from the pack and looked back toward the trees. Pink put a hand on his arm. “Let him be. He didn't threaten us, he only growled to protect his meal.”
Dylan nodded agreement. “By the size of that fellow, there won’t be much left to bury when he’s through with the body. I’ve never seen a wolf that big.”
“He's the same size as the one I saw the other night,” Pink said quietly, as they reached the road. He was the same one, but she couldn’t tell them that without telling them how she knew, and even to herself talking to animals sounded a little abnormal.
“It’s odd that a wolf that big would be eating carrion,” Dylan observed. “He’s certainly large enough to bring down a deer all by himself. I wonder where his pack is.”
“I never had a pack, and this is all I’m permitted to eat,” burned into Pink’s mind.
“What do you mean?” she questioned. But as they moved further away, the wolf did not answer. Pink didn’t know if the lack of response was due to distance, or to the anger underlying his last comment.