Pursue

by Vella Munn

  Not much frightened her, either.

  “A wolverine? Bigfoot maybe?”

  Her attempt at humor fell on deaf ears, hers included. At least she’d given herself a momentary distraction, and when she again gave her surroundings her full attention, she realized she’d made a decision. Standing here with her stomach tied in a knot wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

  “Please come with me,” she asked the dog. “Between the two of us maybe we can scare off whoever it is.” She gave weight to her comment by starting toward wherever it waited.

  Even though Banshee didn’t immediately fall in step, Mia’s attention slid to the calf. The nearly white creature had reached its mother and was nosing the body. A thin bleating sound warred with the breeze and her pounding heart.

  Because it wouldn’t run off, she didn’t yet have to kill the sweet little thing. It could continue to live while she—

  Banshee barked. The sharp, deep cry slammed her nervous system. She followed Banshee’s stare. A large, lean four-legged form had left its dark hiding place and was heading into the open toward the two elk. For a moment Mia’s mind refused to process what she was seeing. Then she realized she’d spotted a dog. It was even more muscular than Banshee and maybe a foot taller with an oversized head and small, constantly moving ears. Ash-gray with a short coat, it made her think of a ghost. Like Banshee, the gray appeared to be in its prime.

  It barely acknowledged her existence.

  The four-legged stranger continued its slow, almost casual walk toward the still-unsuspecting calf. She wouldn’t be surprised if it weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. If it was feral, wouldn’t it appear undernourished? Instead, it was well-fed with a glossy coat and large, sharp white teeth. She clutched her weapon so tightly her fingers threatened to cramp. She couldn’t make herself aim.

  As if aware that she was trying to wrap her mind around its existence, the gray stopped and turned toward her. Human and canine gazes met. Banshee growled, but Mia couldn’t take her attention off the massive newcomer. It had to be her imagination. Just the same, she swore that intelligence rested behind the steady stare.

  Accept me, the gray seemed to be saying. Know I’m real.

  This was no runaway, no abandoned family pet. It was comfortable in its surroundings.

  After how long she didn’t know, the gray swung away from her and resumed its slow and deliberate stalk toward the calf. Much as she longed to warn the calf, she didn’t because the gray might soon do what she wasn’t sure she was capable of.

  Was it possible? Could the gray have insight into the calf’s bleak future?

  Even though a part of her protested what she was doing, she put the Glock away, again dug out her smart phone, and took a couple of pictures. She wasn’t sure what would show from this distance, but she needed proof of the gray’s existence if just for herself.

  The near-white calf jumped, whirled away from its mother’s body, and raced back toward the trees. For several seconds, the gray didn’t react. Then it gathered its legs, lowered its head and charged. All too soon it caught up with the calf and slammed into the weaker animal, knocking it to the ground.

  Before the calf could regain its footing, the gray closed its jaws around the calf’s muzzle and forced its head back toward its spine. Both creatures strained, struggled. One was determined to kill, the other desperate to live. Then Mia heard the elk’s neck snap.

  “No!” she sobbed even though it was what needed to happen. “Oh, no.”

  Banshee whimpered and pressed against her leg. The gray stood over the still-twitching body as if absorbing proof that it had accomplished its task. Her hands shaking, Mia took more pictures. Then, concerned that the shots wouldn’t show enough if she didn’t get closer, she again withdrew her weapon and forced herself to walk toward the dead calf and gray. Logic screamed at her to get the hell out of there, but it was as if the four-legged killer had stolen her will. Besides, she’d spent years isolated from most human beings, becoming brave in ways she seldom contemplated. Today her self-reliance sustained her.

  She tried to engage the smart phone’s zoom feature with one hand, but wasn’t sure she’d done it right. Having Banshee next to her helped, and now that the gray had accomplished its deadly task, it seemed unconcerned with what was going on around it. If she was as much a predator as it was, she wouldn’t be worried, either.

  She’d nearly convinced herself that some link existed between her and the gray when the creature backed away from its kill and faced the forest beyond the meadow. Banshee started growling again, a questioning, confused sound. As the gray exposed its fangs, she took two more pictures. Her gaze scraped over the gray, noted heavy balls between its legs.

  Another dog stepped into the sunlight. She had no way of knowing how long this one had been there. What she did perceive was that the big gray didn’t trust the newcomer.

  She’d been wrong to call the newcomer a dog. As it approached the gray, she wondered if she was looking at a wolf. It wasn’t as tall as the gray, but everything about it screamed predator. The gray had been confident, but the wolf was even more so. It glided more than walked and its fangs were larger.

  This creature wasn’t pure wolf. Like with Banshee, the animal was a mix. She couldn’t say what all was included in that mix and, right now, it didn’t matter.

  But later.

  Ignoring Banshee’s constant growl and determined to take more pictures, she recklessly closed some of the distance between herself and the wolf. Thank goodness for childhood lessons. Her shaking wasn’t as intense as it had been, but she was a long way from calm.

  This wasn’t like last spring when she’d come across a newborn fawn. The little one had been standing in the middle of her Noble firs. Instead of chasing it off so it wouldn’t nibble at the new growth, she’d let the baby’s glittering black eyes draw her in. It had cocked its head and flared its nostrils as if trying to make sense of this two-legged thing. While keeping an eye out for its protective and, potentially dangerous, mother, Mia had whispered sweet nothings. Obviously, Mama hadn’t had time to teach her newborn not to trust strangers. Mia had slowly approached. Instead of turning tail and running, the baby had started toward her.

  A cool, moist nose had touched her outstretched hand followed by a slurp with a wet, strong tongue. Mia hadn’t tried to blink back her tears as she’d thanked the gods of nature for this precious moment.

  Then she’d sensed a new presence. Still, she’d kept the connection with the fawn going longer than she should have before reluctantly stamping her foot and yelling.

  As the startled fawn scampered toward its mother, Mia had taken off in the opposite direction. The doe had glared and tossed her head, but fortunately hadn’t charged.

  There’d be no connection between her and the two canines today. A wrong move on the part of the gray or wolf and she’d be forced to kill them.

  Hoping she wouldn’t have to do that, she took more pictures. The wolf acknowledged her, but just barely. She was certain it saw the dead calf as food. The creature was a hunter, a killer.

  No, not a killer, a product of its genetics.

  Caution and logic screamed she should get the hell out of here, so why was she snapping shots of the wolf’s progress? In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing this so she could share the experience, but that wasn’t as important as recording the impossible, making it real for herself.

  The gray gave no indication of how it might react when the wolf got within reach. She sensed they knew each other. Changing her focus, she took several more pictures of the gray. Hopefully, the shots of both animals would come out. Maybe a vet or dog expert could shed some light on the nuance of their relationship.

  Only about ten feet remained between the two when the wolf drew back its lips and gave her a view of fangs designed for one thing. Much as she longed to prevent the calf from being torn apart, she would never dispute nature’s law. At least, thanks to what the gray had done, the calf wouldn�
�t be privy to its ultimate fate.

  A long growl from the gray forced her attention back to it. As the dog positioned itself between the wolf and the small carcass, she recorded the silent challenge. The wolf was built for battle, but the larger gray was refusing to give way. The two stared at each other. From this distance, she couldn’t read either animal’s expression but that didn’t stop the intensity from reaching her.

  The wolf was determined to feed. The gray was willing to risk its life to prevent that from happening. Either blood would be shed or one of them would give way.

  Long seconds passed. Finally, the wolf closed its mouth and backed away. The gray watched the other’s every move.

  When the wolf started toward the dead cow elk, Mia knew she’d just witnessed something vital, but beyond her comprehension.

  After reaching the cow, the wolf circled it while smelling every inch of the downed animal. It lingered at the sliced throat, making her wonder if she’d left her human scent in with that of blood. At length, the wolf made his peace with what his senses were telling him and shoved his muzzle between the elk’s hind legs. She didn’t need to see to know he was preparing to gut the dead animal.

  Instead of running the wolf off, the gray joined him. She took several long-distance shots of the two feeding off the fresh kill, re-sheathed her gun, and took hold of Banshee by his scruff.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. “Leave while they’re busy.”

  Banshee obviously had no objections to her suggestion. Even as she contemplated putting away her camera phone she fought the desire to stay and watch today play itself out.

  Maybe the gray and the wolf were part of a pack. More predators would join them and there’d be a feeding frenzy. She’d be performing a public service by letting area residents know what existed in the forest.

  The forest.

  A bull elk emerged from the shadows, heading toward the now-abandoned calf. Fresh disbelief gripped her, and the camera phone nearly slipped from her fingers. He was massive, with a rack so big she wondered if he had trouble holding up his head. He walked like the lord of the mountain would, every step firm and sure. The gray and wolf had stopped eating and were watching the potent animal.

  The snow-white animal.

  Not real. Even more impossible than the gray and wolf.

  A moan pressed against her lips as she forced herself to hold up the camera phone. She took a picture followed by another then another as the bull positioned himself over the pale, dead calf and lowered his great head. He licked the small, still face.

  “Oh my god,” Mia whispered as she took another picture. Her vision blurred.

  Order your copy here

  About the Author

  Vella Munn writes because the voices in her head demand it. She has had upward of 60 titles published both under her own name and several pen names. A dedicated hermit and shopping loather, she’s married with two sons and four grandchildren. She’s owned by two rescue dogs.

  Email: vellamunn@gmail.com

  Vella loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by Vella Munn

  Death Chant

  Feral Justice: Punish

  Feral Justice: Fangs