As he walked on along the border of the thick shadowy-wood, he suddenly knew that he was no longer alone. “So, you still know who your master is and who it was that saved you years ago from certain death?”
The wolf whined in response to Dorian’s outstretched hand, quickly covering the distance between the two figures. The animal sat submissively and began panting with an expression of utter devotion. Dorian’s fingers luxuriously scratched out a pattern behind his ears and along his head. In Dorian’s presence the animal was completely tame and obedient. It knew instinctively who was the pack leader and the Alpha male. There was a type of kinship between the two. It was an instinctual understanding about the need for freedom, the thirst for new experiences, and the desire for fresh prey.
“Off you go. Time to enjoy these prime years of your life far away from the destructive hand of mankind. Better not to be tethered to one such as Sage Holdsworth, when there is so much more that awaits you in the green forest.”
With a flick of his wrist, Dorian dismissed the wolf and it ran off into the darkness. Dorian knew that whenever he walked the edge of the dark forest in the future, the beast could be summoned back to him with the ease of a low whistle. In the days that followed, whenever the wolf caught wind of his pack leader’s scent on the air, he would cover the ground quickly in order to be nearby. There he would lurk at the tangled edges of the forest in the blackness, in case he was ever to be summoned by the Master.
The wolf grew stronger and more confident as time passed in his new domain. He also grew more vicious, much more cunning, and more accustomed to the darkness in his new realm. He learned to avoid detection as he moved about the ancient woods. His first hunt was triggered by the scent of a young fawn that was separated from her mother.
The small, fallow fawn had wandered into a clearing deep in the forest. Its coat was chestnut with pale spots that ended in a white tale with a black stripe. It was only a few weeks old, but already the large eyes were cautious as it moved around on unsteady feet.
The wolf gradually stalked his prey, remaining completely unnoticed at first. While repeatedly tasting the air, the slim animal finally sensed the danger. The scent of the young fawn grew thick with fear. The wolf savored the anticipation, the energy of a young fawn’s life, and relished the moment when he finally leapt out and into the view of the budding fawn. It shook in terror and turned to run. It was all too easy for the wolf to overtake the young animal and enthusiastically sink his sharp teeth into her slender neck. With a twist of his jaws he broke the neck. As the hot blood rushed into his mouth, the wolf sank to the forest floor and began to devour his kill.
Several days passed as the wolf explored his growing territory. There was no competition for prey here, nor threat from any other large predators. Live food was a vast improvement over the cold, dull cutlets the wolf was used to receiving. He would never go back to that.
The next hunt brought the wolf upon a juvenile Red deer that was grazing peacefully in a pristine field. The hind was much larger. It was close to six feet in length and weighing near three-hundred pounds. Her hide was a reddish hue and she had a long tail. The doe was really quite beautiful as she grazed daintily among tall grasses and bushes. The wolf’s pulse quickened at her scent, and his mouth salivated when he caught sight of the delicate neck.
This time the hunt involved a great deal more sneaking and hiding behind shrubs and bushes. The adult female was much more observant and experienced. She caught wind of the attack much sooner which resulted in a large amount of running through the dark woods. This, too, was a new and exciting form of danger for the wolf. He toyed with his prey, closing in on her and then falling back to give the illusion of hope for escape. For what seemed like hours, he pursued the doe and then drew back. It was a dance between two lovers in the night, a most delicious game.
At last, as the doe’s heart began hammering to the point of ripping out of her chest, she became cornered against a massive cave wall. Though she was frantic with the need to escape, the wolf blocked her path to freedom and descended slowly. He was careful so as not to lose the opportunity to strike. He lashed out with sharp claws and greedy fangs, tasting her hot blood. Again and again he struck, prolonging the moment of the kill. At last, he used his sharp teeth to hamstring the animal. He leaped upon her back and used his weight to drive the thrashing animal to the ground. She was no longer able to run. He began devouring her while she was still alive at his feet.
The wolf grew bolder and increasingly unafraid of his surroundings. He was less wary of man, and more confident than ever in his newfound abilities. All of the night was his domain. He was king of the trees and the fields and the rivers. He even dared to enter the forbidden areas at the edges of the forest. There he stole unsuspecting young chickens and unwary female calves from the pathetic defenses and not-so-watchful eyes of their human protectors.
Dorian too, grew bolder in his exploration of the pleasures of the world. He became enamored with the thrill of his own hunt. It was not uncommon, to see him entertaining a different young lady every night. His territory was the various theatres and balls thrown across town. At any dinner party, he was always the center of attention for the young ladies. He charmed them easily with his exceptional looks and meticulous style. His growing popularity could be attributed to his unending confidence, mischievous wit, and copious wealth. He was playful and debonair, gallant and wicked—and the women loved him for it.
At a particularly large gala in the city, Lady Helena was introduced to not one—but two entirely different young ladies. Both were clearly infatuated with Mr. Gray’s charming good looks, gaudy and stylish displays of fortune, and blossoming popularity in society. They were both quite nubile and voluptuous.
The first was a comely blonde of some good standing. Her lips were full and pink, with startling blue eyes and a generous bust. She caught the attention of every young gentleman in attendance.
The second was a winsome brunette with the dark, deep eyes of a doe. She was visiting her family from their country estate and had developed her own following of admirers. She was the very image of feminine perfection, with perfectly proportioned curves and long, slender legs.
To Lady Helena however, they were too similar to tell apart. They even wore a similar shade of pink evening dress that was currently in favor. Neither of the long gowns left much to the imagination, given the tight fit and plunging necklines.
The evening became increasingly dangerous. Dorian would spend a few moments drinking a cocktail with one at the bar, then move near the dance floor and begin laughing audaciously with the other. He would carry on the conversation with that one for a few moments before switching back. It became clear that both girls thought themselves wholly the sole target of his affections. They were completely oblivious as Dorian repeatedly excused himself for one reason or another—in the most polite manner, of course. Both girls remained ignorant to the whispers and stares as Dorian whisked them in-turn across the elongated dance floor, in perfect time to the tune of the orchestra.
Lady Helena was amazed how ignorant the two were to the entire charade. Instead of seeing what was happening, the girls busied themselves by basking in the attention of the crowd. They misinterpreted the scrutiny as appreciation and jealousy. Lady Helena thought it all a tremendous comedy. She was quite accommodating in drawing one of them away as Dorian danced and flirted with the other.
Even the smirk on Lady Helena’s face did not clue them into the other girl’s presence until, at last, Dorian became increasingly bold and reckless for he was delighted to see what would happen, and how far he could push the envelope during the course of the evening. Finally, the blonde caught site of Dorian stealing a kiss from the brunette and stormed across the dance floor to pull him aside and express her outrage.
She had a genuine look of hurt in her dazzling eyes, as she dumped what remained of her drink on Dorian’s waistcoat. “How could you?”
Without any regard to his dampened
attire, he lied smoothly and convincingly in response. “My dear, it is nothing. A mere dalliance and an effect of the wine, I assure you. Come, let me take you home and make it up to you.”
She almost fell for the ploy. The promise of winning such a prize as Dorian Gray nearly overruling her better judgment. The conflict could be seen playing out behind her stunning blue eyes. The prospect was tempting, but she had suffered too much shame that evening. Her pride compelled her to storm out of the room. She paused briefly with a backward glance and a warning for the brunette—delivered with pouty and moistened lips. “You would do well to find better company, and acquaint yourself with a real gentleman rather than this philanderer. I didn’t believe the rumors about him, but now I see that they are altogether true. You would be wise to take heed of them as well.”
The vivacious brunette had the gleam of victory in her glittering eyes. She was certain that this rejected competitor was merely jealous of her beauty and the warning was disregarded as bitterness from such a stinging loss. Perhaps she had indulged in too much wine as well, for she thought the result her good fortune. She offered no resistance, as Dorian escorted her out of the hall and into a waiting hansom.
The entire scene was quickly recounted, time and time again, and the rumor of it spread like wildfire among the social elites. The tale only served to add to the mystery and notoriety already being spread about the remarkable Dorian Gray.
CHAPTER 10.
T
HE CHANGE
It was nearly dark. The wolf had been resting in his makeshift den, deep in the heart of Epping Forest. Gnawed bones and discarded antlers littered the surrounding ground. A nearby stream provided a ready supply of water. He had carefully marked all of the surrounding trees with his scent to ward off any intruders.
The wolf had grown in size and intelligence. So he had both the need and the means to dig out the small hollow where he now made his home. It was a safe spot and difficult to find, sheltered by mossy-green rocks and fallen tree trunks from the unpleasant rain and persistent cold. The wolf sat upright, while he used his powerful claws to move away large boulders and stones.
The paws that held the claws had become larger and more dexterous. The due claw was now separated and bending outwards while also growing longer. This allowed the wolf to grasp ahold of the variously-sized rocks and move them with surprising accuracy. With the bare earth exposed, the wolf used his powerful hind legs to dig out enough room for his enlarged shoulders and widened torso. These could fit comfortably inside while concealing his entire body from sight. Not that any animals were foolish enough to come close to the wolf’s den. He remembered when he had taken the territory from a large brown bear that had likely escaped from a nearby bear-baiting pit.
The large predator was covered in battle scars from dozens of fights with vicious Bulldogs which were starved until they were ravenous. The bear was strong and confident in his ability to defend his territory. As the wolf approached it, the enormous creature reared up on powerful hind legs. The bear must have weighed over a thousand pounds and was nearly nine feet in height. The wolf snarled his challenge and began to circle the large creature wearily. The bear was unimpressed. There was no scaring him off. This confrontation would be to the death.
As he began his assault, the wolf relied on his superior speed to keep the massive animal off balance. He lunged in to strike at the bear’s legs and stomach with claws and teeth, then dodged away as the massive paw descended in answer. The creature roared as the wolf bloodied it, frustrated that it could not strike the wolf in return. The wolf continued to attack until the enraged animal finally surged forward, falling onto all fours. In a burst of speed, the full bulk of the bear slammed into the wolf and sent him sprawling backwards.
The wolf had barely any time to recover before the bear’s claws raked across his back and side. The immense animal was too close to evade, so the wolf rose up on his hind legs. This gave his front claws the freedom to sink deep into the bear’s shoulders and neck. The bear rose up to his full height again and the two traded blows back and forth, dealing devastating injuries to each other.
The wolf was outmatched, but he refused to give up. Suddenly, the bear’s left leg buckled as the bloody ruin was no longer able to support the immense weight. The huge animal began to fall. In a burst of urgency, the wolf pushed sideways and narrowly avoiding being crushed beneath it. Seeing his chance, the wolf leapt onto the back of the bear and sunk his teeth into the muscular neck as deeply as possible. Blood poured out, but the wolf had not severed the artery. The bear wasn’t finished yet. Massive shoulders tried to roll the wolf off, as huge claws scored deep gashes in the wolf’s flanks. The bear rose from the ground and began thrashing in every direction in an attempt to throw the wolf off. To allow that would mean death for the wolf and so he clamped down with all his might. He desperately sunk all of his claws into the heavy hide. Gradually, the thrashing beneath him slowed. The bear tried to run but was dazed from blood loss and crashed into the surrounding trees and rocks. Finally, with a groan of anguish, the warrior bear sank to the ground and surrendered to the warm embrace of death.
It had taken many days for the grievous wounds inflicted by the bear to heal. He was unable to hunt and would surely have starved if not for the ready supply of meat that the gigantic carcass provided. Once he was healed, the wolf returned to hunting the smaller deer among the trees. Still tender from his scars, the wolf sometimes sought out easier prey. He was fast becoming an expert at killing the fat Suffolk sheep that lived in the small villages lining the outskirts of the forest.
The trick with the black-faced sheep was to approach the nervous animals slowly from downwind—ideally while they were sleeping. The wolf would leap over any small wooden fences that protected the flock. Then he would rush into the fleecy group while they were still unaware of his presence. It was best to kill a few as quickly as possible and carry one off. That way he could be gone before they set to their incessant bleating. Sometimes, the noises would alert a sheepdog that would rush in and begin barking his challenge to the vastly bigger wolf. The annoying animals were foolish to test the dominance of the wolf. He would quickly dispatch any dogs with a few swipes of his powerful claws, or by pinning the animal down and ripping out its throat. He had learned a painful lesson to flee, however, whenever the farmers themselves exited their homes. They would frequently brandish a Brunswick percussion rifle or Baker muzzle-loading rifle that the wolf had come to think of as a “fire stick.”
The first time he had been hit by one of the small lead balls, he had been feasting on several sheep in an enclosed field. He was gorging himself on their blood and innards, and so had missed the approach of the accursed farmer in the midnight darkness. The burning pain had hit the wolf, almost simultaneously as the flash of fire and terrifying smell of smoke registered to his senses. He had yelped loudly and instantly abandoned his kill to flee for the protection of the trees. Loud bangs had followed him on his flight and another of the terrible balls had grazed his ear as he leaped the final outer fence. The fire-ball had lodged itself deeply in the wolf’s shoulder. Pulling the vile object out with his claws proved even more painful than when it had struck him. He had licked the wound constantly and now knew to be more watchful. Since that day he had avoided man more carefully. Eventually, the lack of game in the forest caused the hunger to return and drove the wolf to enter the villages again.
It was pitch black as the wolf waited along the outskirts of the small village. He would rest here often, completely hidden as he listened to the oblivious men speak to each other. At this hour the men had long since gone to bed, but the danger of their fire-sticks was always present. If he made too much noise they would pour out of their homes like fire ants.
The wolf avoided all areas of light or movement and tested the air carefully before proceeding forward. The farmers had taken to hiding their livestock in the large barns at night. The wolf hated to approach so closely to any of the buildings, but
he could almost taste the blood of the animals inside. He would need to do this carefully. He approached the smallest of the buildings that was also the most isolated. The split-level barn smelled strongly of grain. Three of the walls were built from stone. The front wall, however, contained two large doors for a wagon to pass through and was made entirely from wood. That would be his way in.
As he approached, he caught a whiff of the large, four-legged animals that the men called “horses.” It was becoming easier to understand the men when they talked about the animals they labored to feed and protect. Lately, many of those words had begun to make sense to the wolf. It was different than when he interacted with the Master. That was more instinctual, more of the wordless communication between members of the pack. The sounds that the other men formed were difficult to separate and understand, but the wolf was learning.
The barn door was closed and barred by a heavy beam that had taken four men to put in place. Careful not to make a sound, the wolf grasped the mass of wood and lifted it clear. The action caused only soft scraping noises and a dull thump as he dropped the timber on the grassy ground. Then he silently lowered himself to all fours and nosed open the door. The wolf paused to listen. He heard the even breathing of a horse in the corner stall of the barn. He could smell no other creatures inside, save for a few small rats and the ever-present dung insects.
The wolf entered the barn as quietly as possible and padded across the hay-strewn floor. He began to stalk the chestnut-colored stallion that was asleep in the stall. It was a large animal, with powerful hooves and sharp teeth that the wolf had acutely learned to avoid. They were very difficult animals to take down when out in the open. Horses had often eluded him, detecting his scent and running away at a high speed. If he did get close to one it would lash out with tenacious defenses to deliver stunning bruises and deep lacerations—that the wolf remembered all too well. But this horse had nowhere to flee to and no warning of his approach.
Box Set: The Wolf of Dorian Gray Series: Books 1-3 Page 7