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lordragoon
Next to me, the coyote alpha hacked up a stone he had been chewing on. That's a great way to be brought out of a contemplative mood. "Do you see any prey?"
I let my eyes close, my other senses take over. The smell of the coyote, almost solid, was the first scent I could sense. I let the scent flow over me, then grew accustomed to it. The feeling of wind over fur slowed then stopped. The sound of crickets chirpping likewise died. Other scents, tastes in the air, rushed around me. Cattle far to the north, a river nearby, the everpresent taste of car exhuast, all poured over me.
There, to the west. A prey animal, the scent of fresh chewed grass and of musk to heavy to be cattle. Deer, I thought as I opened my eyes. "You smell it, right?"
The coyote dropped to his haunches, his head lifted to face the night sky. A loud howl echoed off his tongue, calling his pack to the hunt. I took a running jump off the ridge, the coyote landing beside me. Behind us, seven others, long fur flowing in the strong wind, followed. We took a long path, the wind always blowing in our faces, bringing the scent of the prey closer. The panting of our lungs and the patting of our pawpads against the dirt were the only ticking of the world's time.
It wasn't long before the herd was in our sight, a group of deer, their tails down. Most of the herd was asleep, a few at the sides partly awake. I twitched my tail, motioning for the coyotes to stop. They glanced at the nearest animal then turned and crept behind a ravine, crouching with their tails against the ground.
The coyote closest to me, a large female, wheezed, motioning a few words. They're too big, she insisted, too many. These animals were too large for a normal coyote pack to take down.
I struggled back a laugh, signaling a pair of words. That one. I pointed at one of the smaller deer, an old one. He was asleep. A complex pattern of scars were drawn around his left leg, held a little lower than its right. Even though he was still more than twice the size of one of the coyotes, he was easier game than most of the rest.
The coyote alpha glared at him, then did the wolf equivalent of a nod. I let the muscles in my legs coil, preparing for a single, powerful leap. The feel of the hunt took over me. A single leap, a flurry of movement as the coyotes followed and the deer began to scatter. The prey woke; began moving, a moment too late for him. I landed against his side, knocking him against the ground. It tried to pull up, to use its legs against me. I kept him on the ground, rolling a cloud of dust into the wind. The next few moments were a flash of fur and dirt as we struggled to keep each other from our goals: mine to use my fangs, his to escape.
It ended as I rolled him onto his back and put my legs over his chest. The deer snorted in terror, panic wild in lusterless animal eyes. Then the full effect of my choices hit me. The scent of fear and pain in the air, the feeling of a pulse pounding under my paws, it all hit my brain, forcing the animal hunt mode out and the human back to the forefront. I fought the urge to vomit, to let the human take over. My skin itched, my fur stood on end, my eyes burnt. I could taste the pain and fear the animal felt. It overran my mind.
I froze.
This was why I left the wild. I could never become animal again, not totally. There was no place for me in the wild, an animal who couldn't kill. Neither wolf nor tiger could survive without having blood on their fangs. I couldn't overrun this curse of humanity. I thought too much. My emotions would fight me.
I struggled with my emotions. Trying to finish what I had started, I stared into the eyes of the animal I was going to kill. My jaws clicked together as I tried to bite, fighting my own strength, my own mind.
"Let me help, human," the coyote alpha muttered, running his fangs over the deer's neck.
A fleshy sound as teeth ripped into soft throat flesh. I dropped back as blood poured over deer fur, my paws. The coyote alpha pulled his fangs from the deer's neck. I fought to keep my paws from turning into hands and my spine from cracking out. Then, in front of me, the deer's bleeding slowed, its eyes clouding over.
The human part of me let go. The death was finished. It pulled into the back of my mind and closed its eyes as I let the hunger I felt take over me. It only took a few minutes for a wolf and eight coyotes to finish eating. Then we ran back to the ridge, the coyotes leading me back. I didn't let myself think about anything. Instead, I just ran, and tried to forget.
Soon, we were back at the ridge, back where we had started. I stood, watching the stars burn their way through the night. My head hurt. "You called me garo?"
The coyote picked himself off the ground. "It is true, correct?"
Garo is one of the three wolf words that mean human. But it isn't the same. Garo means something more. It signifies human technology, the stink of fresh washed skin, the taste of human fear, the actions of one hunting. It was about human traits, human actions. It wasn't a nice word; it was like the human slang for a female dog. It was a obsceneity, not something you said to another wolf's face without starting a fight. "In a way, it's true. How could you tell?"
"We coyotes are not as stupid as you like to think. We can tell. You smell garo, you act garo, you think wolf. What happened to you?"
I sighed. I could never return to the world of the wolf, if it was so easy for these coyotes to tell.
I hated being different. I held my left forepaw up, watching the black pads shake in the air.
"I was given a chance to see life from the eyes of the garo. It took too much of me."
"So... you are a changed?"
I shrugged, a human trait. "I am a changer. Now I am cursed to be a wolf that is too garo, or a human who is never totally human."
"That's why you didn't finish the deer?" the coyote whined. I nodded. He understood the meaning, even though shaking a head yes is a human habit. "How did it happen?"
I put my paw down and shrugged again. "There is no way to explain it. There was blood, and pain. I began the hunt as a wolf, ended it as a human with two wounds that should have killed me."
He snorted, blowing a light cloud of dust up. Then there was a flash of grey fur, a blast of wind, a sharp pain, and suddenly my vision was filled with two canine eyes. The coyote glared at me, his left paw on top of my right, sharp claws digging through fur, skin. A river of blood dripped down my paw. I kept my eyes on the alpha's, fighting instinct that told me that a stare would cause a fight. The wolf mind pulled at me, warning me that I was going to get killed. I fought it, nailing my gaze to the two black circles hovering in front of me.
"You have put the pack in danger, and lied to us, garo. Worst of all, you have not acted of the coyote. From the first time we saw you, we knew you weren't one of us in body. Your actions this hunt prove that you're not of the coyote in mind."
He pushed down with his claws, another jab of pain slitting through my mind. A pool of mud settled under my footpad, red to a human's eyes. He kept his stare fixed on me.
It was a challenge by the alpha of a pack. To a human, it was simply a staring contest, but to the wolf, it was nowhere as simple. This contest pulled at the instincts of the wolf; it was a test of willpower. If I dropped my gaze, pulled my paw out, or drew blood, I would never be allowed on the pack's grounds again, on pain of death. If he did, I would be the alpha, and would choose what to do to him.
I could just give up. It wasn't like was going to stay here long; I had to leave by dawn, and even if I didn't, the coyotes knew I wasn't one of them. But some part of me wouldn't let me back down from a fight. This pride wasn't new for me. I had gotten in trouble because of it before. A pair of gunshot wounds and more scars than I wanted to admit or even count were enough proof. I never backed down.
He pushed down again, a blaze of pain coming up. The contest was like chicken to the one challenged - if one of us didn't end it soon, I'd lose the paw. There was nothing else to do.
I pulled my left paw into the air, struggling not to lose my balance while I was staring straight to the front. A graceless pull, pushing my back paws against the ground while I swung my left paw to the side. I couldn't draw blood, or else I would lose. I wouldn't let myself lose.
I turned my paw as I hit the coyote. He moved to block the slow, punchlike attack, but he did so with his left paw. The movement pulled his claws out of my skin with a sickening wet sound. The blood flowed, the pool spreading.
The coyote picked himself back up, brushing dust off his coat. "Nice trick, garo wolf." He glanced at the blood pooling under my paw. "Garo wins." I kept my head up, but closed my eyes. The migraine that had begun during the hunt had gotten worse with the challenge. By the time I opened my eyes again, the alpha coyote had tucked his tail under his legs, keeping his gaze down and his stance submissive. "You're the pack's alpha now."
I shook my head. "I'm a wanderer, not one of your pack; I'm not even of the coyote... I don't want to be alpha. I'll leave at first light tomorrow."
The coyote brought his eyes back up. "What about me?"
"I don't want any more blood on my paws. You acted by the law, not out of anger; you did nothing wrong." I began to lick the back of my paw. The cuts had already scabbed over, but the muscles would take longer to heal.
He let his tail back up, the old basic assurance back in his stance. "Thank you." I stared deep into the night sky. He turned to enter his den. "I have one question for you. Why didn't you finish the hunt?"
I sighed, brushing part of a scab from my paw. "There are those among the changed who don't think before they take life. Humans... garo... say that the garo was lost. The truth is that they lose the wolf. They let themselves kill, and keep killing, every life taken making the next death that much easier. I fear that I will fall down that pit. A single death is all that I need to start falling. I won't let myself become a murderer. I know the pain I'm causing the prey. I can feel it, taste it. I hate causing that pain, but I know that the wolf has to. Part of me fights me when I am close to a life ended."
The coyote grinned, or at least brought the corners of his mouth up and showed his fangs. "There is more to you than you let see moonlight. You may not be of the coyote, but you are certainly of the wolf."
"I've got a question for you, then. Why did you let me win?"
He snorted, beginning to laugh like a wolf. "You've won the challenge, so you have the right to come back here whenever you want. To be honest, the pack wouldn't mind. We need all the help we can get." I turned from the night sky to face him. "The first law of the wolf is to do nothing that will endanger the pack. I follow the law. Now, get some rest. You said you wanted to leave early tomorrow, wanderer." I turned and walked toward the den. The coyote pawed the ground again, thinking. "What drives you, wolf who is not wolf?" the alpha asked. "Why do you wander?" I stood still, looking into the darkness of the cave in front of me, silent. "What do you look for?"
"I go into the places where no other wolf treads and no moonlight falls. I've got the scars to prove it. As for what I search for... I'm looking for something that can't be seen by human eyes or by coyote nose."
"If it can't be seen, how do you know it exists?" the alpha whined.
"Because I plan to make it." Before he could ask any more quiestions, I walked past him and curled up in the den. Unlike all of the coyotes, I didn't bother to circle before hand.
I reminded myself to take off my socks next time I changed. The shoes were salvagable, and I always wore baggy shorts, but the socks were shredded. I was glad I brought a spare shirt. Driving a car in a bloodstained white t-shirt would raise many questions that I didn't want to answer. I had left the pack before dawn, before the coyotes woke. I hated goodbyes, and I didn't want to be tempted into staying another day. My keys and my dagger were in the glove compartment where I had left them. I pulled the keys out and stabbed them into the ignition. My right hand was still a little sore, four scars slowly fading. Outside, a coyote howled. Not goodbye, not hello. Neither victory or loss. Not garo, not wolf. It was a simple word, but there is no human equivilant.
Hunt well, search well, come back.