Of Wolf and Man

"One last, grand, forest still stands tall, just waiting to be explored. Stretching farther than any landmass known to man, and nurturing an uncountable amount of creatures. These denizens of the forest, the ones hidden from humanity, rage their own war within, praying that they don’t disappear into the myths. But of course one group only wishes the past to stay in its place, to be forever forgotten- to be forever, extinct…"

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1. Prologue.

 

 

 

 

Of Wolf and Man

 

By

Marcus Ramirez

 

 

 Volume 1:

The Red-Eyed, Snow-Colored Wolf.

 

 

Prologue,

 

 

            As centuries and decades eroded the earth, many secrets were kept hidden away. Man has a tendency to forget, or change history, disregarding the truth. And as Cities and towns flourished, little is left of the forest; the forest, which is the grand beholder of these mysteries, even to this day. Rumors or myths may spawn from this place of wonder, but few know the truth.

            One last, grand, forest still stands tall, just waiting to be explored. Stretching farther than any landmass known to man, and nurturing an uncountable amount of creatures. These denizens of the forest, the ones hidden from humanity, rage their own war within, praying that they don’t disappear into the myths. But of course one group only wishes the past to stay in its place, to be forever forgotten- to be forever, extinct…

 

 

The icy cold winds, and the white wonderland of snow, are the clear signs of winter undergoing. The vacant land and completely bare trees make this desolate place even more barren. This scene alone speaks of emptiness, loneliness, and solitude; but can even show tranquility, peacefulness, and sanctity. All these reasons alone can tell you the power of just a small part of the grand forest.

But there is one prudent blemish, in an otherwise perfect moment. Through all the pure white, the red-hot stain of blood pulls at the eyes, and tarnishes the forest. Now, there is always blood split in such a land, but this occurrence was done from pure hatred.

One burly man, dressed in black attire, stands proudly over his hunted prey, cultivating over his fresh kill. From the ravished snow, to the splattered blood, signs of struggle can be seen everywhere. The hunter cleans his bowie knife from any muck, and sheaths his blade. The lifeless wolf is packed away into a burlap sack by the man, and hauled over his back.

A single and simple ringtone interrupts the dead-silent air, causing the man to struggle for his phone from his pocket. He flips it open, speaking with little to no breath into the receiver, “H…hello?” Another voice responds, with a dark, undertone feel, “I’m assuming you caught the scouts?”

“Y-yes, but we lost a few men back.”

“Who is left?”

Silence enters, leaving only white noise to be heard. The hunter takes a breath, speaking with despair, “Just me, Sir. I’m sorry…there was too many to handle.”

“But all of the prey is disposed of, right?” The man on the receiver continued his tone, never changing the expression in his words.

“I can’t say for sure, one may have escaped…”

There was a slight disruption in the man’s voice, “You!” A slight pause, allowing him to recollect himself, “You understand if that abomination makes it back to his clan, they will move their homestead once again, do you not?”

“I know Sir, I do, but with so much confusion, it was hard to tell what was going on. All I need is-“

“Are you sure he ran away?”

“W-what?! Yes, of course. Why would you-”

“Hmm, goodbye.”

“Sir, wait!” But the cold, eerie, silence of the call hanging up was all that could be heard. The once proud hunter, was now in shambles, as he turned left and right in panic; dropping the carcass of the wolf.  He pulled out his pistol, only to find that he had no more ammo. With quick reaction, the hunter pulled out his knife, reading himself for what might lie out there.

There was no noise, or disturbances, so the hunter began to laugh at his loss of insanity. He put his knife away once again, and made a swift 180 turn, only to spot floating red-eyes, burning at him with pain. He rubbed his own eyes to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but as it seems, there was a beholder of those eyes blended in beautifully with its surroundings.

This, Red-eyed, Snow-Colored wolf snarled its massive and intimidating fangs, but the man made no rebuttal, for he was stunned by shock. The wolf took no mercy, and went for the kill, lunging and ripping the hunter’s throat out clean. Blood sprayed around like a sprinkler, coating the wolf and the forest in gore. The hunter struggled for his life, swaying around like a mad-man, bleeding out furiously. He tried to get one last glimpse of his killer, but nothing was left to be seen; neither of the wolves remained, and the forest laid quiet once again, just as it should be. 

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