A wolf's hunger

Bahr felt the sting of the tooth marks in his shoulder. He cared more about the wound to his pride than he did about the marks beneath his fur, which he had cleaned and dried by rolling in the snow and leaves.

He had been merciful, allowing the shihah to keep her miserly bird when he could easily have taken it from her. Why should he bother with such a puny meal in any case? He was a wolf who demanded game and was used to eating fresh kill, not lowering himself to picking at carrion. He could catch and take down any animal of the forest if he chose to. Woe to any wolf who dared to eat before him or tried to hunt in his territory. He would strike them swift and sure and would kill if he needed to. He sang out a warning into the night.

“Know fear when you smell my name, for I am Bahr. I am a born killer of animals great and small. I will kill you if you venture too close. My jaws are strong, and my flanks are strong. I will catch you and bring death to you and your family.

“Know fear when you smell my name. I bring wrath, I am death to you who anger me.”

Bahr repeated the song as his call salved his wounded pride and made him forget the now healing wound in his shoulder. For he was a wolf of great pride. Strong, and arrogant, it was this pride that had driven him away from his pack.

These winters past, he had been his father’s flank as they chased all the game of the forest, his mother ranging over the far side, his younger siblings following to the rear. A great hunting formation, deadly and sure of its kill. The pack never went hungry, feeding many times each moon, gorging their fill.

For a long, warm, dreamy summer they chased and killed, feasting on warm entrails before dragging the carcass back to their secluded clearing, to devour meat and bone and hide at their leisure, until they were so full, they could barely move.

Killer or not, Bahr was always first to barf up half his stomach for the excited pups, who always shot out of their hideaway when the hunters returned.

“Bahr, Bahr, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Bahr,” they would shout, as he galloped up to see them. “Feed us, Bahr. Feed us, feed us, we are famished, and we must grow strong like you.”

The pups would yap and screech and nip at his forelegs and lick his muzzle and jump up at him, jump onto his back until, playfully, he would shake them off and grab them in his jaws and fling them away, one by one to return, nipping at his neck and muzzle.

“Feed us, feed us, feed us, Bahr. Bahr, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba, Bahr.”

Tiring of the game, Bahr brought up the food, the pups lapping and chewing at the sticky broth. Soon they would be tearing meat away from the bones of the kill but for now, they were content with the sloppy mess before them.

Bahr left them to their breakfast and padded over to where the middle siblings were tearing into the day’s kill. He had only to growl once, before they each backed off and settled themselves on their haunches, watching anxiously as he took his rightful share, savoring his pre-eminence as much as he enjoyed the meat, which he tore away and swallowed as his brothers and sisters relaxed in the shadows of the tall cedars. Glancing only once to his mother, as she strolled past, ready himself to back away from the carcass should she approach but she did not. Instead, his mother, his elfa, already replete from her gorging, turned away to find her own spot to lie and rest and dream, as she digested away another welcome meal.

Having refilled his own belly, Bahr too, went to find a spot to lie down, too full to want to walk far from the carcass, now being reduced to bare bones by his ravenous brothers and sisters. Approaching his mother, respectfully, with his head lowered, he came close enough to nuzzle her and lay his head on her shoulder. The elfa returned the gesture and he lapped at her ear.

He knew not to disturb his father, his ulfa, as he rested, weary from the chase and the heavy meal that followed. The ulfa lay aloof by the side of a fallen tree, enjoying the warmth of a pile of leaves blown there before the storm. His ears pricked up and he raised his snout a little as he noticed the approach of the eldest, the sole survivor of his batch, that first litter of pups, three summers past.

He smelt Bahr come closer, yes, but he could detect another scent too. Suspicious, he arose, up on all fours, and looked back to see Bahr nuzzling Elfa. In a single bound, despite his sleepiness, Ulfa was upon them, growling and raising an enormous and aggressive bark.

“Back, cur, stand back.”

Bahr had been surprised at the rebuff, for he was sure he had done nothing to incur his father’s wrath. Backing away from his elfa, and with Ulfa now standing between them, he lowered his eyes and his head, obedient and respectful, as a faithful son should be.

Ulfa continued to growl, low and menacing and began to step forward, toward the now cowering Bahr, who backed further away, his head bowed.

“Forgive me father, I meant no wrong. I am your faithful son, true and obedient. You are my ulfa and I am proud to be your flank.”

“Stay back, back,” was the only reply, growled through bared teeth. “Do not approach your elfa again.”

Bahr whined his assent, then backed and turned away and found a place furthest from his ulfa and elfa, further even than his siblings, to the accompaniment of a continued low growl from his father, Bahr’s pride deeply wounded. The siblings watched as he walked by, without comment. They dared say nothing in an exchange between their elders. They were unsure what to make of the exchange but were in no doubt about the outcome. Bahr, their beloved brother, had been put in his place and his place appeared for all the world to be furthest away from Ulfa and Elfa.

Bahr curled up and rested, not even looking up at the pups, who knew not to approach him after such an exchange.

The pack settled into a lazy afternoon and evening, the confrontation forgotten, until it was repeated the next day and the day after, until Bahr came to realize he was no longer the favored son. Resolving to re-assert himself before Ulfa, he approached in the night-time before the morning’s chase, head lowered in respect. But Ufla would have none of it, without hearing Bahr’s whined supplication, Ulfa leapt forward, jaws agape.

“Back, back, back, back, back.”

But when Bahr lowered his head still further, extending a paw forward and with a low conciliatory whine, his ulfa stretched forward and tore a piece off Bahr’s ear. It was the final insult and, without stopping to think, Bahr retaliated with a nip to his father’s extended jowl, hardly breaking the skin.

Bahr, leapt back, horrified at what he had done, his father shocked at the impudence of the young wolf. Bahr crouched, unsure what to do. Whether to stand his ground and defy his father, or to make off into the woods, sparing himself further humiliation. He looked up at his ulfa and saw true wrath in the eyes that met his. There was now no middle ground. He must either fight for his pride or flee for his life. Though strong, he could not hope to defeat his father, for he was still young, and he was no ulfa, not yet. Perhaps after another winter…

This was foolish and Bahr wanted nothing more than to placate his father, to offer his loyalty and his obedience, but he had crossed the line. Fool that he was, he had shown teeth to his ulfa which was unforgivable. There was no gesture he could make, no depth he could sink his head to that would allow his ulfa to accept the concession.

Ulfa stood, solid as an oak’s trunk, his head high, teeth bared, eyes afire. With a final yelp, Bahr turned and ran for the forest, knowing that he could never return. He did not look back and he did not howl his farewell. His family, shocked at the sudden turn of events, saw him leave in silence, Ulfa standing, emitting a low growl through bared teeth, daring anyone to speak. Even the fearless Elfa kept her peace as she watched her son, the last of her firstborn litter, leave her life forever. There was no regret, it was the truth of the forest, his time had come. She had shown him too much affection and Ulfa, in his wrath, would not stand for it. Elfa, though the only one who would dare question Ulfa, kept her silence, knowing that Ulfa was right and that it was her son who was wrong, whose impudence had caused such offence.

Bahr ran from the scene as fast as he could bound. He felt hurt at the rebuff, he felt regret at challenging Ulfa, but he knew that he was right not to back down completely. Then he knew why Ulfa had been angry for there could only be one ulfa. Already he felt the pain of separation, but he put the thought behind him. For now, he was alone in the forest, and he was in danger. How would he find food alone, without Ulfa to lead him? Again, he thought of his family with regret at the sudden separation.

Ceasing his mad run, he slowed to a steady lope and then stopped to catch his breath, looking about him for any signs of danger and for any signs of food, although he had eaten recently enough and was far from hungry. He started to think of what lay ahead of him, rather than what was behind. He stopped, looking back at the trail he had followed without thinking, telling himself that he was being cautious but, in truth, he was looking with regret at the path he could no longer use to retrace his steps back to his family. He was outcast forever.

Standing at the crest of a rounded hill, he raised his head to the skies and called out his name.

“Bahhhhhhhhrrrrrrr,” he called. “My name is Bahhhhhhrrrrrrrr. I am my father’s son.”

His ulfa made no reply, so he called his name again and again, invoking the names of Ulfa and Elfa. He called to the pups, and he challenged his other siblings to be strong like him, to be hunters, fearless of any game and loyal to their elfa and ulfa.

He heard his family reply, each with their own names, and each recalling his name.

“I will dream of you,” sang his elfa, “I will dream of you always, but I will never see you again. Never return for you are son no longer, you are alone in the forest and must feed yourself.”

Bahr howled and howled in the gathering dusk and called his name in defiance, hoping to hear his father’s reply but there was none until, eventually relenting, Ulfa sang back.

“Bahr, my son, I hear you, I hear your name. You are alone, now, in the forest. If you learn her ways, the forest will protect you and you will be strong. Live long and be strong my son, for I will see you no more.”

With this, the howling replies ceased, and Bahr was alone in the forest, singing his name to the clouds and to the sky. He who was alone, who was without family, who must kill and feed alone, if he was fast enough and was strong enough.

The days and nights that came and went saw Bahr walking, running, chasing but never catching food. He was fortunate that he had left his family with a full stomach because he had found no food for many days and the period of ravenous, driving hunger had begun.

Ever alert for any sign of game, Bahr pricked up his ears and thought he heard the sound of many hooves padding against the snow-covered forest floor. He stopped, scanning the forest with his ears, his snout raised to the scentscape. Moving his head from side to side, he was sure it was hooves he could hear but he could not pick up any scent trail.

Bahr turned in the direction of the sounds, controlling his movement and his pace so as not to give himself away. He didn’t head straight for the sound but, instead, moved around to one side, for the wind was blowing upon one ear and he needed the wind direction in his face so that he had the best chance of staying downwind of his quarry.

The chase was on. Starting with the measured pace and controlled gait of the stalking hunter, Bahr knew he must keep himself calm and not let the excitement take over. He was driven by hunger, but he must not allow himself to be ruled by it. Stopping, Bahr stood with legs slightly splayed as he took slow, deep breaths as his ulfa had taught him. He was his father’s son. As he stood there, sweat rising from his extended tongue, he saw in his mind a herd of deer hiding among dense trees. Within moments, having controlled his breathing and mastered his growing excitement, Bahr continued to stalk his prey, increasing the pace while carefully measuring his movements to minimize any noise.

As he loped on, the hunter at last picked up a trace of musky scent, instantly conjuring a shady image of deer before his eyes. He could see many deer and all moving in one direction, away from him. At that instant, the pang of hunger bit into his stomach, spurring him on. He picked up the pace.

Now firmly locked on the scent trail and occasionally stopping to listen for sounds of movement, Bahr was able to track the herd as he continued to make ground. Visual sighting from any distance was hard, as deer blended in so well with the surrounding vegetation and they made little sound as they moved. So that Bahr was not far from the herd when he was first able to see the creatures moving among the trees.

He stopped, laying down to rest and to keep his profile low. Peering above a ragged bush, he tried to find any that looked injured or sick, but they all looked healthy. He then picked out the smaller, younger animals as likely targets. He was in no hurry, as the herd was not moving, having found a sheltered spot where clumps of grass showed through the snow.

Bahr raised himself up to creep forward, the pace agonizingly slow, ready for the moment when his quarry should notice him and bolt, his muscles taut and ready to spring into action. Closer and closer he crept, ever closing the gap. Onward and onward by the slow, measured pace of the skilled hunter. It felt strange to be stalking alone, without his ulfa ahead of him, elfa to one side and his siblings behind. He felt alone and unsure of himself but the pain he felt deep in his stomach kept him moving forward towards his prey. Before his eyes, he could see the image of a broken animal, guts torn open and blood oozing into the ever-thirsty ground. He slavered and could taste the tender entrails as he continued to fix his eyes on a young deer. He tried to put the image aside and concentrate on the job in hand.

Without warning, one of the deer moved its head and looked directly at Bahr. In an instant it was gone, as the others bolted away. Leaping forward, Bahr was at a sprint in a single breath, flying like an arrow at the fawn he had spotted. But the deer were not running directly away from him, they leaped and hopped and changed direction, the jumbled patterns of their hides crisscrossing and interweaving in front of him. A larger deer leapt towards him, and he changed direction with a bound towards it, but it was too fast. Another passed the other side and he switched target again, before it disappeared behind another. Bahr again chose a target, then another, before the first came back into his field of vision and he returned to that target only to realize it was further away. Again, switching direction, he saw that that animal too was further away. Turning tail on himself a final time he understood, too late, that he was chasing too many animals at once and had allowed them all to escape. Slowing the pace, exhausted and panting he watched his food scatter into the forest, now invisible to his eyes though he could clearly hear the rumble of hooves making a rapid getaway.

As he slowed to a walk, the vision of the broken carcass disappeared, displaced by the agony of an empty stomach. Instead, he saw his father, proud Ulfa, looking at him. The vision impressed upon him the futility of the chase he had just lost, the failure to catch and kill, the foolishness of chasing so many scattering animals rather than fixing on one as Ulfa had taught him. He would pay for his mistake with days’ more hunger and the danger that the lack of food would weaken him so that he would not be fit enough to mount a chase.

Bahr missed his family, he missed Elfa and Ulfa and his siblings and he missed the pups. He thought of the pack hunting and feeding together and it gave an increased edge to the torturous hunger inside of him. The lack of food was beginning to overcome him. He raised his head to the sky, howling his pain. Howling to Mother Forest, he shrieked out his anguished plea.

“Elfa Forest, Elfa Forest, hear me.” He repeated the cry many times.

“Elfa Forest, Elfa Forest, feed me for I am weak, and I cannot hunt alone. I am lost without my family. I am lost without my elfa and ulfa to guide me in the chase.

“Elfa Forest, Elfa Forest hear my voice.”

As the howl echoed around the hills, the sky began to darken, the clouds rumbling. Bahr heard the words. He heard them in his head, as the clouds rumbled and clashed, a flash of lightning spreading over the sky.

“Feed yourself, whelp.”

Bahr let out a long, high shriek of a whine.”

“Feed yourself! Or lay down and let my forest feed on you.” The rumble of thunder passed as quickly as it had come.

Bahr, silent and still, lowered his head to the ground, front paws extended. He was calm now, in the gathering dust, as the raindrops began their pattering on the leaves around him. He was calm and his breathing was measured after the excitement of the chase, the disappointment of his failure to strike and to kill. He knew he must go on and he knew he must find food.

As night fell and the rain continued, warming, melting, and washing away the snow, Bahr continued the long walk, the long hunt, the endless search for food to fill his groaning, tortured, stomach.

* * * * *

Go back to part one: Outcast

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