Animal Vendetta

"BOY!"

Crap! Pa's in a bad mood. Since mama left, I'm his punching bag. I should run away and join mama.

"Boy, get dressed and git after that gray wolf scaring the chickens. Damn thing comes around every night, and I miss having eggs for breakfast."

"Are you coming with me, Pa?"

"Went hunting yesterday, boy. You're nineteen; grow a pair."

Once dressed for the cold, I grabbed my rifle off the wall. On the back porch, I tied on my snowshoes.

Heading down the path toward the woods, I followed wolf tracks on six inches of fresh snow covering a foot of slush.

I mumbled, "These paw prints are huge. I best keep my wits about me."

I tried to be vigilant, but my thoughts wandered to mama.

Since Pa was fired last year for drinking on the job, he's been a bastard. Beating mama with his belt was probably the last straw for her. What she said while I carried her suitcase to the car scared me.

"I'd take you with me, but he'd probably follow and kill us both. Bide your time and run when you can."

A branch snapped ahead of me, and I froze.

Silence.

Nothing moving.

"Damn, I need to focus."

By my watch, an hour had passed, but with the meandering trail and wearing snowshoes, I probably hadn't walked a mile yet.

I continued following the wolf tracks, and they veered onto a smaller path to the left. It was a tight squeeze, but I could push through them easily.

A small meadow opened up, maybe fifty feet across, with five paths branching off in different directions. I followed the wolf down the second trail to the right. A thicket of vines with small thorns filled the path, scratching my face and sticking to my jacket. My breathing was labored, and I was sweating. Pausing, I unzipped my outer coat and continued moving forward.

My heart was pounding.

Another clearing opened up, much smaller than the previous one, filled with odors I knew well lingering in the air. One was the smell of gunpowder and death, and the other was the foul smell of my father's chewing tobacco.

I shivered.

Before stepping into the opening, I chambered a round in my rifle with a shaking hand. Stepping into the clearing, I saw a dark, waist-high trail ahead, perfect size for wolves. To my right was a small, ground-level opening, and four dead wolf pups lay on the snow.

I bent down and touched one; it was frozen but hadn't been dead for more than 24 hours. Stuck to its side was a frozen blob of tobacco.

My Pa had killed these pups and sent me to kill their mother.

I was dead.

A wolf howled off to my right, less than 100 feet away. Then another one howled to my left, much closer. Crap, if I can hear two of them, there are probably more, a pack, maybe.

Always hungry.

Backtracking the way I came, my snowshoes and panic slowed me down

As I stepped into the clearing, three wolves blocked my way, snarling and snapping their jaws at me. Before I could even stop, something slammed into my back and sent me flying, landing face down. My rifle flew off to my right.

Tears poured down my cheeks, and I didn't move for a long time. As shadows on the ground moved in front of me, I wondered why I was still alive.

A gunshot made me jerk, and I tried to turn my head, but a low growl from behind was a warning. More time passed, and I continued sobbing while shivering from the cold.

A chorus of wolf howls came from the direction of home, and without thinking, I rolled over. No warning this time because I was alone, so I stood.

I was unharmed.

Forgetting my rifle, I followed my tracks to the path home. Stumbling out of the woods by the chicken coop, my father's body was the first thing I saw, covered with blood, lying on his back in the snow. His eyes were open, his throat ripped out, and chunks of his clothes and flesh had been torn out and dropped on the snow.

Making a quick decision, I gingerly fished his truck keys from his pocket while looking away from the carnage. My final action before leaving was opening the chicken coop's chain-link gate, payment for my life.

A wolf's howl tore through the air.