Shadow woke. From the distant hills a howl rose, then another. Not twin voices bringing news through their harmonics, but desperate cries of warning. The air was dry and the wind had died – perfect weather for stealth and speed. Perfect weather to fly through field and wood on paws quiet as the moon.
Soon more howls could be heard, these more intelligible. “...the sandy stream...” “Can smell them close!” “...them—”. All cut short. By Them? Shadow slowed, his running more measured.
What they were, exactly, Shadow could not say. As a Wanderer, he likely knew more than most. Still, all anyone truly knew was that They were coming. First strange Wanderers had come, breathless and urgent with warnings of an invisible threat. These Wanderers stayed long enough to confer in their hushed whimpers and learn that there were no clans left to tell. Then most disappeared – some back towards Them, others into the untramped wilds.
Even before the Wanderers left, Hunters and Fosters, pups and elders began slinking into Shadow’s homeland. Facts got confused. Were They black as midnight or bright as the snows under a clear noon? Did Their claws drip death? Did They have claws, or were They the great emptiness?
Shadow heard the muffled mewling of younglings nearby, and slid under the heavy boughs of an old yew. The three younglings were familiar – not long ago they had been pups wrestling in the dirt. Now, they were lean, with bright summer coats and brighter eyes. One had shown an early aptitude towards the life of a Wanderer, and quickly began scenting the air. “Scented me already”, Shadow thought with vicarious pride. But no, “I’ve not been upwind of them yet.”
An unfamiliar scent crept under the yew, followed by a clattering of branches throughout the woods. The Wanderer in Shadow shot through his body like cracking ice. Breathing slowed while senses quickened, and under the spreading yew naught could be seen save an occasional flash of a blinking eye.
The younglings circled each other in terror. Then, with the suddenness of thunder, the meadow and woods turned dark. When the darkness cleared an instant later, the younglings were gone. No sight, no sound, just their fading scent. All Shadow remembered was an instant of jagged dark shapes and bright white wisps.
Long after the distant howls had ceased, Shadow slunk from under the yew and circled into the meadow. There was no sign the younglings had bolted, though nor was their sign of fur or blood. Likewise, no sign of Them was left, save for an occasional scent of something strange.
Shadow slipped back into the woods and picked a way towards the untramped wilds. If the way there were clear, these wilds should be safe for a Wanderer to traverse, though beyond lay the greater unknown. With nothing to guide but age-old legends and a Wanderer’s skills, Shadow set out to break an ancient pact.
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Submission Name: Shadow's Tale
