The winter winds howled, tossing the thin saplings back and forth over the landscape of white. What little autumn foliage was left was torn from the tree limbs was tossed, rolling over the landscape into an ivory abyss, mere specks of black against the stark brightness that encompassed the little valley.
Filth watched from the entrance of his den, shivering.
It was no longer snowing, which was a welcome relief from the past three days blizzard, but the fruits of winter's labor had already covered the ground with a thick layer of snow. Impossibly thick, even for Filth's own abnormally long legs. He'd tried earlier that day, to escape the cave, but he barely made it ten feet away before the cold hit him and his legs grew tired. He wouldn't be able to go far.
And he was hungry.
Filth growled, resting his muzzle on top of his paws and curling in on himself so his tail could brush over the tip of his nose, keep it warm. A little bit, at least.
Curse his parents. Curse them both! How was he, which such large limbs and ears, suppose to survive this sort of winter cold? Without food, without warmth, without the company or protection of his pack. Not even now, with the sun shining and the storm at an end, would he be able to travel through the cold, wetness of the snow to reach them. The frigid temperature would be unbearable. He'd be dead before he even reached the moors.
A whimper sounded behind him.
Filth flicked his ears upright and craned his neck.
From the shadows of the den came the wobbling figure of one of the cubs. Such a tiny little thing, really, thinning due to the last three days lack of food, but still carrying puppy fat that made his tummy large and round.
"Filth, we're hungry!" the youngling crooned, nudging himself against Filth's side. The creature burrowed beneath Filth's forelegs, curling around itself in attempt to keep warm, And cold!"
Filth lowered his head over the tiny, shivering body and sneered, You should have stayed with the others. You'll catch cold and die now."
The pup whimpered, but made no effort to extract himself, But I'm hungry, Filth, when will the pack be back?"
"When they get back, Filth replied, shutting his eyes to block out the sight of the white emptiness around them.
"Can you come back with us and keep us warm?"
Filth growled irritably but rose to his feet. He snatched the pup up gently with his teeth and trotted to the back of the den.
Three others were there, rolling balls of whimpering puppy fat, curled around each other for warmth and company. They snapped their eyes open as his approached, wagging their tiny puppy tails in greeting. Filth set the pup down and collapsed beside them, scowling. The cubs let out a series of gleeful barks and made their wriggling way towards him. They quickly found themselves the warmest spots on his body and lay down to continue to sleep out the cold.
Filthy little creatures. Filth wrinkled his nose at them, at their noses, their putrid puppy giggles and whimpers. Their complete lack of understanding their situation. Didn't they realize they were all going to die?
The pack should have been back days ago with food. But they weren't. And there were no echoing howls to warn Filth of their late coming arrival. There was nothing. They were dead. They had to be.
They were all going to die.
Filth rested his head on his paws, feeling the wiggling form of a puppy squirm beneath his neck, thankful for the new found warmth, and shut his eyes.
Another day passed, and night fall came, a thousand times colder than the morning.
It was maddening. Filth removed himself from the warmth of the wiggling pups and trotted back toward the entrance of the cave. The cold air blew in around him, causing his legs to shake and his ears to sting. The snow gleamed gaily from the reflection of the moon, casting an eerie white glow against the backdrop of blackness. There was no movement, not so much as the form of a snowshoe hare making its way across the field to find warmth in the qali of a tree. The snow nearly blocked the entire entrance of the den, making it nearly impossible to push through. Filth and the pups were effectively trapped inside.
But at least it was warming in here than out there.
Filth's gut twisted, sending sharp sparks of pain through his body. He let out a pitiful whimper and hung his head.
He was going to starve.
Behind him he heard the tell-tale sounds of whimpers from the pups, realizing their source of body heat had disappeared. There was a scrabbling of claws as they drew together to form their own mound of warmth.
Suddenly an idea struck him. Filth's eyes widened and he sucked in a gasp of painfully cold air. The look of surprise dwindled on his face only momentarily, before his eyes narrowed deviously and his thin, black lips curled themselves into a malicious grin.
Perhaps he would not starve after all.
.:.:.::.:.:.
The sun rose, greeting another morning, and Filth felt its rays against his thin fur, warming him. He cracked his eyes open to greet the dawn, rising to his feet with a pleasant stretch that forced the cricks out of his bones. The snow that blocked the entrance of the den had melted some, allowing him a better view of the valley. It was still as clear and desolate as the previous day, but Filth no longer felt it. His belly was full and warm and now he might be able to last until the snow melted enough to allow him passage.
Spring, he hoped, would come shortly.
Filth turned away from the entrance, trotting toward the back of the den where shredded hair and gathered pine needles were strewn, the makeshift nest of the pups that were no longer there. Filth collapsed against it, grinning to himself, and tucked his nose between his paws.
A howl broke the heavy silence, long and deep against the backdrop of winter stillness.
Filth's head snapped up.
"No."
What was he going to do now?
He shot to his feet and hurried to the entrance of the den, his eyes wide and ears perked, leaning forward over his brow.
There, on the horizon, five small, dark shapes made themselves present. They raced across the snow; single file and stepping in each others paw prints to conserve energy. His pack had returned. They had lived.
Filth turned and dashed back to the end of the den. What was he going to do? His long legs carried him back and forth before the dirt walls, his tail tucked nervously between his legs. They would know, they would know! He could not inform them off the truth, they would take no pity on him for devouring their children. He could not say the cubs starved, for if they did their bodies would be present.
What could he do?
"Filth!" the tell-tale sound of his alpha's voice echoed down the length of the den.
Biting his tongue, Filth turned away from the empty nest and trotted toward the entrance, his head low, his ears pinned, and his tail curled around his side. He may have been an efficient adviser, but his rank was low and his pack's respect for him even more so. Filth did not bother covering truths to steel the pain, even for himself.
"My liege "said Filth, dipping his maw as Heron, his alpha, pushed his way out of the snow and into the warmth of the den. The rest of the back followed shortly, rubbing maws and flanks with one another. Their bellies were fat with meat and Filth could smell the tantalizing scent of blood on their muzzles.
"Filth, said Heron again, touching noses momentarily with the smaller wolf, he recoiled quickly, a common reflex, I trust you and the pups have done well?"
It would be now or never. No other opportunity would allow him to pass on a working story.
Filth lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut, as if forcing back painful memories, I regret not, my liege ,he droned, The pups...starved, in your absence. There was little I could do. I attempted hunt-"
"Starved!" a female leapt forward, her hackles raised and her lips peeled back in a snarl, Youve let them die, you filthy beast, she wheeled on Heron, growling, I told you not to leave him with them. I told you you'd never see your pups again if you-"
"Silence!" Heron barked, lifting his tail. The female backed off, joining the ranks of her pack mates. They cast their eyes vicariously on Filth.
Filth shivered a little and kept his head down.
Heron held his gaze with the female momentarily before casting his attention back on Filth, The bodies?"
Filth praised him for his ability to keep his emotions in check. A valuable talent, as Filth himself had learned over the years. He cleared his throat a little, forcing his legs to feel the cold, to make his body shiver, Gone, my liege, a scavenger-"
"He's lying!"
"He's an incompetent fool, Heron, the pack's beta padded to Heron's side, a strong, sleet grey male who was nearly as large as Heron himself, And he's not to be trusted. Where are the pups?" the question was directed at Filth, forced between the clenched teeth of a growl.
Filth tucked his tail between his legs once again,"Dead,"he said, Their bodies were scavenged. In my despair I failed to hear the creature enter-"
Heron silenced him with a hefty growl and trotted forward. He pressed his muzzle against Filth's and inhaled deeply. The pack fell quiet behind them, muttered whispers passing from ear to ear. No one spoke loudly enough for Filth to hear, even with his enlarged ears.
"Filth, said Heron, and the pack ceased their gossip, You stink of blood, your belly is full, and our cubs are missing, Heron stepped back, craning his neck to peer around Filth's shivering, skinny form. Filth needed not to turn to know what he was looking at. The empty disheveled 'nest'.
His words sank into Filth's mind just as quickly as it did the rest of the pack. Filth's ears flicked upward and he backed away, shaking his head frantically, No, never my liege, I did what I could, I would never-."
The rowdy female leapt at him, her teeth gnashing the air before his face. Filth let out a startled yelp and jumped backward, his fur bristling all over his body. Heron approached, nudging the female forcefully out of his was. His head was lowered and his mouth wide and gaping. Filth stumbled backward until his felt the stone walls of the den press against his legs.
"My liege!" he crooned, I have done nothing!"
"Indeed, growled Heron, and he leapt.
Filth wasted no time and rushing out of the way, scampering toward the opposite wall. Heron's teeth clamped around his thigh and Filth let out a shrieking howl of pain. He twisted the limb out of Heron's mouth and hurried toward exit.
Toward the pack.
They raced forward and pounced, pushing him back into the darkness of the little cave, their teeth snapping at his face, his neck, his chest. They nipped his skin, never breaking it, but causing wells of pain to flare up where their teeth pinched his flesh. He felt Heron move behind him, his growls reverberating off the den walls.
The beta leapt at him, throwing him to his side and pinning him down with forelegs pressed against his throat. Filth coughed against the pressure, wriggling in attempt to free himself, to breath
They were going to kill him.
Heron loomed before him, his jaws lowering over his face, The bodies of our cubs will be returned to us, Filth, and you will be the one left for the scavengers."
Filth flicked his ears back and bared his teeth, They squealed when I devoured them. They begged me to take their siblings' lives before their own, he snapped his jaws, and the beta's paws dug into his throat. Filth inhaled a wheezing gasp and continued, And it is your fault they're dead, he managed a sickening grin.
Heron let out a snarl and thrust himself forward, clamping his jaws tightly around Filth's neck.
"Taking such a..."Filth gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, Such a long time to return to them."
Heron bit down, and Filth hissed at the sudden rush of pain. Blood welled up over his fur, sending thick clouds of scent into the air.
"You'll die without progeny."
Heron let go and drew back, before leaping forward and sinking his teeth into Filth's neck. He jerked back and the flesh split apart, tearing veins and throat to useless threads of flesh. Filth tried to let out a howl but no sound would come. He squirmed frantically, and the beta moved off of him, stepping away to watch him die.
Little pinpricks of black bloomed over his eyes, clouding his vision. Filth's squirming ceased and he could do nothing more than lie and attempt, fruitlessly, to such in air. He felt his heart thumping hard against his chest.
Thud-ud.
Thud-ud.
Thud-ud.
Thud...