Melokai (ITHOTM Book 1)

Chapter 5 Darrio

5

DARRIO

It was a gloriously sunny day, although very cold. Crisp. Darrio trotted behind the pack over a light snowfall, through the glades. Every now and then moving from cooler shade into the bright sunshine and enjoying the sudden warmth on his fur.

The two alpha wolves were in front – Arro the fierce, male breeder and Lurra his mated female, just as ferocious but with a kind heart. Darrio made a point of thanking her every day, for without Lurra’s generosity, he and his three pups would be long dead. He had been adopted into the Wulhor-Aaen pack around four seasons ago and his pups were strong because of Lurra’s milk.

He knew that adoption of an adult wolf into an established pack was extremely rare and that he and his pups risked being ripped apart by their own kind, but he’d had no other choice. In utter desperation Darrio had skulked into the Wulhor-Aaen pack’s den, a narrow fissure in weathered rock that opened into a large, high ceilinged cave. It was hidden by heavy undergrowth but the scavenger magpies and ravens squawking at the entrance, drawn by the smell of rotting carcasses within, signposted the way. He carried his body low to the ground on all fours, with his fur flattened, ears lowered and tail between his legs. His pups, barely a few days old and still blind and deaf were bundled in the skin of a deer, that he carried by his teeth.

He remembered how the dominant breeding pair lay in their cosy, dark den’s resting area, next to the tattered remains of their last kill. To either side were their children. Pups from that year’s litter as well as young wolves one to three year’s old. Their older children had left to form packs of their own. As Darrio crept towards the couple, the intimidating grumbles and snapping jaws of the beta wolves convinced him this would be his last day under the sun. As he approached, Arro unfurled to his full height on his two back paws, his black hackles raised and eyes aglow whilst Lurra sat on her hind legs, staring at Darrio with mouth open, ears forward and nose wrinkled.

Darrio had dropped the bundle and whispered, “Please. Am packless. Have three pups in need of suckling. Please adopt me and pups. If no need of me, I beg you take my pups as your own.”

Arro dropped down to all fours and had taken Darrio’s muzzle in his jaws. Darrio hunkered down further, dropping his ears as low as they would go and turning his eyes to the ground. To show any aggression would be certain death.

“Why, stupid wolf, would we do that?” Lurra had asked. She was missing a chunk of her top lip which exposed her right fang and the gum above, adding to her formidable presence. She took her time to get to her feet, raising tail high and preparing to spill blood.

“One pup is female… she stands.” Darrio struggled to speak as Arro still had his snout between his teeth. Darrio knew that this was his one chance, to intrigue them and at the very least they would keep his female child, Sarrya.

“A standing female? No such thing exists. You lie.” Lurra leapt forward and snatched open the deer skin.

The pups spilled on the ground and whined pathetically, all three were starving and in desperate need of a mother’s milk. She shoved Darrio out of the way and sniffed at the pups. She identified Sarrya and licked her chest to make the pup wriggle her legs.

Lurra barked and leaned back, startled that Sarrya had stretched her forelegs as the males did and had their wider back paws. She shook her head and then came near again, nudging Sarrya onto her back for a closer inspection.

“It is true. A standing female. Never heard of such a thing. Never seen such a thing.” Lurra glanced up at Arro in amazement, who let go of Darrio’s snout to look for himself.

The male alpha had approached the pups and Darrio’s eldest, Harro, started to wail and whimper, helplessly rocking his tiny, pink head. Darrio moved to go to comfort him but Arro stood between them. The distress of their brother set off Warrio and then Sarrya herself started up, all three crying with hunger, begging for some nourishment.

“Shut up!” Arro exploded over the din.

Darrio had silently said goodbye to his pups at that moment, willing them to understand that he had tried to do right by them, to try to be the best father after their mother had left. Saying sorry under his breath that he had brought them here to be ripped apart by other wolves and thinking that dying from starvation would have been a better way to go. He hoped that the alpha pair would kill him first so that he wouldn’t have to watch the death of his beloved pups. He had closed his eyes and waited for the mauling.

When it didn’t come, he dared to peek. Lurra had flopped down on her side exposing her belly to the pups. She used her paw to bring them closer, guiding their tiny little mouths to her swollen teats. By instinct, Harro latched on first and the other two followed him. They guzzled contentedly, white froth around their little lips.

Arro stared at Lurra and said, “You are sure, mate?”

Lurra gazed down at the pups suckling and nodded. “If father submits, we keep him too. Want to know everything about the special female.”

Darrio had gladly taken the lowest position in the pack as omega, below the beta wolves who were still pups, to secure his life and that of his offspring. Arro and Lurra knew, as did their children, that he was more than a subordinate and should have a pack of his own, but he never attempted to elevate his status or compete with Arro for breeding rights. His pups were safe, that was all that mattered.

Now, a year later, they were fit and healthy. All had his colouring, a rich brown, although Sarrya had creamy fur around her head and between her shoulders and rare orange eyes. Beautiful. Apart from Arro who was black, the rest of the pack was grey or mottled grey and black. It still surprised him to see Sarrya stand tall on her two back paws with the males and not stay on all fours like every other female wolf. Lurra was proud of her and did not deny the rumours that circulated around the neighbouring wolf packs across the Zwullfr mountains that Sarrya was her child.

Darrio was determined that the truth of his pups’ parentage would never come to light. He repeated the same story to his pups and the alphas, which had been accepted. He had lost his pack to the madness disease, watching them all catch a fever and then convulse, be fearful of water and refuse to drink, slipping into unconsciousness before dying. He was the only wolf not to catch the devastating illness, surviving to wander on his own. This much was true. Darrio then told a lie, repeated so often that he almost believed it himself. That he had stumbled upon a lone female wolf who had lost her pack to the same ailment. They had mated with the ambition to form a new pack but then she had died in whelping. Knowing he could not provide milk for his pups, Darrio had determined to find another pack to adopt them and the Wulhor-Aaen pack had been the first he had scented. And now here they were.

As he jogged under the snow-blanketed canopy, he stole a glance back at the yearlings behind him. His three loped along with two sons of Arro and Lurra. They were not old enough to join in the hunt but able to keep up with the pack and to watch it from afar, learning techniques that they would one day put into practice themselves. Sarrya ran close to Arro and Lurra’s son Ricarro. Born in the same season, the pair were inseparable. It was assumed that once these two had matured in the next year or two, they would be mated and form their own pack as the alpha breeding pair. The thought pleased him. Perhaps they would produce more standing females, Sarrya being the first, and establish a new age for wolves.

Warrio and Harro were jumping on each other and play fighting as they kept up with the rest of the pack. Full of energy and with well-defined human features. This detail Darrio kept to himself and hoped that no other wolf noticed. Warrio spotted his father looking and sprinted to catch up to him.

“Pappy! You run like an old wolf.” Warrio nudged Darrio’s nose with his own.

“You still have pup fluff on your chest,” Darrio said and in a swift movement he stuck out his back leg tripping Warrio headfirst into the undergrowth. “You run like a suckling newborn unsteady on his paws.” Darrio laughed as his youngest son righted himself and leapt onto his father. They rolled around clamping each other’s jaws. Harro joined the fray and all three tussled, licked at faces and tried to nip each other’s muzzles.

“Ugh, Pa, don’t encourage. Stop being so embarrassing,” Sarrya groaned, rolling her eyes with snout to one side.

“C’mon, sis! Help us pin down Pa!” Harro shouted and grabbed at her front paw to try to bring her into the game, but she pulled it away with a huff and a shake of her head.

Determined female, thought Darrio and a fleeting memory of her mother came to his mind.

Arro’s howl brought them to attention. The hunting pack assembled in a ceremonial circle, nose to nose and wagging their tails. Each was on all four legs and Lurra gave orders about the prey that had been scented, a lame deer that was lagging behind its herd, and her plan for attack.

“Children, stay low, silent and out the way,” she told the young wolves. “Watch. Listen. Arro test you on return to the den.”

The younger wolves, including Darrio’s three, dropped their heads to show they understood.

Arro, Lurra, the three beta wolves Marro, Zirrio and Herra, plus Darrio, spaced out and edged forward, noses to the forest floor to pick up the scent. Zirrio found it, standing alert and pointing his nose and ears towards the target. The hunters stalked along after Zirrio, picking up their pace as they drew closer and the scent intensified.

The lame deer stood apart from the herd, and the wolves positioned themselves around it, twitching their tails as they crept forward. Lurra gave the signal and rushed at the animal. Its innate response was to flee towards the other deer who, sensing the danger, also started to run. The six wolves gave chase. Darrio, Arro and Herra forced their way between the lame deer and the safety of its herd, isolating it. It bolted away from its kind, and straight into Lurra, Zirrio and Marro. It saw them and lurched again, running down a slope and towards the river.

This was not what the wolves wanted. The deer picked up pace on the downhill, dragging the bad leg. The pack’s territorial boundary ended at the bank and across the river was the Lost Lands. Darrio picked up speed and overtook the deer, aiming to get to the river bank first and force it to turn left or right, rather than enter the water and attempt to cross. Herra followed behind him whilst the others trailed the deer’s path.

Darrio’s plan didn’t work as the deer bounced left and then bounded straight into a shallow part of the river, breaking the thin ice and plopping through into the flowing water. It swam across and heaved itself out on the other bank. The pack pursued at full speed, the thrill of the chase and desire to catch their prey overshadowing any thoughts of venturing into the Lost Lands. The pack hadn’t eaten properly in days, their last two kill attempts failing and then no prey scented on their patch.

“Turned into a long chase,” Arro shouted. “Pace yourselves, save energy for kill. Don’t let dinner get away!”

Darrio winced as he dropped into the icy water. Deer not as lame as hoped.

As the wolves heaved themselves out of the river and sprinted after the deer, Darrio felt uneasy in the unfamiliar forest. It smelled different, there was a faint scent on the wind, long forgotten but distinct. The deer ran deeper into the forest of the Lost Lands but it faltered, it was tiring at last. The pack readied itself for a kill. It hobbled into a small grassy clearing but Darrio was stunned by glare from the sun. He scrunched up his eyes and they adjusted in time to see Zirrio stand upright and launch himself at the hindquarters, as Marro and Lurra closed in ready to lunge at the animal’s neck to sever the artery.

But Zirrio didn’t reach the deer. A spear came whizzing from the shadows of the trees around the edges of the clearing and lodged itself in his throat. He barked in surprise as it hit and then whimpered pitifully as he slumped to the ground, blood flowing from his wound.

The wolves skidded to a stop and squatted low behind Zirrio’s body, snarling. The deer shambled away. Arro started to howl savagely. Darrio and the others joined him howling.

A flurry of spears flew from the menacing shadows and the wolves turned tail, running back into the safety of the forest, hearing the whooshing and thudding noises as spears landed in the grass around them.

“My son! Zirrriiiooooo,” Lurra wailed.

They retreated a safe distance away and sat, heads lowered, behind the ripped up, tangled roots of a fallen tree, keeping their noses alert for changes in the scents on the wind. But they were alone. The young wolves had fallen behind but soon caught up to them, and all were full of excitement at crossing the river. They fell silent sensing that something was very wrong as Lurra swayed and lamented her loss. Darrio found his three pups and hugged them to him, licking their faces with relief that they were safe.

He recalled the faint scent and what it meant. “Peqkians,” he growled.

***

Arro sent the yearlings back to the den and told them to send Moirra, who had been on guard watching the new litter whilst the rest of the pack was out hunting. Once she had arrived, the wolves scouted the area, locating the humans and assessing their numbers and position. They regrouped a distance away.

“Established camp, fifteen humans. Majority female, carry weapons. Spears. Peqkians consider land as theirs, defend it,” Arro said.

“Once our land,” Lurra thundered. “They stole it from us. They have no claim over water or earth or sky or air. We are stronger now, males stand, we have standing female. Time to test our strength. They must die as my son died. Wulhor-Aaen is most powerful in Zwullfr, we avenge Zirrio’s death. We attack tonight.”

Darrio was reluctant and as the subordinate wolf in the pack he knew he should stay quiet, but he decided to voice his opinion. “Do I have permission to speak, alphas?”

“Speak,” Arro replied and Lurra snorted her approval.

He said, “No good will come of human attack. More come in their place and make trouble for us.”

“You are weak on humans, Darrio. You either with us or with them,” Lurra snarled at him, her tail high and quivering in warning.

“With you, Lurra,” Darrio replied and kneeled on his forelegs in submission.

The juvenile wolves were troubled and huddled together muttering and barking. Scared and confused at the loss of their brother as well as their odd surroundings.

“Moirra, Marro, Herra. Speak,” Lurra said.

“Ma, Zirrio has died, do not want same. Lost Lands smell of death. Never fought humans, frightened,” Moirra replied, the eldest of the three.

Lurra crouched and jerked her snout, beckoning her children. They crouched around her. Arro joined them but Darrio, as an outsider of no blood relation and the omega wolf, sat off at a distance. He listened in.

“Lost Lands smell of death as death is what happened here,” Lurra said. “Zirrio’s bones will rest with the bones of our ancestors. Hundreds of years past, many wolves lived here. Then Peqkians came down from the Small Mountains, greedy for the land. For thirty suns and thirty moons the human savages cleared the forest of wolves. Burning dens with newborns still wailing inside. Any survivors crossed Great River to north and we lost south Wul-Onr valley to the humans. It offended Great Mother Wolf and male pups born across Zwullfr mountains with ability to run both on four paws and on two hindlegs, to take revenge when time right, on equal footing.”

Lurra paused to look at each of her children and then continued, “We are the first wolves in the Lost Lands for many generations, but we must not be afraid for we belong here. You will all be mated soon and your territories can be here, should be here. We take revenge for Zirrio and for our ancestors tonight.”

“But why us?” Marro blurted.

“Why not us, Marro?” Lurra soothed. “We are here, we were brought here and the time for revenge has come, for Zirrio, for wolves. This is beginning. For reasons I do not know, the Wulhor-Aaen has been chosen to lead the charge for our kind. Be proud, be brave.”

The pack was quiet after that, contemplative. Darrio paced, every sound in the new forest catching his attention. He willed the sun to stay in the sky. He did not want to fight but had no choice. He had to obey his alphas or he and his pups would be packless again.

Darkness fell upon them and Lurra spoke the words Darrio had been dreading.

“It is time,” she said.

For the second time that day the wolves stood nose to nose in the hunt ceremony, wagging their tails. Arro led the pack. They picked their way carefully uphill and downwind of the Peqkian camp and then turned back to it. With bellies low to the ground, they edged closer and closer.

The stars were out and the night was still. The humans slept in tents next to the dwindling fire, apart from one female on guard. She patrolled around the camp, a well-trodden and obvious path. With little effort, Arro and Moirra stalked behind her and took her down without a sound. The absolute shock on her face etched itself into Darrio’s mind. Arro pointed his blood-spotted nose, directing his pack silently. The six wolves surrounded the camp with ease and on Lurra’s piercing howl they attacked.

The female human fighters were targeted first. The pack howled as they bounded through tent openings and lunged at the sleeping bodies, crushing necks with their devastating jaws and moving on to the next. The warriors who were still alive, when they understood what was happening, grabbed their weapons and stumbled out of tents, bravely fighting back. But the assault was relentless. Bloodlust and hunger spurring the pack on. In less than an hour all the humans succumbed, apart from one warrior left fighting stubbornly and, thought Darrio, heroically. The pack encircled her, biting at her limbs, clawing at her flesh and snapping at bloody fingers that clutched her spear. This taunting went on for a long time and Darrio felt ashamed, willing it to end.

She tripped and fell at Darrio’s feet, her spear rolling out of reach. He stared down at her.

“Finish her!” Lurra screamed.

Darrio froze. Not with fear but with a painful longing for a time in his past. His delay almost cost him his life as the warrior turned and grabbed a sharp rock bringing it up to smash his head. Lurra jumped forward and tore out the human’s throat with a gurgling sound that chilled Darrio to his bones. Lurra growled at him in disgust, narrowing her eyes, questioning his hesitation.

“Where’s sister Herra?” Moirra shouted and Lurra moved away from Darrio, searching for her daughter.

Herra lay dead a few paces away. Stab wounds covered her body. She was slumped on top of a dead warrior, the blood-soaked dagger still clasped in the human’s hand. Herra’s mouth was clamped around the warrior’s ruined skull. They lay in a gory red puddle. Lurra yowled, devastated by the loss of her second child that day.

“Eat your fill, savour human flesh. We leave at daybreak,” Arro told the pack.

But, like Darrio, Arro didn’t eat. He crouched next to the cold body of his daughter Herra and nuzzled his nose into her matted fur, breathing her scent for the last time.