Hunting with Wolves: Part 2
Location: Zion National Park, Utah. Nearly 2 hours and a half outside of Nevada.
Time: Evening, month after the HoH attack.
The sun lowered itself beyond the horizon. Benjamin’s eyes caught the landscape drastically change into a dimmer doppelganger of itself, the blood-red rays faded to purple. The shrubbery and wispy trees dotted the valley between the towering cliffs, their sides naturally cradled the earth between them. Dark shadows rose into their assigned place when the sun finally vanished.
Their prey was not built to be nocturnal.
In a wicked motion, Benjamin’s black lips curled into a wolfish smile. His nostrils flared to catch the fear staining the breeze blowing past him. Another adrenaline bolted into his head, leaving a buzzing and encouraging rush at his skull’s back. His paws found the ground then pushed himself forward with the energy at a faster pace. Instinctively his eyes glanced to find Duff. The older wolf seemed nearly as drunk as he felt, a show of eagerness in his canine teeth glistened in the night.
His golden eyes returned to the front once more. He loved this moment in the hunt. The sensation of his tongue rolled at the corner of his snout, wind pulled past his fur and his muscles coiled underneath his fur. Energy rippled off each muscle as he became a golden blur among the scenery.
A few meters out, their gait slowed. This noses pointed to the air for their prey’s location. Among the rock structures stood the big horned sheep, their figures huddle close and pawed nervously at the ground. Nostrils filtered the air for hidden predators.
Benjamin snickered inwardly. They wouldn’t find any because the wolf pair were downwind. Duff snorted then jerked his head to the side, indicating Benjamin’s part in driving the sheep. Seriousness edged into his lax body language as he slinked off to the high ground. Duff trotted into out of sight behind a formation.
Meanwhile, Benjamin climbed higher. He was the aggravator. His job was simple: he scattered the sheep and drove them toward Duff, who would kill the weakest. It entitled the grisly old wolf to eat first, but Benjamin figured the old ass needed it more.
Slowly the younger werewolf scaled into the higher ground where the narrow breeze caught his smell and dragged to the prey. It worked like a charm.
The moment they scented him, their ears perked up and noses inhaled the information. Fear purged their common sense causing them to huddle closer. The younger males began to retreat slightly while they bleated in warning. Older rams lowered their head threateningly, their spindly legs braced their bulky body against the threat. They weren’t scared enough.
Benjamin growled in frustration. He paced from right then back to the left, eyeballing the distance from the group’s edge. The sheep’s sounds echoed off the canyon’s sides and threatened to deafen him. His fur bristled before he mock-charged at the nearest young male. It shoved backward in panic. The emotion spread through the sheep causing them to scatter down the only escape route available: right into Duff’s path.
With a happy and proud yip, he rushed after them. His figure entered the wide space just in time to see Duff’s jaws locked onto an elder ram’s hind leg. The pair struggled. As the sheep’s eyes widen in panic, it jerked a hooven foot back and kicked backward. On impact with Duff’s eye socket, the bone cracked.
Duff yelped as he released the ram’s foot. While the wolf hastily pawed away the blood, the prey hobbled to its feet then bolted away. Benjamin watched it a moment before he checked in on his companion.
‘Well, don’t stand there like a daff arse. Yer letting it get away!’ Duff mentally growled.
‘I wouldn’t be chasing it if you hadn’t dropped the ball.’ Benjamin paused to pick up the sheep’s scent more. His nose dug into the gravel where droplets of blood lead off into the section called a slot canyon. The tourists called it the ‘Subway’. Cautiously, he edged into the smoothed out tunnel where the Northern and Southern Guardian Angel came together. His steps echoed back at him as he casually moved deeper.
Eventually, his sharp vision caught the heavily breathing ram, its form on its side and breathing heavily. Blood stained the rocky floor where it stumbled then rose back up. It bleated in terror upon seeing him approach causing Benjamin’s lips to curl into a growl.
Something else was here. The moment he thought it, a large four-fingered hand emerged from the shadows farthest from him. It hovered over the ram before it slammed down to stun it. The creature never knew what hit it as the hand dragged it back into the shadows. A loud crunch vibrated the very walls with its sound.
Slowly, the young werewolf began to retreat. His hind paw touched something hard and rough, the cylinder shape rolled from under his footing. He stumbled.
A low rumbled indicated the predator in the shadows heard him. The crunching ceased as it shifted out of the shadows into the dim light.
‘Oh shit… Benjamin cursed.
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