The dire wolf

Taking a break from my other story and writing this one for a change and also changing to post instead of the column

The Awakening

I

A gust of wind plastered the thick fur coated cloak to Grador's back. The fur sticking out from his leather boots wrapped around his legs. Even the thick wolf fur cloak could not keep out the cold wind. Grador held his cloaked tighter wrapping the ends into his fist as he held the reigns of his horse. He wished he had a thicker cap that would not let the freezing chill through as easily. He was bent over leaning near to his horse's neck. Besides the howling of the north wind he could only hear the muffled thumps created by the hooves hidden under thick horse socks. Trying to stay exposed to the wind as little as possible yet still be able to reach the bow and arrows Grador slowly moved forward.

There was snow covered trees on both sides of the path and Grador could not see past them. He listened carefully for any kinds of sounds. It was a colder winter than usual. Animals had become scarce as most of them had either migrated south or gone into hiding in some caves. Food was hard to find and the population of wild animals had grown. Every day more people would disappear. Most of the time the stories were that they ether froze to death or got eaten by wolves or bears but every once in a while some one would dare stand up and say that the people who were disappearing were also being hunted and eaten by other people.

The world had changed. The long warm summers had been gone for so long that even the older people could scarcely remember what it was like. Grador was still a child when summer had turned into winter. His family had long been dead and only two weeks earlier had the kind old man ,who had taken Grador into his care, died. The old man had heard some noise in the barn and gone out to look when he was attacked by some thing or some one. Grador had not been able see what it was, because by the time he reached the door with his bow stretched and an arrow resting between his two fingers, the screams of the old man had died away and all he saw was a trail of blood in the snow. It had been a few days since the last snow fall so there was not fresh or untrampled snow which would have left a clear print of the attacker.

The horse took slow and steady steps as it fought the wind. The wind was blowing straight towards them and every once in a while the horse would loose its footing and tumble before regaining its stance. Ice had started to collect onto Grador's eyebrows and eyelashes. It became harder to see what was ahead of him, but he could still make out the snow fall. Then like lightning, and with extreme precision Grador had snatched his bow, drew out a arrow, placed it on the string of the bow pulling back the arrow which stopped and rested against his cheek. The snow that had piled up on his cloak was scattered into the air from the abrupt movement. Grador did not stop his horse, but just sat there on top of his horse. His back was straight and with his hawk eyes he scanned the forest from where the sound had came.

There was no more sound for the next five minutes. Then he heard the sound yet another time. It was the sound of dried, old branches shattering under a heavy paw. Grador's hand let loose and the arrow whistled through the air. Before the arrow disappeared into the forest a second arrow was already flying behind it. The second arrow angled thirty degrees left of the first one. The third arrow stayed ready on the bow. The first thump came followed shortly by a second one. Both arrows had missed what ever had been in the woods. However Grador was not convinced that the danger was over.

He looked around and his eyes caught a glimpse of a dark figure. The dark figure was on horseback but produced no sound. The cloak did not waver in the wind nor could the rider be properly seen. The sight of steam rising from the hood signaled the presence of a warm creature. Grador could not understand the presence of the figure. His wondering did not last long as soon after he was knocked of his horse. Two large paws held him down against the snow. He felt the sharp nails slowly digging into his woolen shirt after which they would puncture his skin. The low grumbling growl of the dire wolf broke the silence. Grador reached for his dagger, but was stopped by the wolf. The wolf had moved its left paw and was now pressing the hand down.