Twitch

The creature’s fuzzy ears flicked back and forth, sensitive to the vibrations felt in the air. It was going to snarl, but stopped itself. It did not want to unease its pack. Instead, it raised its head in a majestic way, far above those of its resting kind. Another hunt has come.

They did not know why they knew, but they knew. Their kind’s name, reverse trapping wolves. They were to be hostile to anything that is not their kind.

His neck twisted, allowing a view behind him and his mates.

His eyes narrowed.

A small bundle of gold and red spasmed in the corner. It quivered, flinging even more scarlet around its body. A wolf of beautiful silver formed a half ring around it. The alpha frowned. Well, almost. Some of their kind required culling.

His pristine silver hair flicked with a draft from within the cave. Twenty three wolves, himself, and his three mates. He had recently lost two at the territory battle, but overall they had gained much in exchange. Half the pack was already stationed at the other cave.

He closed his eyes as his lessers became alert. The harsh winds and snow outside; they were always similar, unchanging. It never shifted unless something was there. His mind turned the passive echolocation into an image, his face filled with wisdom as he recalled the original anthem of the storm.

Tall, very much so, but weighed down. Slightly above him when he is on all fours, a two legged mammal. Scales, or some other plate instead of fur. His ears flicked once more. Another creature on its back, wounded or cold? Likely. Two for one it seems, a meal like that would be greatly appreciated at the moment.

And as always, he would wait.

…

Tomoe set Isirith to the side. Her hands now free gripped her bow and drew from her quiver. Though vision is poor at best, her eyes are brilliant, twenty over ten. It is not about seeing them she learned, but rather drawing them out.

She took the grip of her bow in one hand, the ending of the arrow between her fingertips, and used her other hand to grab a lump of snow. This was now powdery snow, but a sticking clump of ice, making packing it into a good snowball quite easy.

She repeated the process a few more times, until she had twenty or so. Taking her open hand, she launched the snowball at the top of the cave, while using the time it was in the air to switch back into using her bow.

The snowball splattered and sunk into the gathered snowbank. Nothing.

For animal dens, there are almost always guards posted, and these should be no different. However, there were none, and that got her quite suspicious, and thinking back to the tracks. Her gut instinct which saved her many times told her that this was too elaborate. As she’s noticed before, the cave heals, and this should include footprints. Along with the rate of falling snow, and it should have been filled up much earlier.

Meaning that they were left that way on purpose, pressing down deeper into the snow to cause a longer time of recovery. Her mind opened in many ways, and she thought that perhaps there were no guards because there are guards. Jumping down and flanking pray would be a very effective hunting method. After that it became more and more clear.

In areas where there is barely any food, animals choose hunting methods that don’t require as much movement. They could alternate between members of their pack, going outside, leaving marks, and leading them back to the cave, where they would be surrounded and killed.

It upset Tomoe. Is it actual intelligence, or mere instinct?

She chucked another snowball, splattering against the covered rockface. And how would they see someone in the storm? Hearing, thermal vision, any amount of possibilities. She could limit them once she hit one. With a little toss upward, she caught it and shot it out like a missile, nailing the spot she targeted.

Another miss. Was she incorrect? Just to be sure…

She noticed a shift moments before impact, sliding slightly to the side. She was already ready for this, and after less than a split second of adjustment due to windspeed and movement, she fired where she thought the head would be.

It landed straight in the middle of the eyes. It stopped all forms of dodging and hiding and went still. She learned two things from this.

One, it doesn’t use normal sight. It would have seen it is just a snowball and did nothing. That left it down to about hearing and thermal vision. If she had to choose, it would be hearing. She’s covered in layers of cold armor, the chances of them noticing her are not good. Two, it is a four legged creature that has near the appearance of a wolf, only bigger. She knew she was going to hit it somewhere, but right where it needed to be? A lucky shot. Still, it provided a method to her of silencing them before they alerted their wolfmates.

And so, with the mark of a deadeye, she hunted them one by one.

…

His people laid still among the silent ground.

Yet, the meal still moved.

There were ten of them posted outside, up above the mouth of their cave. Even now, as she entered, they never attacked her from behind. Are they fools? Did they somehow find rest in the terrible temperature? It troubled him. Ever since he became alpha, they followed him without rebellion, and now this?

He raised his head once more, far above the rest of his kind. With his eyes and a throaty whistle, he gave direction to them. The distance between the main area and the entrance is not far, and he did not want to risk lives. They would delay the intruder, and howl for the others outside to hear. Once they awaken, the pincer attack could begin.

There is no possibility of the ones outside being dead. The creature never moved to the top of the cave, where the wolves lurked, and therefore could not slay them. Still, caution never hurt…

After but a moment he decided on five to interlope, while they delayed for the ten from behind. He did not know what this person could do, but if they have the ability to take out wolves from far away, then it would be better to have minimal losses. Thus, the five would rush without care for their lives. If they died, they would welcome the intruder from both sides of the inner den, circling around to take advantage of their numbers. If they lived, which is more probable, then he would accept what fighters he lost. Things with attacks from long range suffered miserably in terms of defence.

As he heard the padded feet leaving, he nuzzled his nose into the nape of his mate. He would rest, rest as his subconscious told him to. Less effort, more gain, though thought of in more of a primitive way rather than a human way.

…

A fire burned wildly at the lip of the entrance. The darkness inside bade her enter, but she refused. She chose the more frigid option, where the stone just barely protected them from the elements. Whatever twigs she had left were grouped together, while shavings of hair scattered thick throughout. She would try to get the both of them warm, while smoking the creatures out.

The issue was starting the fire.

Was being a key word.

Her arrows, tipped with steel, reacted well and created sparks with the stone. A boon well appreciated. Five minutes of hard work, and a small flame heated into existence. Tomoe just barely kept it alive, using her body to act as a shield. It grew in size, and reached a small torrent. The hide around her neck would soon be added, and would temporarily sustain it.

It bugged her, as many things did these days.

Why did she save Isirith?

By all means, she should have left her behind. Her life is not as important, she would surely backstab Tomoe, and she would be in a defensive-offensive battle. It was much too disadvantageous to do, so why?

Compassion.

A compassion she had rarely felt. Something that had come from the other side of her. She squinted as the fire roared. While compassion is nice, some other things took precedence. That was not the correct move to make. She would have to prevent herself when a situation such as that came up again.

Placing the satchel down, she scooted the unconscious Isirith closer to the fire, and leaned her down on Tomoe’s shoulder. The cold metal had already heated quickly, and was only hard, not freezing. It would take time for her fever to break, but she would be awake soon.

The echo of footsteps softly resonated to Tomoe’s position. She stopped all thought and reached for her bow. She could take a literal shot in the dark, but she would wait for a bit longer. It would be better to not reveal her hand and let them come into the light of the fire, or a bit off from it. Her string was drawn, leveled at the ready.

One step after the other.

One entered her field of fire.

Loosing a projectile, she quickly grabbed another. The soft pad of flesh confirmed her hit, and her arms swirled to another. The four gave loud, guttural roars before it became three. As they entered the light, she had already reduced their numbers to two. On all fours, they reached just above the belly button, but she didn’t care much for it except for calculation. Her hand released another rod of steel as she dropped her weapon. She would not have enough time to fire again. Instead, she moved towards the wolf while creating traction with her foot placement.

Her entire being shifted downwards, the wolf soaring just above. Her waist turned as she planted her hand, leaving her left leg to gift a crackling blow to the midsection of the wolf. The wolf readily accepted it, and flew once more, into the hall of rock’s wall.

The joints left an audible creak as the skull splintered. The impact left a stream of force through the body, ripping apart some life-upholding organs. Catching the fight still in the wolf’s eye, she didn’t stop her onslaught until a new sheen of red coated her gauntlets.

She listened in for any more sounds. None were heard save it be for Isirith’s shifting. Relaxing a bit, she stepped slowly to retrieve the corpses and arrows. No interruptions.

The bodies, now around the ring of flame, were carefully cut open; meat was taken properly. With less concentration on her work than usual, she prepared a meal and filled up her canteen with snow from outside, slowly raising the temperature of its contents. As she made a makeshift spit and stand once more, she started brandishing her ammunition.

She would wait.