Crying Wolf - 3. Chapter 3

Finn

Suspending his search and forcing himself to vacate the area surrounding Leeds before he drove himself mad, it was in these silent hours that Finn felt the most alone. So it comes as a surprise the remnants of scent beneath an ancient oak, charred and split by lightning, Finn circles with a mad fervor.

‘They were here.’

The blanket of leaves shushes softly as his nose furrows them aside. It is likely earlier in the day, and beginning to fade now, but without a doubt it is the very same hypnotizing trail that has lured him all the way to these English shores. Drawing in deep lung filling breaths, he lets the scent speak to him.

‘Male. Around my own age… Turned, just as I’d surmised. Alone. He was intimidated and hid here… probably the rival pack from the north.’

A deep rumbling growl issues forth from Finn’s belly. Circling around to the back of the charred tree, he overlays the bark with his own scent. Despite the fact that both trails are fading, instinct is a clarion call inside him to mingle his own assertive smell with the one he seeks to claim as his.

Returning to the hollow, he repeatedly circles amid the detritus before laying down to rest amid the now trampled tall grasses blanketing the forest floor. Tucking his black nose into the snowy fur of his tail out of habit, he huffs out a long whine of frustration.

To be so close and yet so far.

With the sonorous howls of his pack haunting his memories, the utter absence of life around him drives home the aching loneliness he feels. Ashamed of himself for giving in to such weak feelings when the blood of Fenrir sings in his veins, Finn knows he has the mettle to endure no matter what circumstances he faces. He’d made his choice, and there was no use in stewing over it now.

This was not the world of his elders any longer. Even now, two decades later, the world was still reshaping itself. After being decimated by the Black Death, humanity was toppled from their lofty seat. With the numbers of Man dwindling away into non-existence, it wasn’t long before those long relegated to lore and legend staged their bloody return.

It was amid this chaos that he’d been whelped and subsequently brought deeper into the fjords and forests where he’d grown strong, kept always apart from the escalating violence outside.

Nature’s laws were written in the blood of the weak. If you didn’t adapt, you died. It was as simple as that.

Torn between ancient knowledge passed down through generations and the struggle to evolve himself beyond the old ways, Finn was pushed to his limit surviving in the world as it was now.

His time would be far better served concentrating on the here and now instead of dwelling on things he could not change or control. Enough time had been wasted wallowing in his ‘woe is me’ attitude, and it was with marked reluctance that he forced himself to focus on what he’d learned of his quarry.

With a certainty, he knew that if he followed the scent it would indeed lead him towards the walled boundaries of Leeds. Snowy white ears twitching in aggravation atop his head, they betray just how affected he actually is by his journey’s latest turn. By all expectations, what he should have found was a territory that was clearly marked and maintained, especially between settlements such as York and Leeds.

So it was surprising to find fading muddled scent trails clinging to patrol routes that hadn’t been used in days. Different groups of wolves and men drifting in and out of each other’s territories without much care, the one thing they shared is they were always where he wasn’t.

It would be very unwise for one of his kind to advance on such a settlement unprepared. A tactical retreat had been his only course of action, and after running several miles deeper into the forest he’d reached the remains of the charred oak.

Never in a million years had he expected to find these precious hints of the one he sought so zealously. A soft whine escapes him in a long lamenting cry, instinct determinedly pulling him back in the direction of Leeds. Every fiber of him was drawn towards the one meant for him alone.

‘Patience.’

Better sense thankfully won out over the primal call of animal magnetism. He would need a cool head to plot out his next course of action. Anxious whining morphing into a deep rumbling growl at the thought of a rival pack daring to be brazen enough to think these lands open to be molested.

Finn would take it upon himself to revisit those trails upon the morrow, and once he’d made a point of introducing his presence they would think twice before daring to think they could wander onto another pack’s territory with so little care.

Tail wagging behind him, he felt much pleased with himself. Whoever it was awaiting him inside the city’s walls, he would show that he was one to be reckoned with. A strong mate who could protect them.

‘Rest now. Need my strength.’

Twilight was gathering and the comforting sounds of evening began to fill the dusky shadows. Eyes closing, he could almost picture a spring evening upon the fjords. Heart aching in his chest, it is a rare moment where the ghosts of the past are allowed to intrude upon his thoughts within the present.

Out there in the gloom he could sense the presence of The Lessers, his brethren who were ever lupine in form. Howls of greeting echoed out to him, tentatively querying whether he meant any ill will. Being able to answer their sonorous cries in turn filled him with a feeling of satisfaction.

Together they harmonized, letting their song carry for miles around. Finn told them in the way of their kind that he meant no harm to them and sought refuge and rest alone. Eventually their singing ceased and the night was once more ruled by the comforting buzz of bugs and bird calls. He imagined them getting further away, resuming their own pack movements.

‘I hope my brothers and elders are well.’

Closing his good eye and folding his ears back to nest amid snow white fur, Finn settles in to rest for the night. After such a long trek to reach these climes, it would not be amiss for him to recoup. A plump deer would do him wonders, but it appeared that his presence here was far from unnoticed.

‘Just sleep already. It’s not as though you are dying. Save the hunt for the morrow.’

Letting himself drift into a state of waking rest, though his eyes are closed Finn’s senses remain alert. Though doubtful of anything being foolish enough to make a pass at him, survival was dependent upon maintaining a state of ever vigilance.

He was alone.

No one was there to watch his back or guard his side. This was the life he had chosen for himself when he left the frozen north… but hopefully not much longer.

‘Soon. I must be wise in how I go about this.’

It was a tantalizing thought to nurture in the night. Knowing that they were ensconced among a pack of Bitten did complicate things for him. They feared those such as himself above all other things, and with good reason.

They were the root of their evils after all.

‘First, I will leave my message loud and clear for the York pack.’

Again a growl issues from the depths of his belly.

‘Soon enough. Very soon.’

Allowing himself a few hours of respite, the half-moon has arced its way well across the night sky when he rouses once more. Inhaling deeply of the fresh night air, it appears that nothing of note has dared to cross his path while he was for the most part unawares.