Vengeance in the North Woods

Chapter 1

The pack moves through the night, silent as ghosts, in snow halfway to their bellies. Thor runs in front; lean and fast, he leads with an uncanny intelligence. The woods around them are a mixture of spruce, fir, and hemlock. Their senses stay peaked; it has been days since their last meal. The smell of food mingles with the cold, pitchy scent of trees. They know what kind of food too, cattle. These penned animals make easy prey; however, eating their kill before a farmer runs them off poses a challenge

The tantalizing scent leads them to a large, flat cornfield. On the far side-200 yards away-stands a muddy barnyard surrounded by a four-strand, barbed wire fence. To the right sits a big, red barn. Straight ahead and ten yards further, a two-story farmhouse watches over everything. On the clearing’s outskirts, Thor turns toward his mate. Athena carries one of their two, surviving pups by holding the scruff of it’s neck gently clamped between her teeth.

The food lies close by. Find a hiding place for the little ones and leave Nikita standing guard. I’ll locate our meal, then explore our surroundings. Thor whispers.

Athena’s St. Bernard father gave her the genes to become the biggest in her pack. She inherited his muscles and her wolf mother’s brains. She turns to Nikita, smallest of the adults, who holds the other pup, Thor wants us to find a hiding place for Harley and Ella, you’ll be standing guard.

Nikita nods and follows Athena into the underbrush. Soon they come upon some deadfall with small, softwood trees growing all through it. The saplings hold up a blanket of snow, creating an almost invisible cave.

Nikita, you’ll have to put both babies in there. I’ll never fit in that tiny hole.

Athena keeps watch as Nikita stows her puppies in the heart of the jumble. With her youngest children safely tucked away, Athena returns to find Thor and Bandit in their usual argument.

Dammit, Bandit, don’t defy me. We need food. We’re all hungry and the puppies are weak.

You take too many chances, Father. Raiding a farm is far more dangerous than running down a deer.

We need food so we can build the strength for running down a deer. We are barely strong enough to catch rabbits.

I should lead this pack. We’d be much more prosperous.

Any time you think you’re wolf enough to take over, you go right ahead and try. Thor curls his upper lip; a low growl starts deep in his chest. He crouches, ready to knock some sense into his son, yet again.

Shiloh, Bandit’s mate, steps between them. Her pure white coat shines in beautiful contrast to her love’s coal black one, Stop this, you two, please. If you spend all your energy fighting, we’ll starve, and the babies will die first.

Thor straightens and lets out a long sigh, You’re right, Shiloh. Bandit, we’ll finish this discussion later.

While Thor walks away, Shiloh nuzzles Bandit. Her presence calms the rage burning within him, Please, Love, be still. It is dangerous, but we must eat. We’ve had little since the humans drove us from our home. Damn them, I hope their dens fall and crush every one of them.

For you, My Dear, I will do anything. The day approaches though, when I will take my father’s place as leader.

I know, but now is not the time.

Beyond a small, spruce thicket, Thor paces. Athena stands close.

Dammit, Athena, what’s wrong with your son? He has no sense.

He’s your son too, Thor, and he acts more like you than you wish to admit. In his own way, he wants what’s best for the pack. Unfortunately, you two have different ideas of what that is.

I am leader of this pack, and until I am unable to do my job, he will do as I say. Thor storms off, looking for a way to calm down before the hunt; if he doesn’t have all his wits and composure, someone will die.

Later that night, clouds disperse and reveal a full moon, thus making their hunt more treacherous. Wolves don’t need the light to see their prey, but farmers need it to see them. Even though he knows he should wait, Thor can’t. Ribs show in every member of his pack.

Aright, everyone listen carefully. I don’t like the conditions, however, I don’t think we can chance waiting for Brother Moon and the weather to favor us. I’m afraid we’ll lose the little ones if we do. Our meal sits penned up next to that barn. We’ll circle in and drive them back toward the woods. This will gain us some time before noise alerts the farmer. We must kill quickly, then everyone grabs a piece and runs. In and out, quick and clean. Mother and I will take center, Bandit and Shiloh go right, Demon and Avalanche left. When we close for the kill, concentrate on calves. They’re easier to catch and they taste better. Understood?

Each wolf voices a low, undulating growl of consent.

Good, let’s go.

Their wraith-like movements barely disturb any snow as they make their way—single file and low to the ground—across the windswept field. A sudden change in wind direction alerts the cattle of impending danger and they mill around in fear. As Thor’s pack circles them, the herd of thirty or more becomes increasingly agitated. When everyone finds their place, Thor gives a short yip and his family ducks under the fence. The herd panics; they rush to the barnyard’s far end where they’re stopped by more barbed wire. Thor charges and his pack follows. They take down three calves with an efficiency that rivals trained assassins. Working as a unit, they push the cattle back toward the house to avoid being trampled in a melee while making off with their supper.

Inside the dwelling, Bob lies in his warm bed under a heavy quilt Emma Jeanne and her mother made. He had protested at first, saying it was too girly a thing for him to use. He didn’t want any flowery shit in his bedroom. Now he’s glad he lost that argument, their quilt works just fine on a chilly night like this. The sound of panicking cattle shatters Bob’s cozy slumber. Terrified moos from his bovines rip him out of bed.

Emma Jeanne rolls over, her bleary eyes trying to focus in the dark, her voice sounds like she has a mouthful of cotton, What’s goin’ on?

Bob lifts a pair of overalls off the floor and pulls them on over his long underwear, I dunno, somethin’s got the cows spooked bad. Could be coyotes. I’m gonna go check.

Well, be careful.

I will.

Bob creeps down well trodden, wooden stairs in his stocking feet. Being as quiet as possible, he makes his way to the front door and slips on his green, rubber barn boots sitting to its left. Hinges creak when he eases open the closet door. Damn, I gotta get around to oilin’ them things. Bob reaches in and pulls out a .32 Winchester his dad gave him when he was a boy. Leaving the closet open, he sneaks out, crosses his gravel driveway and edges toward the barnyard; what he sees inside gives him a jolt. Bob has heard about wolves moving into the area, but until now, he’s never seen any. He’ll sure as hell thin a few out, though.

Thor’s jubilant lupines zip about, in a hurry to get away with their kills. Once they reach safety, they can eat. No one senses the farmer creeping inside the fence. The tall, lean, hardened man draws a bead on Thor. A black blur flies at him and he fires. A bullet hits Bandit square in the chest, tearing out part of his spine on exit. Thor turns in time to see blood explode from his son’s back; Bandit’s body slams into Bob, knocking him down.

Thor cries out, No-o-o! Bandit, no-o-o-o. he coils the muscles in his hind legs, ready to attack.

Athena charges in, head butting her mate in the shoulder, turning him toward the woods, That human already rises with his killing stick, Thor. We must run. Now! She keeps pushing him to get him started.

Thor races across the field fueled by fury. Athena reaches the trees moments later. Her mate’s eyes glow red. She knows a word from anyone will bring on a fight, so she joins him quietly. When she sits beside him, he growls, I’m going to kill that human bastard. I shall revel in the sound of his scream just before I crush his throat.

Knowing Thor needs time alone, Athena leaves to check on her puppies. She finds them happily chewing on the carcass Demon and Avalanche managed to get back whole.

They jump up and bounce excitedly as soon as they see her, Mama, Mama, look what the twins brought us. Where’s Daddy?

He’ll be along. She looks at her white friend who stands close by, Shiloh, I need to talk with you. Alone. They walk a few yards away and stop on the backside of a fallen tree. Athena turns and faces Shiloh; tears stream down her face, Bandit didn’t make it. He jumped on the farmer to save Thor and that two-legged bastard shot him.

A pointed stick of pain stabs Shiloh in the heart. Her chest crushes under the weight of denial. No, you lie. My Bandit can’t be dead, he was right behind me.

I’m sorry, Shiloh. Athena doesn’t have strength enough to look her son’s mate in the eye. She snuggles close and they cry together; their tears mingling in the snow.

Athena lets her family eat their fill before calling them together and telling them of Bandit’s sacrifice. The news strikes like a boulder dropped from the sky, leveling the wolves souls under intense misery. Reality sinks in as slowly as spring run-off. In tear soaked voices, the pack sings; bone chilling sounds from their funeral song echo throughout the night.

Thor sits on a knoll overlooking the farm. He can’t join his family, too much fury courses through his veins. He stares at the bloodspot where Bandit died. A snarl trembles on his lips and tears burn in his eyes, You will pay for what you have done to my son, human.

Early the next morning, Athena rouses everyone, C’mon, let’s go. We need to scout around and find a more suitable place to hole-up. Nikita, guard the babies. Thor, are you coming?

No. I’ll be watching the farm. Alone.

I wish you would come with us, Dear.

Leave. Now.

Very well. Athena hangs her head and walks away, shoulders slumped, heart withered.

The pack begins its search; sadness pierces their hearts like a dull knife. Thor returns to his lookout point and glowers down upon the barnyard. In a few hours, he watches Bob—rifle in hand—following their tracks.

A toothy smile filled with joy and hatred spreads across Thor’s lips, That’s it you stupid creature, come into my domain.

Thor slinks off the hill and heads for his children’s hiding spot, placing each step with precision to avoid alerting his quarry. When he’s almost there, he hears Nikita’s warning growl. The human must be close. Thor runs all out, dodging branches and jumping deadfall. He arrives in time to see Nikita holding a defensive stance at the entrance of their wooden cave. Inside, his pups whimper in fear. Fury boils up inside Thor as the farmer raises his rifle, oblivious of the one hundred and fifty pounds of hatred moving in on his left, all focus set on the menace facing him.

Bob’s mind swims in plans of destruction, Once I kill this damn wolf. I’ll set fire to that deadfall, see if there’s anythin’ besides pups in there.

Thor gets behind his enemy and lets out the kind of snarling growl that turns men’s blood to ice. The farmer’s heart stops and his stomach drops to his feet; he turns toward the source of that terrifying sound. He comes face to face with the most vicious looking wolf he has ever seen. His eyes bulge from their sockets, his jaw drops, his fear numbed arms slowly lower his weapon, and a strangled cry whispers past his lips. Thor leaps—white teeth glistening in the sunlight—onto Bob’s chest, knocks him down and pins him to the ground. The wolf’s sharp canines tear through the man’s throat like a butcher slicing steak. Blood sprays Thor’s fierce face as he shakes his head, tearing Bob’s windpipe free. Standing on his prey, the metallic tang of blood and victory clinging to his tongue, Thor tips his head back and releases a long, triumphant howl. A twig snaps behind him. He spins and looks in Athena’s horrified eyes as she steps from the brush into the carnage her mate created.

Oh, Thor, what have you done?

I have avenged our son and protected our pups, the way any father should. This human, he spits the word out as if it taste like poison, will take no more children from us.

But, My Love, others will come. They always do. We must leave before they discover this one.

Thor lifts his head and sniffs the air, Heavy snow approaches. We shall go during the storm, it will fill our tracks and we can disappear.

Before long, Athena gathers her pack around their leader as a thick sheet of snow blocks out the noonday sun. The corpse under Thor’s feet will soon be covered. He addresses his family from the grisly podium, Alright, I want Mother and Nikita behind me carrying the pups, Demon and Avalanche next. Shiloh, you watch our backs. We’re moving out fast.

Where are we going, Father? the twins ask in unison.

I’ve heard stories of a place in the west where buffalo still live and humans are scarce. Maybe we can start a new life there. Come, let’s leave this ugly place behind. Thor lifts his leg, urinates in the farmer’s face, then leads his family into the blizzard.

Emma Jeanne stands staring out a double pane, insulated window, framed by white curtains decorated with pictures of blueberries. Her typical, country kitchen feels empty. A knot of worry builds in her stomach as she watches snow fill her husband’s scant tracks, leading across their cornfield and into the woods. It’s milking time and he’s not back yet; something must be wrong.

Damn him, she mutters to herself, I told him to wait until Adam came back from spreading manure in the East Meadow. It’s dangerous going after wolves alone. I better send Adam after him.

Emma Jeanne throws on her old coat and rubber boots. She crosses their yard at a trot and opens the milk-house door. Noise and heat from the barn slap her face. She walks alongside a huge stainless steel, bulk tank. Out of habit, she places a hand on the smooth, shiny tank, assuring herself that its refrigeration unit continues keeping the milk inside cold. She passes through a narrow doorway into a milking parlor where six cows line up (head to tail) down both walls, with railings all around them. In a concrete pit running up the center, Adam—a brown haired bull of a man—works amongst a jungle of hoses, preparing to start the evening chores.

Adam, I want you to go look for Bob. He’s been gone a long time and I don’t want him chasing those darn wolves through the woods after dark. I’ll take care of the milking.

Sher thing, Emma Jeanne. I’ll grab muh .30-.30 outta muh truck and take Festus wit me.

Adam climbs five, steel-grate steps out of the pit and hustles outside. He snags a lever action, .30-.30 Winchester rifle off the gun rack in his rusty, blue, Chevy pickup, gets a box of bullets out of the glove-box, loads his rifle, and snatches Festus’ leash off the seat. He slams the door with his elbow while chambering a shell then walks to Festus’ temporary dog house (a big, plastic igloo normally used for housing calves) beside the barn. A young bloodhound springs to his feet when he hears the cocking Winchester; he knows it’s hunting time.

Adam hooks on Festus’ rugged, leather leash then leads him to Bob’s half filled tracks, Awright, Festus, let’s go find Bob, then you an’ me cin have a beer.

Festus yanks against his restraint; if not for Adam’s bulk, his dog would drag him across the field. They make a quick beeline across the opening. The bloodhound has no doubts about where the trail leads. At the tree line, Festus slows, growling. A strong wolf smell burns his nose. Fine hairs on the back of Adam’s neck stand on end. The woods lie silent, creepy silent. His heart skip every other beat as his dry throat constricts. Something horrible lurks in the air. Twenty yards in, they find a strange looking lump in the snow. When Adam dusts off Bob’s corpse, his stomach rolls at the sight beneath.

Shit, Festus, lookit what they done ta Bob. He heaves a strangled sigh and searches the area with a fire building in his belly, From the looks a them tracks, they ain’t been gone long. If’n we hurry, we cin git some payback. Hunt boy.

Festus yanks the leash out of Adam’s hand and disappears into a spruce thicket; his braying bark echoes through the trees.

Hellfire, I better hustle or I’ll lose thet damn dog fer sher.

Thor hears a deep throated bark and stops to determine its location. His ears prick and hackles raise. Softwood trees grow dense here, distorting sound direction. The scent of cold pitch mixes with a sour odor of man.

C’mon, everyone, I smell human following that dog. Let’s try avoiding them.

Thor leads his pack up a steep ridge, hoping higher ground will give them a better vantage point and maybe some idea where their pursuers are going. If they see man and dog trying to cut them off, they can change course and get away. The pack’s adrenaline pumps through their veins in hot, energy charged pulses. The dog closes on them. Thor knows wolves have much more stamina than dogs; they just have to keep moving. Thor charges across the pinnacle and suddenly breaks out of the brush into a small clearing. In a panic, he locks up all four feet, skidding to a halt. Athena slams against him from behind, almost knocking him off a forty foot cliff.

Damn, Thor yips as he watches a snowball off his foot shatter upon the rocks below.

He takes a few steps left and finds another drop off. He turns, trots the other way, and discovers a deep void. They face cliffs on three sides and a dog with its human behind them; Thor must take action.

We can’t backtrack now, we’ll have to make some sort of a stand here. Athena, you and Nikita hide the puppies in that thicket on our right. The rest of us will try scaring off the dog before his human catches up.

Athena and Nikita slip into the bushes. They nestle under a pile of deadfall then lay atop the puppies thus keeping them warm and quiet. They become invisible to their pursuers, yet can see the entire clearing. Their remaining family members form a half circle along the cliff edge; Thor at center, Demon on his left and Avalanche to the right. Shiloh hovers in a thicket near their flank. Festus bursts from the underbrush and slides to a stop inside the ring. Shiloh appears behind him, blocking his retreat. Thor steps forward, ears laid back, lip curled, and growling. After an initial cower, Festus regains composure and assumes a defensive stance. Thor struts within biting distance, trying to stare the bloodhound down. He can smell the young dog’s fear; a sense of power invigorates him.

Thor speaks in his deepest, most ominous voice, Pack law keeps me from killing you outright, Cousin. I must allow you the chance to flee. Do so now, and save your life, as well as your human’s.

Festus’ pounding heart drives icy blood through his body. Chills make him shiver uncontrollably. He tries keeping his bladder in check, but a drizzle of urine betrays him. He crouches, preparing for a fight he knows he can’t win. The frightened dog gathers all the bravado he can scrape together from hidden corners in his heart.

He looks Thor square in the eye, Listen to me, Wolf. My human will be here any second. If YOU leave, you can save your life and your pack’s. My human is angry over you murdering his friend. He brings his killing stick and shall destroy you all.

Adam stands just out of sight in a thicket, blanched from the deadly scene playing out in the small clearing. A gentle wind carries his scent away from the pack, but that could change at any second. He raises the rifle and exhales a long breath to still his shaking hands. He must be quick and accurate to save Festus. He cocks the rifle’s hammer with his thumb and slowly squeezes the trigger.

Athena knows she has mere seconds to execute a rescue. The human in front of her will kill her entire family if she gives him a chance. She musters every ounce of strength into her legs and powers forward. She slams her head into the back of its left knee at a dead run. Adam’s foot launches skyward, his rifle barrel heaves straight up, and he fires while crashing onto his back; air leaves his lungs in a painful whoosh. Athena’s pack flinches at the shot and whirls toward the bushes. Festus sees a chance and leaps