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Ves'tacha by Sean Michael Sochar ran at the edge of the pack, wheeling and turning, flying through the woods, careful to stay near the outside, not to get hedged in. He was running with the big dogs now. Puphood was behind him and he had a thing or two to prove. Like how he could keep up with them, for a start. How he was an asset rather than the burden every pup was before they could take their place in the pack and help bring down the food. He avoided barking, his voice still a little high, not the low, deep sound of the older wolves like Teyeth and Randor. Not the loud, authoritative growl of Gareth. Speaking of the Alpha... Big and silver and he could run like the wind, Gareth was actually holding back as he led the pack, so they could keep up with him. Sochar did his best to excel at everything he did so the Alpha would notice him. He didn't boast or bark a lot like some of the other wolves. Instead he let his actions speak for him, catching small game and bringing it to the pack, laying it at Gareth's feet. Keeping up with the big dogs as they ran. Unlike the other wolves, Sochar wasn't preening for shemate. It was Gareth's look he wanted to catch. The running felt good, like he could do it forever, his legs carrying him easily over the ground. Gareth's ears pricked up, nose twitching. Then a series of short, sharp commands were handed out. Big game up ahead. An ox. A male. The older males spread out, moving instinctively into formation. This is where it got tricky. Sochar wanted to be in on the kill, needed to do his part, but where did he fit? There was a bit of a hole to the right of Gareth, left there by Ben's death. A hole no one had filled. Did he dare take it? He put on a burst of speed and took the position, eyes and ears wide open so he didn't miss a cue. He couldn't be anything but noticed here and if he screwed up, that would be what Gareth remembered. Those icy blue eyes looked at him, Gareth nodding once, then crouching low, putting on a burst of speed. The ox was in the tall grasses on the edge of their territory, eating, head down. They circled, closing ranks so that when the beast noticed them it would be too late. He stayed close to Gareth. Not close enough to get in the way, but close enough to follow the Alpha's lead. Adrenaline flooded him and he had to fight not to throw his head back and howl, had to fight to channel it into the hunt, the kill. Teyeth led the rush from the side, Gareth growling and crouching to leap, to take the throat from the ox. Sochar’s job was to help hold it down, grab a cheek with his muzzle and drag it to the ground. He leapt right after Gareth did, teeth sinking in. He pulled with his entire body, hanging on as the ox fought for its life. Gareth's body bumped against his, the splash of blood from the ox pouring everywhere, wet and rich. He fought his desire to lap at the blood, he needed to keep hold of the ox's cheek, needed to do his part or the ox would escape and they'd be searching for big game that was scarce, scared off by the scent of the ox's blood. It seemed like hours, seconds, days, heartbeats, and the ox fell, the pack falling on the meat with a unison howl. He threw his own head back and howled, blood on his muzzle, in his mouth. It was good to be alive. Gareth's voice joined his, those eyes watching him, approving, proud. Joy filled him at being noticed and he howled again, daring a quick lick to Gareth's muzzle before lowering his head for his Alpha. The Alpha actually leaned in, nuzzled him -- just quickly, but it was a nuzzle, a touch -- before going back to feed. He quivered, excited and happy at being noticed, at Gareth's touch. The fresh meat was good and he ate his fill, knowing he could, they all could, and still have enough to drag home to the females and pups. After he was finished eating, Gareth stretched out, watching them, licking his lips and cleaning his paws. Sochar dared to stay near, sitting down close enough to lean over and lick, but not actually touching, cleaning himself just as Gareth did. The Alpha allowed him to stay, not backing him away like he was a puppy. From here he could see the multiple colors that made up Gareth's pelt, the clear shine of Gareth's eyes. Gareth was so beautiful. Handsome and strong, the best Alpha anywhere ever, Sochar was sure of it. He rested his muzzle on his front paws, watching, gazing at his hero, his alpha, his heart's desire. |
