Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Stone warned his pack. He told them that certain areas of the forest were now forbidden to roam. He disclosed the best times of day to hunt without being detected, and when to return to the den. See, he had studied the settlers—specifically, their hunters. He figured out their patterns and behaviors. He observed them from a distance and made mental notes. Stone was older and wiser, but he was still the strongest wolf in that entire forest, hellbent on protecting his pack.
Day after day, week after week, other wolves from other packs were being killed by the settlers. Stone was concerned. He cautioned his pack once again to never drift too far from the den. It was no longer safe to sleep out in the open at night like they used to, either. He thought about relocating, but remembered what the river had said all of those years ago. This must be the season of blood. Despite these warnings, one day, several wolves of his own pack went missin’. The next week, more were gone. He’d heard their howls and yells in the far distance, and knew they’d been murdered by the colonizers. With only a few pups left and his mate, he gave a stark warnin’ about the doom that loomed ahead if they were not careful and disobeyed him. Stone said, “Don’t go far, and stay away from the river during the day. Late at night, we will all go and drink together.”
That day, Stone went to sleep with his family. Just as the sun was setting, he awoke, prepared to start making the trek to the river, just as he’d promised. But when he got to his feet and looked around, he realized that his family was gone…
His pups had complained days before that they didn’t want to be tied down and have to wait. They were thirsty for fresh water, not the insular muddy puddles, and wanted to play in the daytime when the sun was warm. There were fish near the bank. His mate didn’t listen, either, for she complained that she wanted to hunt for the best squirrels, rabbits and elk, and catch the tastiest moles, which were far away on the other side of the forest—near the river, and in abundance only during the daytime.
Stone howled and howled for his family, but received no answer in response. In a panic, he ran towards the river in hopes of finding them before it was too late, but soon he stopped dead in his tracks. In the distance, he heard the all too familiar voices of his family—their painful cries and wails. They sounded injured. Dying. Slipping away… and then, everything went silent…
His heart sank in despair. His wolfpack was gone. Every last one of them. Stone was now all alone.
Things got worse. Now word spread about a huge, lone gray wolf that was hunting the town. The huntsmen were talking and plotting to kill Stone. They said he was a monster, that he was big as the moon. He heard them talking amongst themselves, accusing him of eatin’ up all their chickens, gobbling the cattle, and destroying the vegetation along the riverbank. Stone hadn’t done any of those things. He knew where those chickens were, and the cattle, too, but he never bothered those areas, for he knew the possible ramifications. He got his food from the wilderness, and down by the river, and that was what he’d taught his pack to get their sustainment, too. As far as the river, he hadn’t been there nearly as much due to the hunting of wolves, and only went there in the dead of night for a bit of fresh water.
He wasn’t responsible for any of the problems that hunters blamed on him, and realized that even staying out of their way would not work. Stone didn’t have other wolves to protect any longer, and he had no one helping him, either. He was now a lone wolf, but not by choice. Resentment and sadness set in. At times he felt like he had nothing to live for. Despite these challenges, Stone tried to stay hidden as much as possible. He kept to himself. But a rage built up inside of him, one that kept growing and festerin’. He wanted revenge. He couldn’t let go of the past.
He kept thinking about his mate and cubs, how they’d been gunned down by the true monsters, and he was haunted by their final howls of despair playing over and over in his head. A part of him convinced himself that he no longer cared about anything at all, just so he could make it through each day. He didn’t do much of anything anymore. He retreated and felt nothing but pure apathy—no love, no emotion. He was a protector, provider and lover by nature. But now, there was no one to protect, provide for, or love. He’d become sloth-like. Not lazy, but unmotivated and indifferent. A complete change from his true nature, and he didn’t know how to feel alive again.