Important Memories - Singer
Light blankets the wilderness, highlighting the trees with silver, the caressing rays coming from the moon. It was night-time for most creatures, but for me it was time to go hunt. Ever since my mother made me leave the pack, I have had to scavenge, hunting for food amongst the dead and left prey of others. Two separate occasions taught me valuable lessons, which I have carried with me until today. A sigh rattles my thin frame as I remember back to the first time of learning for me, some two years back, when I was just a yearling wolf, alone in the world and as naïve as possible.
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I had been walking along, my paws mismatched but their colour strong, unlike some wolves, who seemed to be washed out as though the Goddess had failed to colour them properly. My right foreleg and left hind leg were coloured with the black of the shadows, though this colour also washed across my ears, cheeks, back and tail. I had seen in a pond that I also possessed a black splodge upon my throat, which was shaped something like a teardrop. The rest of my body was a silvery white, the colour of the moons rays which were staining the ground as I walked, and as yet unscarred apart from two bite scars. One of these adorned the crown of my head, the other the underside of my muzzle. I was young, but skinny, having not eaten properly since I was an unweaned pup.
My ears perked as I heard a peculiar sound, like a miniature rock-fall. My head tipped to the right side, as I tried to think as to whether I had heard such a noise in my short life previously. Deciding that I hadn't, I shook, and padded forward, not knowing I would later be thanking my light frame for undoubtedly saving my life from the creatures ahead. I was cautious, approaching from downwind (this was the only thing I had learnt about hunting when my aunt had helped me). It was a voice I next heard speaking and the words made me frown, if only because I could understand them. (I was a very naïve young wolf, remember and had not had much contact with any other creature, my species of not.)
"Momma, when will we be going hunting?" The young voice chimed, that almost musical sound taking on a rhythmic quality. Another voice, slightly softer than the first also spoke, making my head tip the other way again. "Please Momma, now would be a good time to hunt something small, surely?" The speakers were small, maybe double my slim weight, bordering on the edge of emaciation, and topped my height by another foot easily.
They looked weird though. They had small round ears, that were black, and they had a flattened muzzle. They also had whiskers but they curved outwards at great length. From what I could see of their eyes, they had a peculiar blue cast (I know that it might be rude for me to say this, since my own eyes are odd being golden and blue, but I was young and every wolf can make a mistake). Their tails were long, maybe the length of their body and rounded at the tip. Their fur was striped, and their scent was a whole lot more muskier than any canines I had come across.
I could see their mother from here too. She made my eyes widen and my ears flatten nervously because I knew, could sense, that she would have been able to flatten me with one single blow from that huge paw, tipped with what I knew would be savage claws, a fair match for the large teeth which adorned her large frame. She was a larger version of her young, and it was from her that that oddly relaxing sound was coming from. The small family were lounging upon a rock pile, paws and tails dangling as the mother thought. As she spoke, I twitched slightly, thinking she could see me and so I cowered down, flattening my body to the ground. "Yes, my sweetlings, we shall hunt. I shall teach you so that those who would dare hunt one of the great Felidae, the tigers, the true kings of the jungle, can think twice once you are mighty and have left me for your own territories."
Once she had spoken her mighty speech, she launched her body off of the rocks, and I cringed again, for I had sat up so as to see them clearly. She landed with only the barest thuds, shocking me. Surely I hadn't been wrong about her weight? But no, her cubs landed with a lot more noise and less finesse than their more experienced mother. I don't know what prompted me that day. Where I was once afraid now I was bold, and I followed. My tail swayed almost merrily as I followed the large paw steps of those ahead of me. They too were downwind, which made my stalking easier though I was anxious slightly. The silence began to get oppressive, as I nearly ran into the back of one of the cubs, who was watching a clearing intently. I backed off, moved around and lay in wait, my body hidden by a mass of foliage. The other cub was on the other side, blue eyes also affixed upon the clearing. From my position I could see that their black ears both had a white dot upon them, something which struck me at the time as funny. (I know, rather rude of me, but I was young!)
I stopped muffling my giggling with a paw as I heard hooves striking the ground, followed by the lolloping thunder of paws. An unsteady panting, followed by the scent of fear and the slight tang of blood made my own heart race faster, but the tiger cubs barely moved. As their mother appeared in view, trailing a small deer, they rose up and met her, one to each side. I saw why it was that the deer hadn't escaped yet. The clearing was edged to one side by a cliff, which rose oppressively high. The mother spoke as she stopped the deer from hurtling first one way and then the next. "First, my dears, dig your claws into the back legs or hips like so." She demonstrated, making the deer scream out in pain. After all, Nature is brutal and endings are rarely happy no matter how simple a life is lived. "Once you have done so, you can claw up the back of a larger animal, though a small deer such as this, when fully grown you will bring it to its knees. Now we can do the most humane thing known to the big cats. If you clamp your teeth down around the neck of a deer and bite down, you will crush the cartilage and kill it quickly. While two of you hunt and you aren't large, one can bring the deer down, and the other can bite onto the muzzle. This will cause suffocation though this is a slower, more painful death. Always remember to watch the hooves!"
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The memory faded, and I sighed, before half smiling. It was amazing that three years on I still hunted how I had learnt to that much. The cats had left me in good stead for my life, enabling me to hunt when I needed to though sometimes it was easiest just to find those already dead. Nature provided for those who needed, blessed be the Goddess.
Another memory soon took the firsts place, and I couldn't help but tremble with the pain this memory caused. Memories came in pairs, one good, one bad for me. I lay down, so that while my body quivered with remembered pain and fear, I would not topple over like a weak tree.
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It was a scant six moons after I had learnt to hunt, and I was maturing quickly. I had not grown any larger, but my frame was not so skinny that my hips protruded as they had done previously. I was following the scent of a birthing doe (a female deer for those wolves who call prey different things) and boy was I hungry. My stomach was clenching and gnawing at me, burning with a desire to eat and eat well for once. I was stalking, employing the same characteristics that had held me in such good stead previously. This doe smelt wrong, her birthing bloods were splattered everywhere I looked and so I followed. (Hey an easy meal must be a good one!)
I found the doe first, alive but shuddering, pain clear in her pure brown eyes. I ignored her, well mostly. A snap from my teeth soon sent her on her weak way, though I held little optimism for her to last the night. I wanted the dead calf, laying so openly upon the ground. I wasn't without manners, despite the starvation which would have sent me into a spasm known as the blood lust. When that occurs we will, and do, kill everything in sight even if we aren't hungry.
I thanked the goddess before beginning to feast upon the succulent venison. Raw and bloodied, my muzzle was soon coated with gore as I fed my stomach. A low growl, which sent the ground beneath my paws rumbling, made me look up. As stupid as it sounds, when I saw the large bear standing their, its head lowered and piggy black eyes glaring at me, I wasn't afraid. In fact I taunted it a bit, which might have made what happened next my fault. I kept my mismatched eyes on the bears, and tore off a strip of lean meat, gulping it down. The bear roared again and reared up on its back legs. And Goddess...I had no clue that a bear could or would be so long! Maybe four times my two foot height (and possible five times), armed with the claws that were as long as my muzzle and sharper than my teeth. It charged at me, falling onto all fours within two steps. I stayed where I was and snarled out a challenge...a challenge I had only half finished when I had felt a scalding pain splitting my chest in two. I half expected, with the delirium caused by pain, to see two WaterSingers, but there was indeed just me. Blood began to pool around my paws, reddening my left forepaw due to the whiteness. That damned bear had in one action, split my chest open from collarbone to under my leg, from left to right. The cuts were jagged and deep, in two places I thought I could see bone where the claws had dug in.
I staggered away from my meal, bleeding gradually oozing to a stop, and slept for a full day and night. It took me sometime afterwards to heal from that, and ever since I have been ashamed though not many loners can take on a bear, especially not at eighteen months old, and survive.
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I had learnt three things from these experiences. One, to learn what I could from wherever I could. Two, watch out for the hooves on prey, they could hurt. Thirdly, never trust a bear. They are vile, cruel and food stealing and nothing good could come from them!