Mhadride and Alfsmench, Wolves of the New World

[weaselaferret]

Epilogue-The Beginning

The wolves barking excitedly, two-legged creatures shouting, her feet scrabbling against the hard brown floor, the door was her last hope… Wake up! Wake up! Mhadride shot up from her temporary bed under the stars, a cushy pile of brown leaves, and peered outside; it was as clear as a newborn pup’s eyes are blue. “It was just a dream,” she scolded herself, embarrassed at being so silly. “It’s over now,” she muttered, and went back to sleep, for it was still dark outside. The wolf sank into a dreamless sleep, only punctured by the early hazel rays of dawn.

He was tracking a young she-wolf, about his age. All the while, Alfsmench wondered what she would think of him. He was a handsome young he-wolf, with hazel-brown eyes and a luxuriously glossy black coat. He was a wolf of perfection- no one could deny it. Yet one thing was troubling him deeply; her scent was clear, but another scent, very faint, was mixed in. It was too hard to tell what it was. Oh well, he thought. I’ll sleep on it, and I might have it in the morning. So he scraped some dried leaves into a pile and sank down into his makeshift bed, waiting for morning, when he would begin tracking her again.







Mhadride trotted on through the woods, with no particular destination. As the wind whistled through the sun-lit woods, it shifted into a more favorable position, skimming over Mhadride’s back and causing her ruff to shield her eyes from the sun. But along with the new wind came a new scent- that of a wolf. “So”, she thought aloud, “I’m being followed.” She slowed down just enough so the wolf would still think she was going at the same pace. I will decide what to do after I see him, she decided.

He rose from his bed at dawn to hunt. Alfsmench caught a fat squirrel hoarding nuts for the oncoming winter. The poor animal was so fat it couldn’t run very fast. Oh well, he thought. It was an honorable way to die, to sustain another animal and give it life. With that, he set out to another day of trekking through the dense woods and smelling the rich airy scent of a winter soon to come. As he walked, he imagined what the she-wolf would look like. He wanted an exotic color, he clarified. Like me. White would be nice, or red, or even black, like him. And then, the wind shifted. True, it was pushing him forward, but also true, it alerted the she-wolf to his presence.
As Mhadride weaved through the trees, she kept a lookout for a small cave just enough to fit a wolf. “I wonder… is Mr. Wolf is as smart as I am?” she mused. But she was interrupted by the perfect cave, right under a rocky outcropping. Two tall pieces of rock had formed a peak that held up another round, flat circle of rock, weathered smooth and the perfect lookout. So Mhadride passed by about a quarter mile, then doubled back and was careful to stay on her original track. There, she thought. I will ambush the wolf who is trying to ambush me. She squeezed into the hole and settled down to wait, proud that she was so clever.

Alfmench paused. He sniffed again, just to be sure. Yes. Her scent had stopped. But he would follow it to where she was. So he set off once again into the wood. A clearing appeared, complete with a large pile of rocks. It would make a good den for us, he fantasized. Then, paying no more mind to the treeless zone, he trotted off. The trail led across the clearing, and then back into the woods on the other side. But something was wrong. The trail leading into the woods was stronger, and it wasn’t because of the extra scent marks and urine. He ascended down a slight hill sloping down for a quarter mile, and then stopped. The trail had ended abruptly. He snuffled around, but to no avail.

Mhadride silently praised herself for fooling him. She was certain that that would be the last they saw each other. So she set about marking her new territory. Little did the white wolf know that it was a bad idea? Confident that her clearing was marked, she uncovered a rabbit warren and caught 5 rather plump bunnies. After cleaning off her bloody muzzle, she started to explore her den.

Alfsmench was confused. He hung his head in defeat; for the first time staring at the lone wolf’s tracks. Then it hit him: this wolf was trying to fool him! It all made sense now. The she-wolf went ¼ of a mile after crossing the clearing, the stopped and retraced her steps back! So that would mean… she was in the clearing! Alfsmench was so excited that he fell over onto the mossy forest floor. He set out at a carefree lope until he was about 10 yards away from where he was sure the wolf lay. Then he crept to the edge of the forest before resetting his course to the opening of the rock cave. He stopped ten feet away and woofed softly, just enough for the other wolf to hear him. She came snarling at him, foam dripping from her bared teeth. But Alfsmench had smelled her territorial markings and quickly assumed the most submissive posture he could muster.



Mhadride had been exploring the intricately dug fox den until she heard a faint bark; with a start she threw herself into gear and flew out of the den, snarling and foaming at the mouth. She was greeted by a very handsome black wolf, with innocent hazel eyes and glossy fur. The large wolf sank down and started writhing in the dirt before Mhadride, who had stopped being territorial for a moment as this majestic creature writhed before her, reducing itself to a lowly scapegoat. She stood in awe as the black he-wolf dirtied his coat; Mhadride had the strange thought, I saw a pond as I was scent-marking that he can clean off in. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the foolish vision. But as she looked up, their eyes connected and Mhadride thought she heard a faint shattering in her chest.

Alfsmench was still rolling and writhing on the dirt when, by chance, his and Mhadride’s eyes met. At that very moment, he knew it was meant to be. So the great black wolf bounded over to the great white one, and a pair was made.