Reborn Telenine
The humans, in their laziness, had taken to breeding and keeping caribou and reindeer in pens near their houses. It was easy meat for them, but it was also easy prey for the part of the wilderness that dared tread close to the two-legged animals with their long metal hunting-sticks and their traps. The lone wolf was one such wild thing. His paws left their marks on the otherwise pristine snow, with a few flurries falling from the darkness above. He stalked the fence, searching for the perfect place downwind of the deer. The stupid grass-eaters paid no mind to him, huddled together for warmth and perceived protection, from the biting wind and the snapping jaws of the wild. Finding a hole, the lone wolf crept into the pen. He was a dark mass against the pale background, but the tails of deer cannot see. The only tell of his presence was the soft crunch of the snow beneath his paws, though that could have come from any in the herd as well. He was within a short sprint of the closest caribou when he felt a sharp tug on his paw and deep within his hip, and suddenly there was no meal within his sights, but pure whiteness.
The frightened calls of the herd, startled by the snapping of the rope, woke the villagers who gather around the fence. The strongest of these came to the side of the snarling, snapping wolf and began to tie more rope around the struggling four legs and muzzle. But the wolf was let down and wrapped in a tarp. He was chained for the rest of the evening, to the side of a village hut like the pet dogs were. Unable to bury himself in the snow for warmth, the lone wolf did not rest. All night he struggled against his bondage until the sun peaked over the tree ridge.
That first light brought out the two-leggers, young and old, in order to celebrate. Where last night only the men had ventured into the cold to face the herd’s attacker, now women and children too gathered around the bound animal. He was too exhausted to continue to struggle as the crowd gathered, cheering and talking about the festivities for the day. It was the consecration ceremony for the new church. No longer would a valued hunting dog have to serve as the protective spirit for the building and its surrounding cemetery. They had a wolf instead, who would be the fiercest guardian in the area.
Burnt rye bread was tossed at his head, with rotting vegetables but they were too far for him to eat. Ears flickered back and forth and his lips parted in a snarl as a man pulled the lone wolf from the ground by his neck-ruff and the ropes around his hips. It had been perhaps an hour but already this far north the sun was again fading from the sky, cloaking the earth in darkness once again. Now, though, there was a light on the ground to rival the millions in the heavens, though this one blazed red and orange and yellow instead of the blue gleam of the moon and stars. Chanting and singing began, with mead and wine and reindeer meat shared around the bonfire. The volume rose louder and louder, and the lone wolf was held aloft until the strong man cast him into the flames and the song turned into cheering.
Pain coursed through him. Golden tongues licked at his coat, stinging like an acid. The ropes burnt away and the wolf tried to pull himself to his feet, but the pads were blistering. He collapsed into his torment with anguished despair and turned his face to the blessed moon who had failed in her protection of this beloved child.
Credits
Overlay by 
McLaren
Profile by Bohemian
Profile background image: here
