Sacrifice

He ran barefoot across the rocky plain and didn’t look back. Soon they would be upon him, and every step he took bought valuable time. He could feel the shaking of the ground beneath his feet and hear the scrapes of claws tilling the earth behind him. The wolves grew closer. And then came the snarling. The teeth snapping at his heels.

When the boy entered the woodline he weaved between the trees. He burst through thistle and brush. The pack dropped back slightly, but he pressed on, and as thin branches nipped at his bleeding face, he saw from the corner of his eye a black wolf charging parallel to his right. It cut left with ferocious speed and before he could pivot away from it, the wolf took hold of his ankle.

He cried out and tumbled to the ground and the pack closed in on him. Sneering growls echoed against the frozen trees in the chill of the winter air. He lifted to one knee with a fistful of dry earth, and when the black wolf leapt toward him he cast it into its eyes. It flinched and shook its head, and another moved in. He pulled from a weathered sheath his late father’s hunting knife and slashed at the head of a wolf with one hand. It yelped loudly. Without hesitation another flanked his side. He stuck the knife into its neck and twisted the blade and pulled it out again. Blood rushed down his wrist, the weapon slipping from his hand as a wolf dragged him away by his leg. He reached for the blade, but it was too late. The wolves snapped and howled as they tore into their prey.

Somewhere in the wilderness, the mother walked her son down a harsh, barren trail. He clung tightly to her side, but when he heard the howling in the distance, he looked up at her and did not cry. He took his mother’s trembling hand and led her home.