Red Fern Forest eye of the beholder

The world seemed to hold still for a few minutes.

In those few minutes Gilligan spoke. The boy had every right to be nervous; the cream-hued alpha was hanging on each word now. When his eyes narrowed, her frame lifted. Gray-tipped tail was stiff behind her. With worry to sharpen them, his speech seemed more concise and the meaning clearer. Her eyes flickered over him, trying to determine his truthfulness. His claim of a "big pack" was hardly believed, but death and desertions were both common in the time before she left. The place he described was sad, but ultimately nondescript. She wasn't interested in a story about wolves.

Her breath held for the second answer, ears curved forward. The air froze in her lungs. At first the description did not make sense. Humans certainly were whitish, but rarely went wolf-hunting while naked so the color did not strike an instant chord. It was only a curious peculiarity that she mulled around. The description continued and every muscle went tight, hackles fully raised and tail now over her back. Holy shit. The 'how' and 'where' were irrelevant, even this wolf's opinion (his very life) was irrelevant. They'd poisoned her birth-pack; hunted down her family. Iopah was there the night they had caught her sister, heard her scream and seen their rounded faces. Their rounded white, faces.

Ears pinned and teeth bared, Iopah lunged. They were not coming here to torture and maim her family all over again. If scaring the ever-living crap out of Gilligan is what that took, then so be it. She aimed for the closest and most sensitive part of him, an unearthly shriek splitting the quiet.

   

Whatever Iopah wanted to hear, he clearly hadn't said it.  Whether it was the once pack, the south, the collar, or even the white walkers, the boy had no idea.  Everything seemed to go silent for a split second, and then it exploded, all at once.  The woman was on him like a bullet, no stray, no drift, just shot at her target with the intention to kill.  He'd no idea what he'd said to offend, but no thought was wasted on it.  There were no longer even words, only fierce, raging emotion as he was plunged into a fight he did not ask for.
 
The alpha lunged and Gilligan froze, a scream echoing forth from him as the stranger made a direct hit.  She collided into his shoulder, teeth raking across his withers and through his scruff.  Thankfully, the boy's think, smoky ridge along his spring protected him from the worst of the harm, but still she caught blood as she surged forward.  It was lucky, truthfully, he'd ducked just enough to avoid being bitten across the face.  He might have lost an ear to those snapping jaws, or if truly helpless, he'd have lost his throat.  Perhaps @Datura would have been proud to know his son had some instincts after all, able to survive even in the face of madness, but he was not thinking of the Aquila heir now.
 
It was only run, and quickly!  The forest was a blur as he rounded, sprinting away as fast as his thin legs could carry him.  Never once did Gil look to see if she was following, running for miles before he finally stopped, gasping and choking on air, and fear.
 
He wanted his father.  He wanted his father.
 
Exit.

#R28-9

She didn't have to chase for very long. It was clear -from the moment Gilligan spun around- that she had achieved her goal. He was terrified, focused only on leaving her forest. The stench of his fear was proof enough. Iopah charged after wildly, blood on her muzzle and fear in her nostrils. She didn't much care what explanation the youth gave to her violent actions. The worst the better, she reasoned. The alpha would willing embrace the facade of a deranged blood-fiend if it kept Gilligan away for fear of his death.

The woman lunged forward one more time, fangs snapping at his heels in warning, then came to a stiff-legged stop. Gilligan was still running. He didn't even turn around. A salmon tongue cleaned the blood from her lips and the woman could only hope the injury she caused would result in a permanent reminder. The forest was still and quiet, save for the distance strum of the fleeing wolf's feet. Even the damnable squirrels seemed shocked by the display.

She panted for her a minute, then parted dark lips to send a ragged howl after him. He was not welcome here, not whilst his existence seemed so tied to the humans. Hackles rose in defensive blades as she turned around. Several years was not long enough to remove her anger and fear for them. This was something she needed to discuss with her wolves. Broken Timber Pines needed to be aware of this new danger.

Eventually the wildlife came back out of hiding, but both wolves were long gone by then.

-Fade to Black-