Draft: 61 A Fight of Instincts

Nose in the air, the wolf zeroed in on the scent. He wasn’t familiar with that particular type of animal, but the tanginess of death was hard to ignore. He had found some deer with that scent on them a week ago, still alive, their eyes taking him in with frightened expressions as they lay paralyzed.

He might have felt bad about it, tearing into them without a care for how they hurt, still alive while being gorged up by him and his pack, but that would be weird. He was a wolf. Wolves were predators. If he felt bad about things like that, there would be no pups in the spring. It was his duty.

Still, in an uncharacteristic move, the wolf had stopped the feasting for a second in order to break the doe’s neck. He knew that would kill her instantly.

Everything had changed around a week ago while he was gnawing on a bone, he brought back with him from a hunt. It had been a particularly hard one where the whole pack of seven had had to pitch in to tire the goblin. They were hard to catch when they lived on the trees, but he had learned about their vulnerability on the ground. Still, it was a particularly large goblin, and it had been frightfully fast. It was a difficult hunt.

Since then, he had started questioning things. Facts of life. Wondering about subjects he had no business thinking of. Was it fair that only him and the alpha female had pups? Practical, sure. It was also instinctive, not to mention evolutionarily superior since they were clearly the top two wolves in the pack. But was it fair? He didn’t really think so.

Other things came to mind. Why was he the alpha? He was the biggest, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the smartest wolf in the pack, at least until that bone. That was his litter mate. But he was small, one of the runts. Even now, recognizing that his littermate should be above him in the pack structure, his instincts screamed against him.

No! He’s too small. He’s too weak. He is a subservient wolf. He would bear his teeth at his littermate when he tried to grab a bite too early. He was the omega while he was the alpha. The omega would wait his turn. After all, he hadn’t contributed as much to the hunt.

The alpha let out a howl, summoning everyone to him. Tonight, they would feast! The smell of death was in the air, and he wouldn’t need to wonder about the omega.

Maybe the bones would let him be smarter, too. Smart enough that he would be able to make sense of all these unbidden thoughts. He was pretty sure he had gotten smarter since that first bone. He wasn’t sure if it made anything easier, though. He’d have to be smarter in order to judge that. It was truly a mystery, but he wanted to get smarter right now, so he would. At least he would try.

His pack around him, he let them smell the air too, watching their excited expressions as they started pacing in anticipation. They were smart enough to make the connection between their previous meal and this smell. Still, it wouldn’t do to approach without caution.

With another howl, which they all joined in on, he and his alpha female began their methodical trot over to the direction with the highest concentration of the smell. It was further than he expected, and he let his tongue out, letting himself slightly relax and enjoy it. He might be smart now, but he was still a wolf. He always liked runs.

Now the smell was a bit more dispersed, they were getting closer to their prey. He crouched low and started to inch forward. His muscles were taught, ready to spring into action the second he spotted his target. In practiced, experienced motions, he went through the underbrush, being careful not to make too much noise. Deer were particularly sensitive to sound, he didn’t know if the water he heard would obscure his footsteps enough. There was still some chance this hunt would result in a chase.

Suddenly, the smell got really strong, and the underbrush opened up to reveal the riverbank. Staying in the shadows, he let his head peak out to stare at his prey. It wasn’t a deer.

The animal was laying on the ground, apparently still unable to move like the last animal he had hunted with that smell. Looking like some deformed, large goblin, the alpha didn’t know what to make of it. His instincts were telling him this animal was weak. That if it were to fit into his pack it would be an omega, like his littermate.

His newfound smarts were telling him something very, very different. This animal was dangerous. It had much more power than he could appreciate. He didn’t know what it was about it. That the thing seemed so totally unconcerned about laying out in the open like that was unnerving. It didn’t have claws, or nails, or big teeth. Nothing about the animal’s was intimidating, yet his brain told him something was off.

For once, his new smarts were winning the battle. He started to back up when his alpha female shot out of the underbrush beside him. She didn’t know what he did. But he was loyal. He would fight alongside her to the death. That was also a fight against his instincts. Again, the smarts won. The battle against the strange goblin had begun.