Shyr Paes (Wolf dream)

It was not good here. The silver gray wolf growled, unsettled, as her claws clacked softly on the wooden floor. She paced restlessly about the small room, occasionally giving the various furnishings a cursory sniff. From time to time she would go to the door to paw at the gap beneath it, whining softly. Continuing with her agitated patrol, she paused to inspect the leather packs resting on the floor near the beds. They smelled strongly of the strange two-legs in whose company she now found herself.

One pack, smaller than the rest, smelled of the little two-legs, the one who had spoken with her, oddly enough, the one who commanded the strange cold-blood. She liked how his pack smelled and pawed at it with determination until she could thrust her nose within. An assortment of earthy aromas tantalized her nostrils and she snuffled deeply for several moments, her tail wagging with pleasure. The scents brought her vivid images of the forest and earth and running free, but there were other smells, too. Smells of the two-legs and their strange sprawling dens. She wuffed to herself and snorted, moving on to one of the larger packs.

The first one smelled of the largest two-legs, or reeked, rather. It was heavily stained with his sweat and grime. The scent of the young Da Wa'ya, the pup, was strong upon it, too. The wolf chewed on the leather a bit, rubbing her head against the pack, in a effort to cover the scent of the pup's with her own. Finally satisfied, she left it, the flap and strap a bit mangled, and moved on to the last pack.

Now this one...she pawed at it, then sniffed it thoroughly, her tail wagging slightly. This one belonged to TreeWalker, the other one who had spoken with her. He puzzled her. He seemed to be a two-legs, and yet...he wasn't. There was something of the Wa'ya about him. A sense of freedom and wildness the other two-legs lacked. And he had shown her the Wa'ya were his brothers and sisters. She found it hard to believe, but she had seen it, it must be so.

Growling irritably, she dragged the pack over to a corner and laid down, curling her body around it, draping her paws across it possessively. She sniffed it some more, as if the scents alone could help her understand, but she was none the wiser. She yawned, exposing strong, sharp white teeth, and dropped her head to her paws. Her eyes drooped sleepily. She was feeling better after finally getting some food and water, but she was still very tired from her ordeal. She shifted a foreleg, whimpering softly when the movement aggravated a still painful bruise. Her lips lifted in a silent snarl as she drifted into sleep and remembered...

...running through the woods, the crisp, cool air of night in her nose, moonlight glimmering off her fur, the feel of good earth and leaves beneath her silent paws. She was in pursuit of a small deer and gaining on her prey when a soft hissing noise came to Tyl's ears. The deer unexpectedly floundered and the wolf smelled blood scent. She came upon the young buck thrashing on the ground, a strange straight stick protruding from his torso just behind his foreleg. Tyl sprang upon him, grabbing him by the throat, her teeth biting through his neck. Warm blood sprayed across her face and buck struggled no more.

She lifted her head to the moon, preparing to howl her thanks to the buck for his sacrifice, when several two-legs descended upon her. She had only seen them from afar before, always cautiously giving their kind a wide berth. The chase of the hunt and its excitement had made her careless. They made strange guttural noises and approached her. She snarled, laying her ears back, as two menaced her from both flanks with long sharp pointy sticks and the other held up what appeared to be several strange-looking vines twisted together.

With a practiced flick, the two-legs hurled the vines over her. She tried to dodge out of the way, but the spears of the other two-legs forced her back. The net fell over her and the more Tyl struggled, the more entangled she became.

Making their strange grunts, they closed about her. One of the spear bearers attempted to pick her up, his hand coming too close to her snapping jaws. He screamed as Tyl sank her teeth into his flesh, his skin tearing as he jerked his hand away. Tasting his blood upon her tongue, Tyl snarled again as the bitten two-legs crouched nearby uttering a string of sounds, nursing his wounded hand.

The one who had thrown the strange vines uttered several short sharp sounds, showing his teeth as he glanced at the injured two-legs. Turning his gaze to Tyl, he hefted a club, then brought it crashing down upon her.

She snarled, then yelped, then she knew nothing...

A jolt brought the world back to her. Tyl found herself in a small square cave made of thick sticks spaced closely together. She barely fit in it, the bars pressing painfully against her battered body. She tried to stand and found she could not. She became aware of something heavy about her neck. She shook her head and pawed at it, but it would not come off. It smelled faintly of earth and stone, but a strong sense of the two-legs permeated it as well as the strange linked circles that fell from it and clanked upon the floor of her cage. Growling, Tyl attacked the bars, but they were also made from whatever strange stone encircled her neck. Her teeth proved useless against them. A two-legs passed nearby, rapping her sharply across the muzzle with a whip handle and she ceased her attacks, curling up into a sullen ball as tightly as she could.

Her cage rested on the back of a wagon which stood clustered among several others wagons, all bearing some sort of items, boxes, bolts of cloth and the like. A few, like hers, bore animals--some pigeons, chickens, dogs, even snakes and lizards, their cries and calls joining the growing din made by the two-legs as more and more of them appeared.

Some little two-legs approached Tyl's cage, poking her with sticks, laughing when she snarled at them savagely. This only served to cause them to torment her anew until her fury became so great she attacked the bars with slavering jaws, heedless of how the metal hurt her teeth. She was hungry, sore, but even more, thirst seared her throat like fire, none of the conditions doing much to improve her demeanor. When a big two-legs finally came and drove the little ones away, Tyl snarled at him, too. He merely laughed, rapping his club against the bars in warning, so she subsided, lying back down to wait.

A night and most of the following day past. By now, Tyl was weak with hunger and thirst. She didn't even bother to snarl or move when little two-legs appeared again to tease her. Late in the evening, a strange two-legs came to the wagon and stood making odd sounds to the one who occasionally chased the little ones away. The stranger stepped close to her cage. He stared at her and Tyl mustered up a snarl, trying to rise to her feet. The two-legs bared his blunt teeth at her, and nodding, tossed a leather object to the other two-legs that clinked when he caught it...

Tyl twitched and snarled in her sleep, remember the ensuing battle that occurred when she was released from her cage to be taken away by the two-legs that had bought her. The battle that had left her beaten, muzzled and chained to be dragged to the horrible den TreeWalker had helped free her from...

There, she had been caged anew. The cage was somewhat larger, but was flanked by cages containing other beasts most foul--filthy Sku Wa'ya, the hyenas, and tainted Ne Wa'ya, the worgs. She was given some water, which she drank thirstily even though it was tepid and brackish. But she was given no food and one day, when she was dragged down a tunnel of this miserably wretched den and released into the strange big clearing, she ran down the screaming little two-leg female she found there with a swiftness fanned by starvation. Even the loud cries of the multitude of the two-legs encircling the clearing did not distract her from her meal.

Tyl did not understand hell in the sense that humanoids and other sentient races did, but if she had, she certainly would have thought that was where she was. She was not fed. Her only meals came from her conquests in the arena. Many times, she was so badly injured from the fights, she was unable to eat anything before she was dragged back to her cage. In a way, this was a mercy. Tyl didn't really wish to feed on most of the creatures she fought...

Tyl jerked and awoke with a snarl, springing to her feet. The room was dark and cool. Her ears twitched at faint sounds of two-legs coming from beyond the door. She padded over to the window, searching the sky for the moon, but if it was there, it was obscured by darkness. Her hackles rose and she whined low in her throat. She wished TreeWalker would return. It was not good here. Something bad was coming. She knew it.