Mom

I see Mom limping towards me. 

Her eyes are droopy, and her posture is loose, a luxury she hasn't had in such a long time. Her yellow coat shines golden in the setting sun. The dark fur on her tail turns brown. The coat had helped us hide and hunt. But now, it locks predators in.

Her left paw is injured. She got that injury while running away from them. She had tripped; that was all. At least, that was what she had said. But the scar was deep. It had bled for days. Her auburn gash on her back also happened that day. 

The field around my mother is barren. The wilted grass turns yellow. The trees are either leafless or dead. Snow sits on top of everything, covering it all in a prim, white sheet of cold. 

I exhale. The breath leaves my black snout, turning into fog. The air smells of dead grass and cold water.

Before the snow, there was tall, stocky green grass that sprouted everywhere. Let us hide well, but now nothing lets us hide. 

Mom found for us this warm, cozy, and deep burrow, perfect for the winter months of hibernation. My brothers and sisters are sleeping inside it.

They're younger than me. I was one of the first litter, and I've seen things.

I was supposed to sleep too. But I couldn’t. A feeling nagged at my fur as I tried to sleep. So, I climbed out of the burrow to the entrance, not bothering to wake my siblings. 

They didn’t need to know I was gone. They didn’t need to know anything.

The dark creeps into the sky, opening a way for little twinkles that burst with light. The moon spreads over the place with a cool, silver light.

A light breeze brushes up against me. It feels cold and refreshing.

Just as the dark envelopes the sky, seven figures appear from the distance. I don't see them that clearly. I squint a little. Figures, the dark, big ones. The figures are covered in a gray coat. Their sharp claws scrape the ground. Their teeth glint with harsh white light. Their legs are big and muscly. The tendons show out from their fur. All the wolves have some kind of scar. All are scattered around the field.

My eyes widen. 

Wolves.

No.

My mind wanders back to the other times these wolves had hurt Mom and me. They always came at the dead of night. Even though they had just eaten deer, they came for us. They never bit me. They did worse.

“Look around. Run,” I shout to my mom. She doesn't hear me. She's too far away. 

The wolf in the middle, the tallest and burliest one of them, has a silver-gray skin and a giant scar on his mouth. He howls once. It's a deep howl that echoes through the place. 

My body freezes. So does my mother's. She turns around to see them. The nearest wolf, a small one with a light gray coat, sneers at her.

Mom starts hobbling faster. 

‘Come on, Mom. Come on,’ I think.

I want to scream it out. To let this sinking feeling rest. But I don't want to wake my siblings up. I don't want them to see it. The thing I've seen so many times. The things they don't ever need to see. 

From the distance, one of the wolves yells, "Whoever gets to the jackal first gets to take a bite!” 

The wolves race towards my mom. They pant, face filled with glee.

Mom hobbles as fast as she can. She stumbles on a snowy rock and winces. She gets up and continues running towards me. Her eyes squeeze shut. The injured leg stays folded on her chest.

My chest hurts. I want to run out to her, but fear shackles me to the safety of the cave. 

A dark gray wolf closes in on my mother. On instinct, I growl. It’s high and throaty. One of the wolves hears it. He stops running and scans the place. I stay frozen, just looking at him.

He locks his yellow, glowing eyes with me too. 

For a terrible moment, everything seems to be stuck. We stare at each other. 

I feel a throbbing in my head. My skull feels too small for my brain.

The wolf makes its way towards me. First, he jogs. But as he gets closer, he becomes faster and faster, until he is almost on top of me.

I can’t concentrate on anything, only the growing outline of the wolf. His brown fur blends into the darkness, but not with the snow.

Suddenly, a yowl pierces the air. The wolf stops in his tracks.

Mom yowls again. She runs faster.

For a moment, her gaze meets mine. A warm feeling flushes in. 

Then she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and halts. 

‘What are you doing?’ I think. 

The biggest wolf orders the others to surround her. 

The brown wolf looks at him, then at me. My heart pounds. I feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. 

He stares at me with a hungry gaze. Licking his lips, he rushes off to join the others.

The silver wolf reaches Mom first. The others come and start surrounding her. I can only help but watch. 

‘Stop. Don’t do this again,’ I think. 

But they don't. They tighten their circle, walking around her. 

Their mouths fill with saliva. 

“The leader won!" shouts one of the wolves.

The air smells like snow, like the cold, like blood.

 Blood? 

My vision snaps back to Mom. 

The silver wolf, the leader, sinks his canines in her skin. 

My mother squeals, tears wet her face. 

The leader takes his teeth out. Red drips from it. Licking his teeth, he shouts to the others, "Well, here's... Enjoy yourself, but not too much. You need to save the jackal for the next time.” 

The others nod.

One by one, each wolf gets their turn. They bite off chunks of my mom's fur. Golden and brown fur shed on the ground. Blood crusts on some of them.

Some of them even go as far as biting into her. 

At first, my mother tries to defend herself. She snaps back at anybody who gets too close. But the wolves just find that more entertaining. They laugh.

Two wolves push her down on the ground. She's lying on her stomach. And I see a little bulge. Her nipples are bigger than usual. 

‘Mom,’ I think. 

“Ooh. Is Mama having more children?” says the second in command, the one with the brown fur, coyly. He laughs. So do the others. “Oh well, dear. We’ll spare you and your child.”

The silver wolf jumps onto my mother and licks her belly. 

“Well, she doesn’t taste that good. Have at it, boys,” he yells. 

The wolves pant with greedy excitement, like seeing their first meal. Their eyes are wide, and their tongues stick out. One by one, they claw her, clawing as hard as they can. They lick her. They play with her.

They have done this too many times before. 

My mom looks at them with horror. So do I.

My chest tightens. I want to stop watching, but I can’t. I need to know how it ends.

Mom’s eyes find me. 

For a long moment, we stare at each other.

I find myself trying to memorize her face. 

Mom gets kicked in the face. Her head drops to the ground with a thud.

“Mom!’ I shout. 

But nobody hears me. Maybe I don't even say it. 

Distantly, my eyes see that the wolves are still playing with her. They shove her from one side to the other, but nothing happens. My mother just lolls around. After a few moments, the silver wolf, who is biting off her pale, pinkish skin, tells everybody to be quiet. A stillness reigns over all of them.

 I hold my breath. 

“Do you hear it?” says the biggest wolf.

 Nobody says a word. He looks down at my mother, her yellow coat shining. He stoops down to her and presses his ear to her mouth. 

“She isn't breathing,” he finally states, matter-of-factly. 

The smiles on the others' faces fall, just a little. 

One of the smaller wolves says, “Oh well, it was worth it.”

The others agree, muttering. The leader chuckles.

”Ugh, guys, we should have just let her live. We would have had more fun later on,” cries the brown wolf, annoyed. 

They saunter off, back from where they came from. 

My heart beats. I exhale, not realizing I'd held my breath for that long.

The whole time, I think to myself, 'She's not breathing. She's not breathing.’

The words sink into my chest, going deeper and deeper. From the fur to the skin, to the muscles, to the bones, it sinks deeper and deeper.

‘Am I not supposed to cry?’ I think. 

But nothing comes out. My eyes are dry, even drier than usual. My chest feels uneasy yet hollow.

The snow around me looks pale. So do the stars and moon. The frigid air seems normal, warm even. The pungent stench of blood surrounds me.

I step out of the safety of my burrow and into the open snow.

My mother’s body is the only thing that seems to have color. Her yellow coat shines as brightly as the moon once did. Blood quietly seeps out from her head, coloring the snow to a deep red.

From behind me, I hear my sister, Layla, ask, “Mira, what's going on?” 

I turn around. For a moment, I think it’s Mom.

She has the same yellow coat and the same brown tail.

Then Layla blinks. Suddenly, the world snaps back to me. The colors are back. 

My heart thumps. 

I hush her.

“Don't say a word. Don't say anything.”

"But there's no one there," she says, her voice full of young innocence.

I don't dare look back.

Instead, I bring her back to the deepest parts of our borough. Mother made the place so complex that nobody will try and find us here. The tunnels swerve off right and left with dead ends and freeways. I steer Layla back into the little chamber where we all sleep, all six of us, counting Mom as well. Five now. 

Reka, Lyra, Jamie, and Beau. All of them are sleeping.

An uneasy feeling cocoons my body.

“I need to go,” I say to Layla. “I need to go back.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. She has a soft, squeaky voice that echoes down the chamber. 

My voice cracks. She tilts her head.

“What's happening?” She rubs her paw against her eyes. 

I hesitate for a moment.

“N-Nothing,” I stutter. 

“You're sleepy. Just go to bed.”

I lay her down next to Reka and wait for her to sleep. It doesn't take much time. When she's about to fall asleep, I sneak away. 

I climb back up to the entrance and walk to my mother.

Her body lies in a fetal position, just like a baby. Her yellow fur is sprinkled with snow.

Her scars look pale and blue. The blood in the snow is almost covered by a new layer of it.

I put my snout in the crook of space in between her chin and chest.

A shine of brown catches my eye. I turn around to see the brown wolf. The silver wolf stands behind him.

They creep closer to me. 

“Well, who do we have here?” asks the brown wolf.

“It’s the daughter of that.” The silver wolf points his snout at my mom.

A hot feeling enters my body. My eyes burn. 

“What do you mean by ‘that’?” My voice rises with every syllable. A sharp tone seeps into it.

“Ooh, feisty,” chuckles the silver wolf.

“Should we start with her too?” questions the brown wolf.

The whole world should go tipsy. Everything should break. But it doesn’t. Instead, I feel strong. My bones feel sturdy and my muscles strong.

"Shut up," I say. My throat feels dry.

I slam myself into the brown wolf, knocking him down.

I nip his stomach, then bite him. The metal taste of blood fills my mouth.

The silver wolf just stays put, enjoying the show. His face holds a small smile. There’s not even a hint of pity in his eyes. 

Wretched wolves.

The brown wolf, meanwhile, whimpers a little. His tone is a playful one. He stands up, shaking the snow off.

“This one’s got teeth,’ he snickers. “I’m in the mood for something fun. Her mother was no good." 

"Leave her. She'll be more fun when she grows up," states the silver wolf. He stares at me for a long moment, as if he’s imagining the future.

He turns and leaves. The brown wolf stares at me longingly, then runs after him.

They disappear into the dark.

I sigh. The hot feeling leaves me. Mom is still in the fetal position. She still shines the brightest out of everything.

I sit down next to her, curling myself so every inch of my back touches her.

Her body is cold. Colder than the icy wind that blows on me.

My head brushes her lips. It’s so cold.

My body shivers. It longs to return to the cave, to feel its warmth. I force myself to stay here.

I can feel Mom. And the unborn baby. They’re still emitting warmth. Or is it just me?

I curl up even further. My tail reaches my head. 

The blood smells disgusting. I get used to it.

Soon, the cold takes me. Snowflakes fall from the sky. Onto me. Soon, I’m covered in snow. I don’t mind the cold, nor do I mind the smell.

It feels good.

All of a sudden, my vision becomes blurry. My eyes droop. Every tense muscle loosens. I’m sleepy. So sleepy. I want to sleep forever, just like Mom.

Just as I succumb to it, I remember Layla asking where Mom is. I remember seeing Reka, Lyra, Jamie, and Beau sleeping together in the burrow. 

The warm burrow.

Slowly, I stand up. 

I say goodbye to Mom and head back to the burrow.

When I arrive, Layla is waiting for me. Her sleepy eyes lighten up as she sees me. She pounces on me. 

“You took so long!”

“I know.”

I slowly move towards my sleeping siblings. Just then, I feel a paw on my shoulder. It's Layla. 

Through her sleepy haze, she asks, “Where's mom?”

My throat tightens. Tears threaten to invade. 

I can't tell her. I won't.

“She’s… somewhere better.” 

Layla blinks and smiles.

“Ok.”

I force a smile too. It wavers, but I don’t let it fall.

“Let’s go to bed now.”