It was a deep gnawing hunger. The kind that you hope never affects you. Though I tried as hard as I could, there was no way I was sleeping with such a sensation consuming me. Breathing in deep, I got a stench of my own dirty fur. Hungry and dirty, that's all I was.
Myself and my sister, we were new to the packless life. Young and headstrong, we'd left our parents for thicker herds, and maybe a pack of our own. Unfortunately, life doesn't ever work out that way. We'd gone north, to the tundra. The expansive, blistering cold places that few but the hardiest dare to call home. We'd been stupid to think that the risk was worth the reward. Sure, there were caribou and occasional herds of other ungulates, but for the most part, only rodents inhabited the treeless wastelands.
That's not even the start of the problem. The little detail we forgot to take into account before setting off on our own was that this place already has wolves. Big wolves. Arctic wolves. These animals are built for the endless winter. Sure, we're hardy too, but they're raised here. They know how it works. How to hunt. Me and Ketz, we don't have a clue!
She stirs beside me and I hear her own stomach rumble in the cold. We have to do something. Getting up, I shake off the heavy layer of snow that I'd used to insulate my sleep. Quickly, Ketz follows suit and lifts her nose to the wind. Looking at me sidelong, she jerks her head in the direction of the vast lake we'd been avoiding. It was huge, stretching even further than some territories. At either end, a fast running river flowed with deadly waters. We'd avoided it for the sake of not drowning or freezing, but we'd known for days that a herd of Caribou was resting fitfully on the other side.
Back home, now would be the time for a rallying howl, but the threat of other wolfpacks stops us both. We wouldn't stand a chance! Instead, we look at each other for a moment, coming to a mutual understanding of what the future holds. The lake must be crossed.
It's a slow trek. I lead, carving out a path through the heavy snowfall with my bigger body. Wind whips up the snow, creating a blur of white in front of me. Only the smell of the water guides me as I move ever forward. A blast of cold air shoots up my nose, bringing ice with it. Doing my best to ignore the pain in my snout, I push my shoulders against the roar of the enraged wind and place one foot in front of the other. I am the only contrast in the storm. My black fur pulls at my skin as the wind claws at my legs. I bare my teeth in rage and fear, and press on.
Slowly, the lake comes closer. First, it is nothing but the occasional darkness on the horizon, hidden behind a curtain of murderous white. Finally, as my strength wanes further, it comes into full view. From behind me Ketz leaps with joy and bounds forward. I am glad that she still holds on to her strength. Mine is dying fast. My reluctance tells her of my exhaustion, and she glances back at me in concern. She knows I need to rest.
Not far from her, near the edge of the water, I curl up and breathe deeply. My limbs shake. It will take me some time before I can swim. She looks somberly excited. Her concern for me trumping the hunting drive she feels at the smell of the not-too-distant caribou.
It is while I rest that a miracle happens. The wind subsides to nothing but a calm breeze, and the sky opens up to cast down the pale light of the sun on the landscape. Days are short this far north in the winter. At certain points, the sun does not rise at all. I look up at the great blue sky and appreciate the thin warmth that engulfs me. The strength of the sun is with me. Ketz feels it too. She rises, white fur standing on edge and glowing in the light.
With one last glance at me, she sticks one paw into the water. Then, with the grace only our kind can display, she leaps forward. Not to be left out, I come up behind her and leap forward with all my might.
The water hits like the blizzard. Cold and forlorn. But the sun is on my back. That alone gives me the strength to kick my legs.
