Bone2pick
Minority of One
The following is the opening installment for my newest fantasy short story. Any and all feedback will be appreciated.
A handful of lambs chased each other up and down the grassy hill bank. The rest of the flock, gorged from a full day's graze, lounged under a pair of drooping oaks. The evening neared its end, and soon they would all be herded into their pen to bed. If only they had known wolves were close.
The hungry pack hid at the forest's edge. Their fur, like briar patch shadows, was dark and thistly; and their fangs, dripping with saliva, jutted through their moist black lips. As they spied on the sheep they watched for the shepherd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
From the East a gust of wind swept across the hill. The pack's alpha, fearing it might carry their scent, decided to move before a breeze betrayed them. He slipped the tree line and crept into the tall pasture grass, his packmates following behind him.
Despite being brawny beasts they skulked up the hill as stealthily as wildcats. But the further they climbed the shorter the grass reached. They crawled to a stop when the fur along their backs poked above the waving grass like shark fins. At that same moment the patter of nearing footsteps reached their pricked ears.
Like a crocodile the alpha raised his fearsome, green eyes above the grass. Beyond the oak trees, a dark-haired child skipped over the hill towards the sheep, a basket dangling off her arm. Accompanying her was a russet, wiry terrier.
The flock was on their feet and braying at first sight of the girl. She pulled apple slices from her basket and giggled when the animals swarmed. The fruit treats were gobbled up as quickly as she could fish them out. Her bright-eyed pet had just skirted the livestock when another gust of wind rolled up the pasture.
Both sheep and dog stiffened when their noses hit something savage. The flock reflexively closed ranks around the lambs while the terrier tiptoed towards the camouflaged pack. Noting the change in temper among her furry friends, the child scanned for the cause of their concern. She dropped her basket to better push through the sheep. As soon as she squirmed free of the flock, her dog—as if it stumbled onto the devil himself—cried out and scurried behind legs. Then she spotted one of the monsters. And then she spotted another.
Her shriek split the evening air. The sheep bawled and scrambled over the hill, while the wolves, like ghosts rising from their graves, lifted from their cover. The child couldn't summon the strength to flee; their bestial gaze had turned her muscles to stone. Her dog's incessant yelps, despite coming from just behind her, sounded so very distant. Neither wolf nor girl moved again until the shepherd, with hatchet in hand, sprinted over the hill.
"Wolves!" She cried to him. The blood drained from the shepherd's face when he saw the dreadful creatures, their eyes fixed on the child. It wasn't until the lead wolf turned to face him that he gasped with relief.
He dropped his hatchet, jogged towards the girl, and scooped her up into his strong arms. Then he wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve while she cried into his shoulder.
"It's okay Emeline. They won't hurt us," he said between heavy breaths. "They aren't bad wolves."
"B-but they look so awful, papa."
Daughter still in hand he shooed the hysterical terrier out of the pasture. Then he turned back and faced the wolves from the top of the hill. When she finally lifted her head off his shoulder she appeared utterly confused.
"I know they look scary, darling," he said, "but that's not their fault." Then he gently tapped a finger in the center of her little chest. "It's what's inside here that counts."
He waved the waiting pack closer. The wolves sniffed the air and then ambled further up the hill. "Remember the story I told you about the briar wolves?" Her father asked. "The ones who saved your uncle and I when we were boys?" He smiled when her eyes lit up in recognition. "Well, would you like me to introduce them to you"
She was still shaken, but she eventually nodded. He pointed towards the pack alpha. "The biggest one there, with the brindle chest and long chin whiskers, that's Aclax. He's the leader...And that one there, with the grey neck" He gestured to the one behind Aclax, "that's Orsha."
"I'm sorry we frightened you, Emeline," Orsha growled.
The girl flinched and squeezed her father. "They can talk!"
Her father chuckled. "They sure can darling; they can do a lot of things."
Aclax took another step forward. "Can we speak inside, Osbert?" The wolf grumbled. The shepherd nodded before setting Emeline on her feet.
"All right," Her father said. "Dinner's almost ready, and there's plenty for everyone."
Aclax's lips drew back into what looked like a toothy grin, which made Emeline catch her breath. Then he barked into the air. His packmates, expecting the order, promptly galloped towards him. Once they were huddled together their bodies began to smolder and come apart. In less than a minute each wolf was reduced to a cloud of swirling ash and smoke. The clouds then pooled together to form a murky whirlwind where Aclax had stood. Emeline's eyes widened when she picked out the contours of a man taking shape inside the feral mist. When the whirlwind finally dissipated a powerful looking woodsman was left standing in the pasture. A hunting knife, carved of sharpened bone, tucked in his belt. He smiled and nodded hello at the bewildered Emeline before addressing her father.
"Thank you, friend. We've worked up an appetite."
A handful of lambs chased each other up and down the grassy hill bank. The rest of the flock, gorged from a full day's graze, lounged under a pair of drooping oaks. The evening neared its end, and soon they would all be herded into their pen to bed. If only they had known wolves were close.
The hungry pack hid at the forest's edge. Their fur, like briar patch shadows, was dark and thistly; and their fangs, dripping with saliva, jutted through their moist black lips. As they spied on the sheep they watched for the shepherd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
From the East a gust of wind swept across the hill. The pack's alpha, fearing it might carry their scent, decided to move before a breeze betrayed them. He slipped the tree line and crept into the tall pasture grass, his packmates following behind him.
Despite being brawny beasts they skulked up the hill as stealthily as wildcats. But the further they climbed the shorter the grass reached. They crawled to a stop when the fur along their backs poked above the waving grass like shark fins. At that same moment the patter of nearing footsteps reached their pricked ears.
Like a crocodile the alpha raised his fearsome, green eyes above the grass. Beyond the oak trees, a dark-haired child skipped over the hill towards the sheep, a basket dangling off her arm. Accompanying her was a russet, wiry terrier.
The flock was on their feet and braying at first sight of the girl. She pulled apple slices from her basket and giggled when the animals swarmed. The fruit treats were gobbled up as quickly as she could fish them out. Her bright-eyed pet had just skirted the livestock when another gust of wind rolled up the pasture.
Both sheep and dog stiffened when their noses hit something savage. The flock reflexively closed ranks around the lambs while the terrier tiptoed towards the camouflaged pack. Noting the change in temper among her furry friends, the child scanned for the cause of their concern. She dropped her basket to better push through the sheep. As soon as she squirmed free of the flock, her dog—as if it stumbled onto the devil himself—cried out and scurried behind legs. Then she spotted one of the monsters. And then she spotted another.
Her shriek split the evening air. The sheep bawled and scrambled over the hill, while the wolves, like ghosts rising from their graves, lifted from their cover. The child couldn't summon the strength to flee; their bestial gaze had turned her muscles to stone. Her dog's incessant yelps, despite coming from just behind her, sounded so very distant. Neither wolf nor girl moved again until the shepherd, with hatchet in hand, sprinted over the hill.
"Wolves!" She cried to him. The blood drained from the shepherd's face when he saw the dreadful creatures, their eyes fixed on the child. It wasn't until the lead wolf turned to face him that he gasped with relief.
He dropped his hatchet, jogged towards the girl, and scooped her up into his strong arms. Then he wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve while she cried into his shoulder.
"It's okay Emeline. They won't hurt us," he said between heavy breaths. "They aren't bad wolves."
"B-but they look so awful, papa."
Daughter still in hand he shooed the hysterical terrier out of the pasture. Then he turned back and faced the wolves from the top of the hill. When she finally lifted her head off his shoulder she appeared utterly confused.
"I know they look scary, darling," he said, "but that's not their fault." Then he gently tapped a finger in the center of her little chest. "It's what's inside here that counts."
He waved the waiting pack closer. The wolves sniffed the air and then ambled further up the hill. "Remember the story I told you about the briar wolves?" Her father asked. "The ones who saved your uncle and I when we were boys?" He smiled when her eyes lit up in recognition. "Well, would you like me to introduce them to you"
She was still shaken, but she eventually nodded. He pointed towards the pack alpha. "The biggest one there, with the brindle chest and long chin whiskers, that's Aclax. He's the leader...And that one there, with the grey neck" He gestured to the one behind Aclax, "that's Orsha."
"I'm sorry we frightened you, Emeline," Orsha growled.
The girl flinched and squeezed her father. "They can talk!"
Her father chuckled. "They sure can darling; they can do a lot of things."
Aclax took another step forward. "Can we speak inside, Osbert?" The wolf grumbled. The shepherd nodded before setting Emeline on her feet.
"All right," Her father said. "Dinner's almost ready, and there's plenty for everyone."
Aclax's lips drew back into what looked like a toothy grin, which made Emeline catch her breath. Then he barked into the air. His packmates, expecting the order, promptly galloped towards him. Once they were huddled together their bodies began to smolder and come apart. In less than a minute each wolf was reduced to a cloud of swirling ash and smoke. The clouds then pooled together to form a murky whirlwind where Aclax had stood. Emeline's eyes widened when she picked out the contours of a man taking shape inside the feral mist. When the whirlwind finally dissipated a powerful looking woodsman was left standing in the pasture. A hunting knife, carved of sharpened bone, tucked in his belt. He smiled and nodded hello at the bewildered Emeline before addressing her father.
"Thank you, friend. We've worked up an appetite."
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