Cold...
Snow...
God, help me!
Who was that man after all?... Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. In the end, I don’t feel anything now. I can’t feel my paws anymore, I don’t feel like I’ll ever make it back. If at least one of us could return to the cave, with what remains of my pack I could still feed my son and his mother… Well… my eyes are growing heavy, God… What was that sound the man let out? It was terrifying. After so many years of hunting, I had never heard that… roar? Maybe a inhuman scream, an innocent despair… Oh God.
…
That cry… I’m remembering now, the high-pitched sound of my little pup… while he wailed at his birth. Could that be it? Well, I don’t really understand how humans work, but that man was way too big to be a human pup.
So much snow… it’s covering the bodies of my pack. Well, that’s it… This was the last hunt, the end of my bloodline. Goodbye, my little one. Forgive me for not being able to bring food to you.
…
The last wolf, the one still waiting for his meal, felt the warmth of his mother fading away. He felt her final breath like a farewell without goodbye—just exhaustion. She no longer breathed. Even warmed, curled up in his mother’s fur inside a frozen cave that reeked of blood, a miserable hole that from the outside showed only snow and the relentless sound of endless frost.
The last wolf stood up and walked toward the cold, the snow, and the emptiness outside. Without a mother, without direction, without any understanding of what life or death even meant—just walking. His nose searching to fill the emptiness in his stomach. There was no meaning, no purpose.
There was something the last wolf caught in his nose: a strong vegetal scent, intense, yet with a certain soft touch as well. It was sweet. It seemed to come from foliage with a powerful aroma, but what remained of its fruit tasted sweet…
The last wolf seemed excited by the smell, but suddenly he sensed… the bitter.
In his nose he caught the scent of blood—the same characteristic smell he had sensed from his mother.
One paw after another, following agonizing steps… it was close.
Excitement turned into something more cautious, instinctively more hesitant about what he would find.
…
Panic began to take over the little one. The cold silenced his jaw, hardened his eyelids.
Fear stood beside him, personified in a presence—real or not, it was hard to bear such pressure. Not knowing what that feeling meant, or why that frozen, bitter liquid would be something bad… but it was there. He could smell it. Sadness, death, fear, and hunger—they were all there. He felt the presence of each one.
He slowed his steps… there it was.
Everyone was saying…
DEVOUR
The sadness on his shoulder held the wolf’s face and, with its fingers, forced a smile onto his jaws.
…
Death tore a piece of flesh from each member of the pack and offered it to the wolf. Fear, with its tiny fingers, covered the wolf’s eyes so as not to frighten him.
…
Hunger had been with the wolf from the very beginning. With one final sigh, it simply gave the command…
And so the wolf did. He fed.
After that, they all vanished, leaving only snow behind.
Goodbye, father. Goodbye, mother. You did everything you could. So spoke the last wolf.
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