No personal entry. Nothing to say.
Blinding snow. That’s all the human could see. He knew the beast he had loosed his final arrow on now hunted him. He could hear it. He could feel breathing down his neck.
He had thought it to be a lone wolf hunting before winter set in. Thinking its pelt would make a fine gift he notched his arrow. The site of a second wolf sticking its head up stunned him, but did not deter him. He figured it’d run should its partner die, he saw no reason why they wouldn’t run from an unseen force. The wolf moved out of the cover of the bushes slightly, his mind picking out the beast he saw too late, the arrow was already flying.
He had turned to run, stealth wouldn’t be an option. The creature was faster, stronger and definitely a hunter. He had heard stories of werewolves. Now he sat in a small makeshift shelter. The hastily built structure barely sheltered him from the win and cold, a fire had been impossible to build. Curling up hoping to keep warm through the night, he sat watching and hoping his structure would stand all night.
Dante forced his way forwards. The human had some kind of luck that would not go away. That luck had caused Dante to lose his trail more than once. The first time Dante had neglected his hunger for too long and had to veer off the loud course set by the human. He had a bit of his own luck and found a small herd of deer in which he promptly chased down and managed, after a painful kick in the side, to force a young deer from it’s parents protection.
The human’s second escape came in the form of Cay’s storm. Somehow the wind and snow turned Dante around. Finally realizing he was lost, Dante huddled down in a cave, a cave that for one reason or another bore the scent of Maia. That night he was tortured with their last encounter. The morning brought a dim sun, more snow, and a buried trail. He plodded on without a clue for days before the wind finally brought the humans scent. The scent led to a trail, the trail had been easy enough to follow.
“Over a month now,” Dante growled in the wind. What was supposed to be a quick chase had turned into over a month long trek. Dante’s mind turned to thoughts of Cay for the hundredth time. Jors would punish him, Jors would punish him harshly. And not a doubt ever occurred that it hadn’t happened already. However Dante forced any feelings of regret down, he couldn’t let worry blind him. Anger seemed to be doing that just fine.
“Once this human is dead, I’ll…” Dante’s growl was interrupted by a dark shape. An unnatural shape nestled between two trees. A shift of wind brought piercing snow and the scent of the human to Dante’s nose. He found the hunter. Now he could end this.
Silence. The human snapped his head up in fear. The sound of the structure erupting in a flurry of snow and wood was lost to the howling winds. The debris scattered soundlessly into the dark, the hunted scrambling out of the wreckage leaving a trail of dark red in the snow. Using the branch of a tree to support himself, he turned to catch what had happened.
He squinted, the snow wracking his face so as to deny him from seeing the cause. His ears caught a deep growl. His eyes widened in horror. A scream never escaped his lips.
The next morning brought a sun attempting to defy the dull gray clouds. The winds from the storm had passed; the air still sparkled with falling snow. Although now it seemed to be a beautiful site instead of dark and threatening.
Dante’s eyes snapped open, a blanket of white covered his vision, unable to make out any details, and he panicked and leapt up onto his hind legs. He saw, amidst the cloud of disturbed snow, that he had been buried by the storm. The dim light did nothing to prevent him from looking around. Not a trace remained of the human’s structure. What remained of the human, what hadn’t been devoured by the hungry wolf, he assumed was buried in a manner similar to his own. Snorting grumpily at the though of the human, he glanced down at his appearance. His fur, he noted, was longer, un-groomed to the point he reminded himself of Cay and dirty. Shaking the snow off, he faced a random direction. One he hoped was not from where he came, and plodded quietly into the forest.
DantesTheDivine Community Member 
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