From the first flake that had fallen, Swift loved snow. But on this cold afternoon he wished he had learned more cusses as he labored at a task severely impeded by it.
Stupid—hng!
He grunted. Can't you just...!
He strained and toiled, gritting his teeth as he tugged and pulled and dragged and summoned all the strength he had grown into thus far. Lousy sku—AAH!
The unbroken blanket of snow that draped across these rolling hills made travel look deceptively easy while hiding many tricks. Swift had fallen into one: a concealed low spot much deeper than its surroundings and not nearly as packed. The boy found himself scrabbling to haul himself out of the hole as the soft powder refused him egress.
Half swallowed by the same trap: a large moose skull; part of its spine; and two massive boards for antlers.
When Swiftlet noticed this, he let out a loooooong, defeated groan.
It was sheer luck Watcher didn't find herself in the same predicament. Her paws carried her over the hills with ease, digits lightly spread to mimic snowshoes as she traversed the fresh powder. So far, she hadn't encountered any air pockets to mire her and she knew better than to travel close to trees where a tree well might swallow her up without a sound. Sheer luck kept her moving, but it was not luck that brought Watcher to Swift.
For some time now she had been loosely following the scent of another on the breeze, and if that wasn't enough, the boy's loud grunts and expletives would summon any wolf within half a mile. She approached him at a lofty trot, surveying the situation from a short distance with pricked ears and a curious tilt to her head. Somehow, he had got himself trapped, and he wasn't the only one.
She came to a halt when she spotted an antler sticking up out of the snow. Hm,
she mused, dropping her haunches casually to the snow and fixing Swift with a pitying expression. She needed time to think. They could almost have been twins if his fur was a little more red. Maybe that shred of similarity was why she paused to consider how she might help this otherwise unfamiliar wolf in what seemed to be a futile task. there's nothing for it. You're a dead man.
Though he hadn't managed to bring it far, dragging his treasure home had spent a lot of his energy and the sight of it lodged in the pitfall had robbed him of a lot of his will. Swiftlet laid his chin on the snow, looking like a crocodile with just his head and some of his backside sticking out of the powder.
Grumpy-faced, he stewed on his poor luck briefly before another wolf came to look down on his plight with pity. She was a younger wolf, but she was older and bigger than him. He was quick to straighten in an attempt to appear in-control to her, but when she spoke his ears dropped and his expression fell to horror. He was gullible enough to believe her, but so too was he defiant enough to challenge the notion; he would wrestle his own shadow if he thought it was in his way.
No I'm not!
Swift narrowed his eyes at the stranger, huffing a breath that stirred the flakes beneath his nose. You just want my head!
He accused.
The way his expression collapsed in on itself, only to spring back to suspicion, might have been amusing had Watcher not genuinely been considering ways to help this hapless fool. His accusation drew her lips into a smile that showed the mere tips of her teeth.
Wolf brains are delicious, you know,
she said ominously, doing her best to engage her inner Carrion. Her littermate would probably have said something like heads roll downhill but moths only fly up or something weird like that, but Watcher wasn’t creative enough to emulate her cryptic manner of speech as well. Do you want to know how many I’ve eaten?
All the while, she wracked her brain for ideas. What could serve to drag this wolf out of his snow trap? A big stick, perhaps? It might take some time to find one sturdy enough that she could still get a grip on...
Not my head! The—
He stopped and drew his mouth tight as his eyes fixed on her. It had taken a moment for the stranger's words to sink in. It would take longer for him to mull them over. Swift was conflicted; not because he wondered whether to believe her or not but because two parts of himself quarrelled with whether to feel afraid or intrigued.
Glancing sideways, the pup almost gave in to the sensibility to be unsettled by the implied threat, but then his expression opened and he leaned forward.
Yup.
Tell me!
Oh. She hadn't expected that response.
There was a moment's hesitation during which an astute wolf might pick up on the fact she was lying, but Watcher was not the sort of wolf to think much about the perceptiveness of others. She had already written Swift off as an idiot, a wolf who would risk his hide and health for a trinket. More than all my toes combined,
she told him. Some younger than yours.
Lucky for you I already ate,
she finished, hoping that would suffice to tie a neat little bow on that lie. She lurched to her feet and made as though to leave him, but returned with a sizable stick held carefully in her jaws. It was more of a branch than a stick, but flimsy and thin on the distal. Watcher herself doubted whether it would be any use.
Grab,
she instructed through a mouthful of wood, thrusting as much of the stick in Swift's direction as she could without throwing out her neck and shoulders.
When she started to leave he was still processing, his impressionable brain deciding to shuffle her into the category of cool. Hey, wait!
He called after her, realizing he was being left stuck in the snow. But she was already moving out of ear-shot. Swift groaned, thinking himself abandoned.
In her brief absence, the boy tussled with the drifts and lost again. He was slowly starting to believe he really was doomed when she returned. Offered a stick, Swift furrowed his brows while his eyes flicked between it and her.
I don't want your stick! I'm not going to trade. I told you it's mine and you can't have it!
What a fucking moron.
Watcher's face morphed from determined to blank to downright stupefied as the meaning behind his words filtered through her brain. Not only did this young buck value that huge chunk of bone and antlers more than his life, but he couldn't recognize help when it smacked him in the face. Which it nearly did when her jaws slackened and the stick wheeled abruptly between her teeth.
She spat it into the snow and lashed her tail once for emphasis. You will starve and die in that hole with that skull,
she proclaimed, unless you grab and let me help you.
She hoisted the stick and shoved it in his direction once more.
Watcher didn't think there was any way to get both him and the skull out. That thing was a lost cause, impressive as it was. Maybe he had better ideas and could retrieve it, but it was the least of her concerns. Besides, if she wanted his prize, she was confident she could wreck him. She had no proof, but her youth and upbringing served to make her feel invincible indeed.
Swift clenched his eyes and twitched as the stick nearly took him in the snout.
She spoke and his mouth gaped. He was absolutely going to protest. Suggest that he could eat the skull and wait for the snow to melt. Or tell her that his mother would find him soon enough. But he definitely couldn't tell her that, and the thought of looking so utterly uncool sent his thoughts scrambling.
Finding nothing to say in the end, the boy heaved a big sigh. Fiiiiine.
He resigned, lurching forward to bite onto the stick.
The boy conceded, but not without a dose of what Watcher interpreted as attitude. Her mouth was blessedly full or she might have grit her teeth and shared something of her real thoughts. A stunned lemming had more self-preservation and survival instincts than this guy. Not for the first time, Watcher wondered why she was bothering to help him.
Eventually he would grow up. He would procreate. There would be more imbecilic wolves in the world, out there getting stuck in pockets of deep snow in pursuit of some silly bones, because of her act of kindness today.
Ugh.
When she felt Swift had a firm enough grip, she dug her paws into the snow and threw her weight backward with such force that her hindquarters dipped down. In her head, she envisioned hauling the boy right up out of the snow as though he was feather-light, but this wasn't some Disney movie. For all the smug superiority that Watcher felt when comparing this wolf to a braindead buffalo, she wasn't much older or wiser than he was. She was small for her species. She had plenty of hunting expertise, but that hardly lent her any advantages in the strength department.
Watcher pulled again, feeling something pop uncomfortably in her lower back. Oh, she'd regret that later. Why're you so heavy?
she grumbled through a mouthful of splintering wood. She'd regret the slivers in her gums later, too.
His response was garbled around the stick.
I'm not! You just need to pull harder!
But there was a very good reason his would-be-rescuer struggled to actually rescue him besides her smaller physique. Beneath the snow, the stubborn boy managed to hook a limb around one of the main beams of the moose's antler, adding its immensely dragging weight to his own. Swiftlet had no intention of abandoning his treasure, but fortunately for him the mysterious forces of the world had no intention of abandoning him to his own stupidity.
His paw slipped in perfect timing with another good heave from the stranger. Disconnected from the moose head, Swiftlet was plucked free from the trap in an unceremonious fashion. His face plowed into the snow before he clambered to his paws and found better footing.
Woohoo!
Swiftlet howled with excitement. But his celebration came to an abrupt halt when he saw the mighty boards sticking out of the drifts. Still in that damned hole.
His ears dropped. His shoulders sagged.
And once again, he grooooaaaned.
Roamer's only response was a muffled grunt. Why she had ever stopped to help this poor fool, she would never know. Even in pondering it later, she would be unable to identify the source of her altruism. It was a good day to be Swiftlet Redhawk, apparently, and nothing more.
Her lower spine screamed as she threw her weight back once more. This time, the juvenile came with her, popping up out of the snow only to faceplant at the edge of it. Roamer dropped the stick at once and reeled back into a sit that sent blessed relief flowing out through her muscles. She worked her tongue against her gums, identifying several bits of wood that would need time to work their way out.
To Swift's celebration, she merely arced a brow. Roamer wasn't that much older than Swift, but with a pretentious attitude having come from being raised among those who trained their youth from a very young age to be disciplined and responsible, she thought him rather childish indeed. This was only compounded when he posture flagged and his voice came droning out of him.
Retrieve it in the spring,
she advised, and she was hardly able now to keep a hint of irritation from creeping into her voice. Her back hurt something awful and she half-expected the idiot boy to rush back in after his trophy. Maybe there will be more bones then,
she added as an afterthought that might soothe the blow of her tone.
More bones from other idiots like you, she thought to herself.
The stranger might have been kind of cool but she was kind of not fun either. She was a bit of a stick in the mud. Or an antler in the snow as the case may be. He heard the irritation in her words and resented it, but her gentler follow up had the intended affect of soothing his ruffled feathers. Maybe there would be more bones then.
Swift wagged his tail at the thought. Then he hiked a leg and signed his name to the half-swallowed skull, careful not to tread too close to where the ground dipped and ensnared. Regardless of how stubborn and flippant he may have been about the situation, he had learned a lesson about the hidden dangers of winter.
Once he had appraised his claim, Swiftlet looked back to his rescuer. Thanks.
He said with a nod. But I would have got out eventually,
he asserted with a shit-eating grin.
She watched as he sprayed the skull with his scent, her inner curiosity about his attachment to it hidden behind a veil of bored disinterest. At least his marking would serve to ward other wolves away from the deep snow. Huh. Swift was a contributing member of society after all!
Watcher dipped her muzzle to accept his thanks, only to freeze when he claimed he would have got himself out just fine. Oh really?
she challenged, torn between feeling indignant about her sore back or amused with this guy's confidence. She landed somewhere in the middle and all at once decided she had had enough of Swift's company. You might as well get it now, then, there's nothing stopping you,
she said, turning smoothly on her heel and casting him a quick grin over her shoulder before flicking her tail in a see ya later signal and leaving him to ponder his prize.
He was determined, but if he got himself stuck again, she wouldn't be there to help a second time.