Paws pounded against the soft earth. Ears twitched at every sound. Hunt or be hunted. That was the law of the land.

Howl! Low pitch, but a touch gravelly. That must be Torvar. He and his sons have been badgering Elwin for months.

This is what he got for hunting in their territory. It may belong to the pack, but the woodland elves hold claim to these lands and he used to be one before the elves banished him. Hunger drove Elwin, and he had to take the risk.

Howl! Louder this time. Shiro, the eldest. He always led the charge whenever they were on the hunt. Every wolf had a unique voice that made it easy to tell them apart.

Elwin sensed his wolf's spirit thrashing within its cage inside his mind. He had no other choice. He released the spirit and let his animal instincts take command.

Shiro leaped out of the bushes, tackling from the side. Teeth cut into his shoulder. Elwin used the momentum to twist his body and fling the wolf off him. He wasted no energy pouncing and sinking his canines into Shiro’s larynx and bit deep.

Howl! The voice sounded tentative. Torvar brought his youngest son Edon along today.

No chance to enjoy the kill. He needed to get back to his cave.

Too late. 

The fight cost him time, allowing Torvar and Edon to reach him. Elwin held his ground and watched Edon creep closer, ears pulled back, mouth open in a snarl. His father sat in the opposite direction blocking any escape.

Elwin regained enough control from the spirit and looked for an opening. He growled at Edon and displayed his teeth in a challenge. The young pup's lack of experience compounded with his impatience cost him. Edon charged for his throat. Elwin swiped his paw across Edon’s muzzle and pushed it away. He dashed in and sunk his canines into the wolf's hind leg.

Howl! Torvar ordered a retreat. The pack leader never fought such battles himself. He held his ground as Torvar disappeared into the forest with Edon trailing with a limp. 

Elwin existed within a spirit wolf after Silvertree, the wood elf’s god, transformed him. It took years for Elwin to regain his identity and dominate the spirit. When the memories of his past returned, it nearly broke him.

He squatted on his haunches and the vision of that fateful day arrived. He let the memory bring him back to the event that ruined his life.
 
                                                                ***

Elwin, Trivana and Chiyan were on patrol along the border of their territory inside the Whispering Meadows. It had been early morning in the first days of springtime.

Still youthful at age fifty, Elwin followed the two veterans. This had been his initial outing as a scout. He wanted nothing more than to honor his family and prove himself. He spent decades training before they had deemed him worthy.

None of this mattered when challenged by the evil that lurked in the shadows including the beasts who crawled from the abyss. Such a monster confronted the three wood elves. He noticed the sun’s rays shied away from the darkness that hid its body. Elwin now stared death in the face, and it stared back.

Trivana and Chiyan reacted on instinct and charged the creature wielding their curved blades. Unable to see its true form, they sliced into the shadows only to come up empty.

Chiyan had been the first to go. Sharp claws protruded from the obscurity and raked across his chest. Coughing up blood, the elf faced Elwin and spoke one word.

“Run.”

Chiyan fell to the ground holding his stomach. The beast rammed into the injured elf smashing him into a nearby tree, swung around, and charged into Trivana. She flew back, skidding along the dirt. Trivana stood up eyeing the creature and walked between Elwin and the monster. She too gazed at Elwin and said, “Survive Elwin. Don’t let our deaths be in vain.”

Elwin ran.

He could hear Trivana scream in defiance against the creature. The wood elf never glanced back.