Thrown From the Rock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about the leader of a pack of wolves, Fang, and a encounter with a man from ancient Sparta.

Submitted: February 18, 2019

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Submitted: February 18, 2019

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Thrown From the Rock

 

by Matthew Bissonnette

 

 

 

 

 

 

I, Fang, was leader of my pack because I was strong. The wilderness in which we lived; a wilderness in a land the human men called Sparta; was a cruel heartless place where we had many enemies. There was other animals, starvation, cold of winter, illness; but mostly it was the man creature that threatened us. We where what the man creature called wolves; they called us fearsome creatures but I had heard tales from other animals and the tales indicated to me that there was no creature more fearsome; more senseless then the man beast which threatened us. Our pack which I led only survived because we worked together; the bonds of both blood and custom united us and it was the unity of our pack which helped us survived. Because alone in this wilderness we would not survive; but the bonds of blood and custom which held our pack together was what help us survive the wilderness.

I, Fang was the name given to me by my father who led the pack before I, was the largest wolf. It was I who led the hunt of prey to feed ourselves, it was I that defended us from any threat. And it was I that had the weight of the responsibility of our survival placed upon my shoulders; but I was confident since my shoulders could carry much weight.

One night I had left the den, a cave in the wilderness where my pack now slept, and wandered through the wilderness. It was autumn and as I walked among the towering trees around me with the sound of crickets in my ears, I could feel the chill of the night air against my black fur. But soon winter would come, and with that a much greater cold.

We wolves where not fortunate like that lone bear in this wilderness we call Paw, he could slumber through the thin months of winter while our pack had to endure the cold and lack of suitable prey. Is was during such months my pack depended on me the most, depended on my strength and confidence to give them hope. And I would never let them down; for our bonds where strong and with such bonds came a caring and sense of protectiveness for my pack; the bonds that helped us survived in the wilderness. Such bonds where all we could depend on.

I looked up to the stars, remembering my father saying that a wolf's fate and the stars where intertwined. Even now I did know what he meant; but I thought of him when ever I looked up into the night sky. But as I looked at the night sky; I heard talking in the distance; a man beast speaking the man beast's language.

I covertly skulked between the trees and came to the edge of the wilderness. I then heard the man beast clearly; I knew his language for all animals did but was a secret we kept from the man beast.

I hid behind some trees and watched.

An adult man beast, dressed only in a red cape and sparse garments, stood on a rock before the wilderness; holding a crying man cub up into the air as he spoke. I knew he was from a pack of man beasts who called themselves Spartans. This man was bearded, looked both hardened in character and body and had a scar on his cheek.

Spartans, the animals said; where man beasts who perpetually shed blood and where capable of violence that even large Paw said to be senseless. A man of violence who was useless during times of peace.

I listened to the man beast speak as he held the crying man cub up into the air.

“You are a year old, and you are already to weak to be one of us. You are weak in both flesh and soul; and your weakness will not be tolerated. The weak have no place in Sparta, and thus you are unfit to be one of us. The weak have no place in Sparta, or the world of men. So I cast you into the wilderness to die, to be devoured by beasts. For your weakness is your death for the world belongs to the strong. Now die you weakling.”

Appalled, I watched as the man beast threw the crying man cub from the rock then walked away. Now the crying man cub lay on the dirt the ground before the wilderness, left to die by his own pack. I was both shocked and disgusted, and as I listened to the man cub cry I was moved to intervene.

I walked out from the trees and slowly approached the man cub. I stood over the cub, once I looked down at the infant the man cub ceased crying. Then I spoke in the language of my pack.

“Child, my pack is taking you in. Even wolves are not so heartless as to throw our young into the wilderness to be eaten by beasts. I, Fang, shall raise you like my own son.

The bonds of my pack are strong; and our bonds make us fend for members of the pack who cannot fend for themselves. I shall call you Man Cub. You will never see that wretched man beasts again, for now; you are a member of my pack and a wolf. Fear not, we will protect you. Welcome to the pack, Man Cub.”

The child then laughed and I picked the cub up in my jaws and walked back into the wilderness.

 

The End


© Copyright 2019 Matthew Bissonnette. All rights reserved.

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