Cold Rain
Copyright 1998 by Kane

  It is raining outside.  The rain is cold, but not yet cold enough to become 
snow.  I can hear it tapping gently on the ground.  The rain forms a curtain 
of water that veils my view of the forest outside.  What was once green 
and beautiful now is only gray, cold, and dead.  A tiny trickle of water 
seeps its was into my den, but I ignore it.  I am lying in my den, half 
asleep, staring into the the rain, thinking about what has happened in the 
past year.

   It was a fine summer evening.  My mate had given birth to a litter of five
healthy pups just six weeks before.  She told me she wanted to go hunting 
with me.  As usual, she ignored my warnings about her health and safety, 
and ran ahead of me, urging me to hurry up.  Ah well, she always was the 
faster runner.   We smelled a young buck nearby.  My mate and I had split 
up to come at him from both sides.  I ran around to come at the buck from 
the right, and knew that my mate would send him running right in my 
direction, where I would make the kill.  The thought of the buck's sweet, 
hot meat and thick, salty blood brought a hot taste to my mouth.  As I ran 
deeper into the forest and closer to the buck, I suddenly smelled a new 
scent, one that made my heart skip a beat.  I heard laughter nearby.  
Frantically, I ran back to my mate to warn her, but I was a second too late.
I heard a loud noise, louder than thunder, and I saw my mate lying still on 
the ground.  I heard more laughter, and saw the forms of human hunters 
walking away into the woods.  Too overcome with grief and fear to chase 
them, I ran over to my mate, who still had not moved.  The bullet had lodge
 itself deep into her chest, just missing the heart.  Blood stained her 
silvery muzzle, her whiskers drooped in defeat.  She was not yet dead, but 
death was close.  I pawed at her, trying to urge her back to life, but she 
would not respond.  Then I heard a frightened, high-pitched whine, and I 
saw the cubs approaching.  They came over to their mother and nuzzled 
her, wondering why she could not get up.  I could not explain it.  She 
continued to lie there silently for about two more hours until she finally 
died.  I laid my head across her neck, trying to remember the warmth of 
her body, but she was cold, empty, lifeless.  I threw my head back and 
howled at the moon, screaming at the uncaring sky for the unfairness of 
my mate's death, and for the utter contempt the humans had for life.

   Now my den is empty.  All around me where once was the warmth of my 
mate and cubs is now coldness.  The cubs have all left, either to be shot by
humans or to leave for a new hunting ground.  All of the wolves that 
inhabited this forest have departed, and now only I am left.  The forest 
which once teemed with life now is cold and empty.  I have not eaten my 
fill in months; most of the deer have left as well.  I now lie here, staring 
into the rain, wondering why this has to be, yet knowing this is not as it 
should be.  I wonder what will happen to be now.  Far off in the distance I 
hear the voices of humans, cursing the lack of game.