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Chapter 11: For Better, or Worse?

Humphrey was escorted into the den and carefully laid over onto his side, where he lied parched, exhausted, and wrenched in the grip of agony. In his state it took everything he had to make the walk to his savior's den, and only now that his journey was over could he feel the true strain he had put on his body.

The other wolf, however, only needed a moment to catch his breath before he regained himself.

He called Humphrey's attention by gently tapping his shoulder then began to write.

'Wait here,' he instructed, 'I need to go find a few things.'

Humphrey read the message and nodded, slightly afraid of being left alone again, but he trusted this wolf, or more so put every last drop of faith into him because he was the only one who could keep him alive, so he was not going to stop him.

The wolf turned his eyes up and moved to make his departure, but stopped after a few paces and turned down to Humphrey once more.

Humphrey was slightly discomforted by his droning gaze, but after a few moments it was averted as the wolf turned away.

He moved off to his left out of Humphrey's sight and remained in the omega's blind spot for a matter of ten seconds before he reappeared with a rabbit hanging from his jaws which he dropped near Humphrey's paws.

"Eat," he mouthed, "you must be hungry."

Humphrey was starving, but he could not possibly take this wolf's kill from him.

"I can't," he said as he lowered his eyes to the rabbit, but then he remembered that his host was deaf.

'I can't take this,' he wrote, 'it's yours.'

The wolf sighed and erased the message.

'It's alright,' he replied, 'I've got another one.'

'You're sure,' Humphrey wrote.

The wolf only nodded, which caused Humphrey to finally digress.

"Thank you," he thanked aloud.

The wolf could not hear him, but understood what he had said and nodded.

'Sit tight,' he instructed, 'I'll be back.'

Humphrey waited until the wolf was gone then began to eat the rabbit. He started first by using his teeth and the claws on his left paw to peel away a section of skin so as to avoid eating tufts of fur, then once the meat was exposed, he smiled and began to eat.

To him it was like a gift from God himself. The blood, still warm, poured into his mouth like sweet red wine and the flesh, tender and delicious, made every taste bud on his tongue tingle with delight.

Humphrey, being an omega, was generally a slow eater since there was no competition for food between the others of his class, but he was so hungry that he hardly took the time to chew. Without grace or regard for manners, he swallowed chunk after tasty chunk of the nourishing meat, and in a matter of about five minutes there was nothing but a pile of tiny, pink bones before him.

"Oh my god," he groaned softly as he licked the blood from his lips, "I needed that."

But he was soon to realize that the rabbit he ate did little to appease his ravenous hunger and found himself drooling uncontrollably. When the strange wolf was around, his scent overwhelmed the den, but now that he was gone, Humphrey could detect other morsels which would make for fine meals.

However, he showed restraint, for he lacked the ability to move and reminded himself that it was not his place to eat that which was not given to him.

A scrape of paws indicated the arrival of the wolf, who walked in and paused near the mouth of the den with a muted chuckle.

Humphrey lifted his head and turned to him then watched as he moved into the den. He paused before him and set what he carried in his mouth on the floor then looked at him.

'Were you hungry?' he wrote.

Humphrey nodded.

'Very,' he replied.

'How long has it been since you last ate?' the wolf asked as he lifted his head and cocked an ear.

'Probably five days.'

The wolf's eyes widened for a moment.

'Dear lord, son,' he wrote, 'that long?'

Humphrey lowered his eyes and nodded.

'There wasn't any food in the places you passed through to get here?'

'Came by train,' he wrote in reply.

The wolf nodded once.

'I see,' he wrote then turned around and produced another animal, this one being a nice sized beaver.

Humphrey, knowing that it was pointless to argue, accepted the offering with only a slight hesitation. The thought of eating this particular animal was slightly intimidating, because he had never eaten beaver before, but at this point, he was too hungry to be picky.

'Thank you,' he wrote, 'I really appreciate it.'

The wolf only smiled and lifted his right forepaw as a means to assure Humphrey that thanks were not necessary.

Humphrey understood the gesture and nodded.

'Now eat,' the wolf wrote, thus breaking off conversation, 'then I will try to fix your leg.'

Humphrey nodded and lowered his head toward the beaver carcass, preparing to gorge himself upon its tender flesh.

A&?

Never before had they been ordered to build anything more sinister than that which they were ordered to build now. At certain intervals on paths which wound through their territory and in other strategic locations which would be marked by objects that could only be identified by those who knew what to look for they were to dig holes three feet deep and five feet wide which were to be covered by the most frail of branches and vegetation which would make them nearly impossible to detect and easily broken when stepped upon at which point the unsuspecting victim would drop in and find the surprise which waited for them at the bottom. Protruding roughly six inches from the bottom of these pits were sticks whose ends were sharpened to points like spears, designed to impale any who were unlucky enough to stumble upon them.

Though they thought that he was mad because the idea behind this was sick and inhumane, they eventually conceded to his wishes, for the way that Winston justified these spike pits to those who opposed him was by telling them that they were a necessary commodity and would serve as both extra security for their borders which they severely lacked due to their numbers and as a scare factor which would cause their attackers to become paranoid to a point where they could no longer function properly because they would be too worried about where their paws fell and therefore leave themselves vulnerable to ambush.

He also conveyed to them that if they had any chance of winning this war, they needed all the help that they could get due to the fact that there were only eight of them, and with the slightest hint of hesitation told them that most, if not all of those who fell into the pit, would die quickly.

Miles could detect a lie from even the most talented of conmen, but kept his mouth shut because, while he may not have agreed with what they were doing or why they had even gone to war with the East in the first place, Winston was his closest friend, so he remained loyal and stood by his side no matter what.

But even more than that, he was deeply concerned for Winston because he could see what his daughter's death and his wife's leaving him did to him.

He was broken, both of mind and heart, and there was nothing which he would be so happy as to welcome into his home than Death, because in a matter of hours, he had lost everything that had ever meant anything at all to him, and his will to live right along with it.

In so short a time his eyes had become dull and his face became lined with deep set wrinkles which seemed to indicate that his soul was slowly decaying inside of him and that quite soon he would be nothing more than an empty shell , heartless and sad, but his stubborn will kept him going, if only just, for, like each and every one of us, he needed something to hold onto until the bell tolled. Now that he had lost his grip on that which made his world spin, and there was nothing left for him to believe in, he needed a new way to survive, and war seemed to be the answer, as his anger and his hatred were the only things which seemed to keep him alive anymore.

But these readings which Miles could see barely even scratched the surface of what was truly going on, for he could not see that Winston truly had gone completely insane. He could not see that his friend was so detached that he was going to lead every last one of them to their deaths, because in Winston's mind, that was the only thing left for all of them to do, and leaving was no longer an option. And not once did it cross his mind that there was nothing about this coming war which would be worth dying for, especially for those in his command whom he knew would die by the coming of the next full moon.

He did realize that everything was his fault, though, and knew that he would surely burn for his actions, but he did not care, because he knew that eventually justice for his crimes would be done. He would be the last. For him alone, death would wait. As punishment for his sins, he would be forced to carry the guilt of sending his closest friends to their deaths until finally, after losing everything, the reaper would find him and drag him away.

But he knew it was not enough.

No punishment would ever be enough to bring justice to the endless list of wrong doings in his time on this earth, but at least it was a start...

A&?

Humphrey winced as the wolf turned his injured leg over and over as it was examined, and groaned as spasms rocketed through his whole body when it was prodded, but finally, after a matter of about five minutes, the wolf lowered it to the ground again then began immediately to write.

Humphrey attempted to peek over his shoulder, but could not lift himself high enough, so he settled again and waited for him to finish.

'Im sure you don't need me to tell you that your leg is broken, so which news do you want first?' Humphrey read once the wolf finished.

He swallowed and began to write.

'Go ahead and break it to me,' he wrote, 'how bad is it?'

'Well the bad news is your Achilles was severely damaged by the trap, and will take far longer to heal than your broken bone,' the wolf explained, 'but the good news is you'll actually get to keep your leg contrary to my previous belief.'

Humphrey's eyes widened slightly as he read the last line. He was both shocked by the potential his injury had to cripple him for the rest of his life and grateful that he had gotten so lucky as to avoid such severity.

'Well that's good,' Humphrey wrote after a while, unable to come up with anything else to say in reply.

This then caused the wolf to chuckle slightly, but his smile quickly faded.

'I know you aren't from around here,' he wrote, 'only a fool would wind up in a trap when they've been living so near to a town, so where are you from, and what are you doing so far from home?'

This caused Humphrey to sigh and flatten his ears. He really wished to not speak of such matters, because the wounds left behind were still tender, but he knew that he needed to let his bottled up emotions go, so he decided on a compromise.

'Tell you what,' he wrote, 'fix my leg and tell me your name, then I will tell you everything.'