Wolves Hunt

Snow. Deep footsteps from behind. Haze. White mountains in the distance. Stomping that sounded in sync with everyone on the trail. Vision dark until Zayn opened his eyes to complete snow in every direction. He forced his way forward and led the people behind him, though he had no idea who it was beside the voice of his younger sister, telling him not to give up.

In the distance, Zayn heard an echo of sound, high-pitched, perhaps. He looked around at the blanket of whiteness expecting to see nothing but the continued snowfall. Then, North-West of his position, a dog-shaped figure appeared, with more of its kind behind the leader. After two blinks, Zayn confirmed the beasts he saw in the distance weren't dogs. No. They were Arctic wolves, their mouths black, their nose black and their eyes, surrounded by blackness. The leader of the wolves raised its head and howled for what seemed to be a few seconds before standing on its rear legs for a couple of seconds, as if allowing time for Zayn to notice it.

Zayn pointed for everyone following him, including his sister, to shift North-East and speed up. But it wasn't enough. They weren't animals, and they weren't suited for the winter environment. No. Running wasn't possible for young Zayn no matter how much he urged himself and yelled for his sister to hurry. Everyone fell further and further behind. Snow kicked into the air as he almost fell face first into ice-cold snow.

Then, after a glanced to his left, the wolves charged through the snow as if there was no snow, as if it were a grassland in the south of Africa, clear and flat and free of obstruction. The leader of the wolves beared its white fangs at Zayn. It seemed as if it only saw Zayn. Hunted by a beast in its natural habitat, hunted by the apex predator, led to certain death.

Zayn stopped running and turned towards the wolves. As he did, the white wolf had closed the gap and lunged at him, fangs visible in sharpened glory, two dark holes for eyes.

Zayn punched the wolf.