Silent Word

We go the long ways because we are hiding. My brothers never speak his name, but I know who we are hiding from. The smells of this world are better at night. The machines—steel, metal, rubber—they make less stink when the sun has left the sky.

This is a strange world. There is rain. There are clouds. I have seen storms. I have seen humans riding on machines with only two wheels. I ask why they do not fall over. My brothers laugh, and give me the smallest share of meat from the hunt. Secretly, I think they don’t know the riddle of the two wheeled machines.

Tonight when we rested in our hiding cave, I saw an impossible thing. A machine flew through the sky, between the stars. Wulfs have good seeing, even at night. This was shaped like a bird, but it gleamed in starlight; metal.

Who are these humans that can build such machines? Why are we betraying the Pack to rise against creatures who cannot walk on four legs, and grow old quickly, but who build machines that fly?

I do not ask these things. My brothers would laugh, or cuff my ears. I am the smallest, but I know a word, a silent word that all of us are too afraid to speak: traitor.

h. Raven

Raven’s Bookshelf

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~ by hravenstories on October 12, 2010.

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