Wolf

"There's a wolf in the woods."

Trevor untucked his head from the curve of his sleeping bag. He yawned, rubbing a hand over his straw-like hair, clumped from the weeks in the cold. The fire between the sleeping man and his lookout had died long ago, but the coals provided enough heat to melt the snow. Trevor moved to warm his hands. 

"I'm serious." Edgar, the lookout, asserted. His eyes had not moved from their initial fixed point, his hands curled cautiously around his musket. Trevor was reluctant to talk. He hated seeing the clouds rise from his warm breath. He knew about the outrageousness of it, but it felt as if all the heat was escaping from him, like steam in a kettle. Still, Edgar seemed concerned- in his particular stoic way.

"Edgar." Trevor said, semi-sarcastically. "We have not seen so much as a insect in this snow. A wolf would be quite the discovery, don't you think?"

"We have only just reached the forest. And there is a wolf."

Trevor walked with difficulty through the snow, collecting around the bottoms of his pants, to peer out into the woods. His eyes were worse than his companion's, but he could make out a slim, moving shape behind the first line of trees.The shadows of the woods were no match for the moon however, so it was nothing more than that. 

"That could be anything. A deer, a boar, a-"

"It is a wolf!"

The urgency in Edgar's voice was foreign to Trevor's ears. He noticed the knuckles, normally pink in the cold, had turned white around the gun. 

"It's alone. It cannot hunt properly." Edgar sputtered nervously. "It has been a barren winter. This wolf will be desperate."

"It's not a wolf! I will prove it to you."

"Trevor don't!" Edgar whispered, reverting to quiet for some unknown, but felt, reason. Trevor ignored the warning and trudged slowly towards the woods. 

"I must put your mind at rest friend!" He called behind him.

Edgar shifted forward in the snow. Trevor had been quite a savior in the long and undoubtedly difficult journey. Edgar trusted him entirely, but he was sure, he was sure the shadow was a wolf. He knew the shape well. He knew the teeth better.

Edgar could see the creature had stopped, almost in curiosity, to view the new challenge. Trevor, around a hundred yards from the edge of the woods, stopped in unison with the shape, realizing the obvious height and heavy fur. His boot wavered for a moment over the snow, then took a single, tentative step backwards. At this, the shape lunged from the woods running, paws flinging great chunks of ice up into the night sky. Edgar was right of course. The rare gray wolf, the even rarer lone grey wolf, collided viciously with Trevor's retreating back, knocking him down to the snow. The long fierce claws cemented him there through the shoulder, releasing a wave of red, so hot it melted the snow on impact. Trevor screamed out, his forearm the only thing keeping the wolf's great head from colliding with his own.

"EDGAR!"

The musket rattled something awful in Edgar's hands, attempting to aim with no success. Even with perfectly even hands, the two adversaries were too entangled to ensure which one would get hit. The man could not bear to move from his impression in the snow.

"EDGAR!" Trevor screamed again, twisting his face to see his friend. The wolf lunged, still blocked by Trevor's arm, but now only inches away. The prey let out a sob, the muscles in his arms trembling. Edgar raised his musket to his eyes.

"EDGAR DO SOMETHING!" Trevor cried. The wolf reared up on its hind legs and came down with great power and force. Trevor shifted his face back in the snow, eyes closed, braced for the teeth. Edgar, with eyes also closed, pulled the trigger of his musket.