All For Them

Winter was angry. Or at least this storm was. The wind screamed its fury aloud as it whipped brown and blonde fur, grown long for winter, around the big body of the man. Ochre was his name and he was on a mission. That mission was to feed his family. His children were yearlings and he'd left his mate at home in the warmth of their den. They'd chosen the worst time to travel, but Daelos had felt the pull of family. He couldn't and wouldn't deny her that. It was important to both of them. He firmly believed that the journey would strengthen their children. It would make them hearty and sharp against the elements. They would learn what to do and not to do in winter. That alone was reason enough to travel such a long distance in such nasty weather.

The howling winds froze the brute to the bone. Only his constant motion kept him warm. The snows fell and they fell hard. The falling powder was so thick that it completely obscured his vision only a few feet ahead of him. Traversing the landscape was difficult, but he had no choice. His family required sustenance and so he would suffer this extreme discomfort for their benefit. Back in a patch of forest where the trees served as a windbreaker, the big man had caught the scent of caribou. The wind had also supplied him with the acrid stench of sulfur, and so he knew without seeing that there was some sort of earthen vent up ahead. Ochre wasn't positive whether it was a geyser or hot springs, but he would find out soon enough.

It was difficult to tell, but he believed he could see tracks here and there in the blowing snow. The snow was deep enough that the long legs of caribou left visible furrows in the powder. With the blowing wind, however, these tracks were quickly erased. As he tracked, the earth below him rumbled ominously as if preparing for something. He had a thought that it might be another active volcano, but he pushed such a terribly musing away. Negative thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere and he had a task to focus on. Giving his shaggy body a shake, Ochre continued on his course. The heat pouring off of his body turned the clinging snow into ice crystals, weaving into his coat and turning his fur into thick tendrils. It was making him feel heavier and making him feel colder as well. He had to stop and shake regularly to rid himself of the crystals. The vast difference in body heat and outside temperature had frozen the snot in his nose as well. A great sneeze ripped from the man and he almost went face first into the snow.

Up head a lowing bleat sounded. Dark ears flicked forward, trying to catch another bleat. He'd almost given up hope of hearing another when it drifted to him on the screaming wind. A gust hit him square in the face, the icy chill of it taking his breath away. He was forced to hunker down, bury his muzzle under his crossed forelegs and regain his breath. The cold was taking its toll and his body began to shiver involuntarily. The man growled aloud with frustration before pulling himself to his paws and starting forward again. He had to make a kill soon or he would be forced to retreat.

Again the ground rumbled and, through the blizzard, he could see the snow thinning in a cloud of... smoke? Steam? Curiously, Ochre padded forward. The steam undulated and disappeared, leaving him blind again. It seemed to come in spurts, however, for a moment later the steam wafted towards him again. The heat of it melted the snow in the air. He timed his steps forward in tune with this steam so that his line of vision would be broader. Again and again he waited. Again and again his visibility improved.

Suddenly the snow cleared and standing right before him was a bull caribou. The rest of the herd was scattered wide, giving a natural earthen precipice a wide berth. Ochre seized the moment. He lunged forward, teeth tearing into one hind leg. The herd scattered and his prey bellowed. Ochre whipped his head back and forth, rending great tears in the flesh of the unfortunate ungulate. Before long, he had no choice but to fight for a new hold on the beast. He released and sought to bite down again, but the bull rushed forward on three and a half legs. Unlike the rest of the herd, the bull took the path of least resistance, running close to the precipice rather than going around. Just then, the ground rumbled harder than ever. Steam came first, but a geyser of water rocketed out of the hole soon after. The boiling liquid came down, landing square on the caribou, ending its life instantly. The smell of sulfur was rank and Ochre sneezed several times, trying to clear it from his nose. The man lowered himself to the snow, waiting for the geyser to cease and the steam to clear.

Ochre shivered and shook. Any heat that the geyser gave off was stolen by the swirling, snowy wind. Once satisfied that the geyser had run its course, the man crept slowly and carefully forward. The dead caribou came into view. Fur and skin had been burned away, leaving a corpse of mottled red and white, the color of a boiled body. Wrapping  his jaws around one hind leg, Ochre used his weight to pull the body along with him, well out of range of the geysers reach. Caribou weren't terribly large and with the crust atop the snow, the big wolf was able to drag his acquired meal back to the patch of woods where he had initially smelled the caribou. Once there, he had to take a break. The cold was killing him. He curled up next to the somewhat still warm corpse and absorbed what heat he could. Once his nose and pads were thawed, Ochre took up dragging his prey once more. He didn't complain overly about his hardships. He was the man in the family. It was his duty and his honor to feed those that depended on him. So he continued on, eventually getting the caribou back to his hungry mate and daughters. While they ate, he curled up in the back of their temporary den, shivering and willing whatever gods may have existed to warm his icy bones once more. Woof.