Print lips when he exhaled. Swiftkill circled Todd, sniffing at the gash. The sharp scent of iron and salt stung in a way that he could not respect. Usually when blood came to his nostrils, the aroma made him hungry, his maw dripping with desire. Now it sickened him.
Todd gave another quick whimper and Swiftkill opened his maw, licking at his friends’ injury. The action made his stomach twist in agony. The blood stained his lips and left a pungent warm taste on his tongue. Todd lay unspoken, accepting the relief that the lapping had brought. Swiftkill swallowed the foul liquid and heaved a sigh, pleased the flow had stopped.
“Can you stand?” He inquired, unsure if they were in a secure position to rest. Todd sat up, stretching his front legs and giving off no pressure to his damaged hind.
“Just barley.” He said hoarsely. He stood in the blood soaked snow, his legs shaking. The trees stood soundlessly, their bare deceased branches seeming to twist and curl above them; Mother Nature's clutch on life. The wind whispered among them, hinting another presence. Swiftkill raised his snout, breathing deeply. The whiff nipped at his nose and along his throat. He knew this stench too clearly. It reeked from the red buckets that had been resting at the foot of the barn steps. It was a disgusting liquid, sharp and potent. The fluid called gasoline. It was all too soon before the purr begun off in the distance. Swiftkill's ears perked to the familiar blare. It was man and his flying machine.
“C’mon, we don’t have much time left.” He commanded, his heart now racing in his breast. It skipped and jumped like a bird trapped in a cage too small, ceaselessly beating its wings against the bars. He kept his jade eyes to the heavens, searching for the vivid orange contraption. Todd knew only too well of this instrument that man used against them. He’d soar high like a hawk and assault from sky, while they could only run, incapable to turn back and fight. Most wolves never got back up after the shots were fired. Their hackles raised in panic.
Todd struggled to stand, but finally made it. He limped to Swiftkill's side. Swiftkill advanced, moving faster on swift paws, as if skipping across the ground. It persuaded Todd to pad faster, keeping time with his leader. The two lifeless chickens were forgotten.
The two wolves made no space in-between the plane and themselves in their short amount of time. It wasn’t long before the roar of the engine was right above them, and they were no longer protected by the bare forest branches.
They struggled; Todd limping through the deep snow, and Swiftkill debating on bolting or staying with his friend. They tried to cross the meadow, snow flying, pelts rustling, muscles clenching and lungs gasping for breath.
“Split up!” Swiftkill yelled over the engine, dashing left rapidly. Todd obeyed, running towards the right at a slower rate. He looked back many times, Swiftkill's pelt of fire getting fainter in the remoteness of the colorless landscape. The plane swerved above him and followed his leader. Pain and panic swelled in Todd’s heart as he hid under a safety of a thick brush. He panted his throat dry and muscles soar. He felt the warm liquid pool down his hind leg. He swallowed repeatedly, his gasps slowing. Soon the roar of the plane dulled to a groan and soon nothing else.
The grey brute laid in the snow, silent now, eyes alert and ears perked. No sounds echoed across the still countryside.
“Swiftkill?” He called out. His voice ricocheted off the ground and echoed across the hills. “Are you there?” He bellowed. The notion of his leader, his friend, laying on the ground and dying alone made him abandon the shelter of his shrub. His paws crushed over the snow as he searched the skies for the man and his mechanism. Nothing moved, and no sound came. “Swiftkill?” He asked quietly, his voice low and sad. A sharp whine came from his slightly parted lips as he marched on.
It was hours before Todd gave up, the moon already towering in the night heavens. He sat on a ledge, tired and alone. His frosty colored pelt softened