Wolf Tracks

January 26, 2011
There was once a man who lived in Alaska. Every day, he would take his gun and go out into the wilderness and shoot wolves.

During one hunt, he heard a deep, throaty howl. The man whirled around, intent on seeking out the noise. But he couldn't see anything except a line of deep tracks that he was sure had not been there before. He followed the tracks, which went into the woods. He heard the howl again. It was closer. The tracks stopped. He paused for a moment, confused. Suddenly, he heard a swish behind him. Turning, he saw the largest wolf he had ever seen in all his years as an Alaskan hunter. This thing was taller than him sitting up, and it was a pure, snowy white with icy blue eyes. The wolf snarled at him and lunged.

Terrified, the man raised his gun and shot the wolf. It fell to the ground with a yelp.

Wiping his face free of sweat, the man decided that he had had enough hunting for one day. He started to walk home, leaving the wolf, its bright scarlet blood staining the snow, behind him.

As he left the forest, he heard a howl exactly like the one that had drawn him into it. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He started to walk faster. The howl sounded again, but closer. The man broke into an all out run, and he could swear that he could feel icy breath at his back, the sound of paw steps behind him. Then, the silent, dry air was broken the howls, barks and snarls of what sounded like dozens of wolves. They all sounded far away, but the noise was getting louder and closer by the minute. The man was almost at his house. Soaked in sweat, he almost ran into the door itself. He opened it, rushed inside, and bolted the lock. He leaned against the door, breathing heavily.

The man decided that he must have imagined the enormous wolf and all the howls. He sat in bed and started to read.

Suddenly, there was a tap on the door. The man wondered who would be wandering the Alaskan wilderness at six o'clock at night. He got up, and opened the door. No one was there, but he thought he felt something icy cold slip past him as he closed the door. He shrugged, and went back to his room. Maybe it was a prank. As he sat down with his book, he thought he heard a swish. He quickly turned his head to where the noise came from, but saw nothing.

Much later, as the man was sleeping, he was woken by soft breathing. He sat up and froze, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. But the breathing didn't sound like a person's. It was a sort of snuffling sound. Like a dog's. Or...

A bark ripped through the midnight silence. Whatever it was had realized the man was awake. As it stood up, its form seemed to grow even higher. The man could see the thing, even in the dark, because it was a pure, snowy white. Eyes, glowing bright blue stared at him. It was without a doubt, the wolf he had killed. Mist coiled around its paws, and its huge head was raised.
“W-what do you want?” the man stammered.
“I want you to pay,” the wolf snarled, “For all the pointless killings you have made.”
“I'll never hurt another wolf again! I swear! Don't kill me!” the man pleaded. The wolf took a step closer to him.
“No,” it growled. “You will not. I will see to that. You will take you promise to the grave!” The last words turning into a roar, the wolf lunged for the man's throat. The last thing the man ever saw was the glimmer of sharp fangs, and a bright blue flash.

One day, a young girl was exploring in the snow. She found a seemingly empty cabin and entered it. She walked into the bedroom and screamed at what she saw. She ran out of the room, ran out of the cabin, and ran all the way home.
Two police officers went to the cabin and picked up the body. Even now, many years later, no one lives there. There is, however, one visitor to the empty house. It is a dog. A huge, white dog with a pointed muzzle and icy blue eyes.





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