A flash of grey zipped through the blackened underbrush, leaving crackling twigs, leaves, and thorns scattered in his wake, barely visible. Behind him followed three dogs, making quick chase to the grey agouti wolf. One of the dogs trailed in the back, a huge, hefty beast with a thick white coat and missing ears. Ahead of him blazed two saluki-styled dogs, with lean, dark, graceful bodies built for speed and chase.

And chase they did, with elegance and swiftness and sleekness, like air, and light, and water, they sped through the shrubbery and thickets of the dried evening winter forest, the chilled air whipping across their shiningly smooth, fringed coats. Their fur itself seemed like wings, flowing behind them and helping them to glide beautifully across the forest floor and through the air in long, athletic leaps and bounds. Tongues lolled, they pursued with the passion and energy of proud workers and hunters.

The large dog trailed behind them with a thump, thump, thump, from his mighty paws on the cool forest floor; his coat was thick and heavy and pale, as was his body and head. He galloped with strength like a war horse, densely built like a draft horse, head low and chops dripping. We wore a collar lined with crude stone spikes, leather armour draped across his back and face. He was eager to find the wolf, and with jaws as large and as strong as his, the wolf barely stood a chance.

It had been more than a century since a wolf was seen in Anertha. The very word "wolf" had been forgotten other than playground insults. The wolf, the proud, powerful beast that died anyways at the jaws of dogs. The wolf was a symbol of unity among dogs, showing their exceptional power and prowess in their successful extinction of the grey timber wolf. The wolf was a menace, too large and too strong and too unified and too clever for the dog's tastes; as tensions rose, a war began, and the grey wolf was wiped out like prey.

Here, in this browned, cluttered forest, the wolf certainly looked a lot like prey, running for his life with his tail tucked between his legs and the whites of his eyes showing bold. His heart could leap from his chest with its thunderous, fearful pounding. He was only weak because he was missing the thing that made all grey wolves so formidable so long ago: a pack. He was a lone wolf, and likely the last of his kind.

Whenever a party from the nearest tribe, Veal Tribe, detected the unfamiliar stench of something primal and undomesticated, they knew something new and perhaps menacing had come to the forests and fields of  Veal Tribe. The Veal Tribe's Baron quickly determined it must, with shock, be a wolf. And now, a month later, that same wolf had been discovered and was on the run from a hunting party of the Veal Tribe.

Although large, the wolf was faster than any dog at almost 45 miles per hour. He was a blur in the forest, and his natural, dense coat was invisible against the autumnal scene. Yet, still giving chase were flashes of colourful dogs. They were relentless, and on direct orders from their leader to capture the last timber wolf. The dog's stamina did not usually outlast the wolf's.

It was, of course, the fast Salukis that caught up to the male wolf first. One caught up quicker than the other. The one that seemed to prance and gallop like a gazelle, with thin, tall legs, a prominent tuck, and a large chest; her neck was long and graceful, as was her tail and her gently fringed coat. Her snout was long like a smooth collie's. One could almost see every bone underneath her skin, obscured only by densely-built muscle that gleamed. The dying sun still reflected off her Black and Tan pointed coat, giving her a strong sheen. She was thin, strong, and large, and built for speed.

The other Saluki seemed to be right behind her, also a sleek, black one, with tall legs and a strong, powerful chest. They were nearly identical, but the second one was just a bit smaller, and without any tan points- he was solid black. The two made for a very quick, very strong pair of precise, energetic hunters. They were noble and elegant, but not delicate; instead they were strong and coarse. And a bit farther behind them gambled the huge Kangal, crackling twigs beneath his weight, who would defend, protect, and fight with strength, though perhaps not with honour or grace. He would fight dirty and ugly, and be glad to do so, as would most guardian dogs.

The Black and Tan saluki leapt in great rounded bounds towards the wolf, and for several moments, she was flying. She first caught him with her forepaws, and then with her fangs as she, in a flurry, snapped at his haunches and hit her target, sinking teeth into his rear fur. He yelped, not out of pain but out of surprise and fear, and kicked backwards with his hind legs at her tall throat, which seemed more delicate than the rest of her. He hit his mark, too, and she coughed into his pelt but refused to give up the grip she had on him, as the Saluki wasn't sure she would be able to bite him again if he got away now. Her jaws ached with the force, the pressure, the heavy muscles pushing against her and wriggling and running to be free from her maw.

She hunkered down, digging her back heels into the dirt and leaf crumble of the forest floor, pulling backwards with her front legs and her strong shoulders, pulling back with her head and her teeth, forcing the wolf to slow his sprint, and then slow, and then slow, his hind legs dragging behind him as she put her weight on them and held him down. The metallic taste of blood began to swell on her teeth, and the fiery pain of her bite broke through the wolf's adrenaline rush and stung him sharply, and he cried out once again, sweating, this time in pain.

She pulled stinging grey and brown hairs out of his hip as she yanked on his skin. It hurt, but it wasn't too severe. But it hurt, it stung, it coursed through him like fire and his hind legs felt a bit stiff, the pads of his paws wet with nervousness, his tongue out and dripping with spit, his tail still hidden against his stomach and his back hunched. He seemed to quake slightly with the fear and the pain, his hair on end in a ridge down his spine, and his eyes in white crescent shape.

The other Saluki had jogged beside them for a while, and then used his own teeth on the wolf with a quick ferocity, and yet, without struggle. He snapped at the side of the wolf, missing his mark, and the wolf skittered along the forest floor, still held back by his haunches and the jaws that still held him. The solid black Saluki tried once again with a snap, and his fangs then, excitedly, met agouti pelt. He made contact with the wolf at his upper ribs, getting his loose shoulder scruff between his fangs and yanking, and the wolf yelped and flipped, ears pinned against his head and teeth bared and wet, eyes watering, heart thudding. His breathing quaked.

The two sighthounds had the large thrashing beast pinned and stopped completely; but the wolf did not stop. He whirled, cried, turned and tossed on the ground, leaves clinging to his pelt. He reared his head back with a frothing, pained snarl and snapped at the male Saluki, gripping a floppy ear and ripping it in half with a simple quick yank of his head. The black Saluki whined and faltered, trying to not let go of his grip, but weakening enough for the wolf to wriggle free from his jaws. The wolf's hind legs were pinned by the other, but his front was now unconstrained, and with anger and adrenaline and agony, he lunged at the shiny black Saluki male, and their gleaming fangs met like swords.

They mouthed viciously, spit flying, their noses creased in ferocious, throated snarls. The Saluki cried out as the wolf skimmed his cheek with fangs, drawing crimson blood. Their front paws battled, raising and lowering and meeting and missing, like punches. Hackles were raised on both ends.

The black and tan Saluki, from behind, used her forelegs to pin the wolf's haunches down, but he was huge and strong, and pulled her with him as he climbed atop of the male with a grunt of effort. They battled some more, like batting cats, growling and teeth touching and claws scraping and fur flying, little droplets of scarlet blood tossed up into the air from scratches neither of them yet noticed. The pumping, pounding adrenaline and energy and focus masked both of their pain.

The sky was growing dark, shadows became long, and the barren trees black silhouettes against a dusty blue sky. Their eyes adjusted.

The wolf's jaws gripped the side of the male's face from beneath him, crunching hard with his strong back teeth. He cried out and pawed desperately to escape, and then the wolf tossed around and found the black dog's throat, which seemed unprotected with slick, thin hair, and he crushed it with fangs and molars and power, and it seemed to explode and crumple simultaneously beneath his mighty grip. It filled his mouth and coated his throat with thick blood that spilled and spilled and spilled. It wasn't sour, but was far from sweet. Almost bitter, almost spoiled. The tension broke, and the dog fell limp beneath him.

He felt a weight behind him, and the pointed female had leapt upon him, snarling, tearing at his coat and scruff. The wolf, fangs bared, turned and attacked her. Blood welled where he'd been scratched along his nose, and it scattered in droplets as he overtook the thin sight hound and forced her to the ground. She yowled and kicked at him with fierceness, anger, hate, and fear.

From above his eyes, the wolf saw a flash of cream and the crackling of leaves crunching under hefty foot; and he suddenly looked up and into the eyes of a huge dog bounding towards him, pushing through the brush and splitting the forest around him, eyes glowered, hackles raised. Then, he bowled into the wolf, knocking him off of the black and tan sighthound, and then pursuing. The wolf fell backwards with a painful thud, the air forced from his lungs as he panted, gasping for air. His front and back both felt bruised, aching terribly and sore. The mighty Kangal was only slightly smaller than the wolf, unlike the racers which were less than a third of his size in weight.

The cream beast of a dog held his ground. The wolf couldn't bite his neck nor his hide; it was all protected by leather pieces, straps and sharpened stones. Instead, teeth met ankles and paws and drew blood from small cat scratches. Teeth met teeth in a flash, the Kangal angered, and the agouti wolf was suddenly overpowered, pressed against the earthy dirt and sinking with a huge paw bruising his chest, claws digging in, and worry and fear overwhelmed him, and he quivered and fretted and panted with his mouth open widely, as if no air could come to him. His lungs burned, and he cried out, and his vision became blurry, and his thoughts began to race too fast for him to see them. As fast as his pounding heartbeat, as the sound of blood pumping through his skull. The blood welled on his nose pooled and ran down in a line to the bridge between his eyes.

Then, the Kangal released his force, and stepped back. The air came rushing back almost painfully so, and the tension broke; an exhale that the wolf didn't know he'd been holding, and his shaking body slowly became limp from the exhaustion and filled once again with air. He became aware suddenly of the throbbing pain in his haunches, the stinging bite on his scruff, and the dozen minor scratches littering his face and neck and front legs, most hidden behind a thick protective pelt.

The timber wolf rolled back over onto his stomach, protecting it, tail tucked and shaking quietly; he took to the ground for sanctuary, trying to dip beneath Anertha's crust and into it below him, sinking into the soil, his nose in the dirt. His eyes looked up widely at the two dogs standing above him. He was paralysed with pulsating, freezing fear.

The Kangal pulled a thick twine rope from a small leather pack attached to his shoulder. The pointed Saluki took an end with her mouth and the Kangal held an end in his, and they looped it around the frozen wolf's neck and tied it with their teeth. The wolf was still frozen, breathing shallowing and in wild shock. Ears pinned back, eyes exposing white at the edges.

"Walk," The Kangal growled, his voice deep and gruff. "I'd kill you myself if not for our orders."

The wolf did not move. He puzzled the words as they became scrambled in his racing mind, in his madly beating heart. The Kangal tugged on the slip lead, and it tightened around the wolf's throat, who swallowed anxiously, and slowly stood, head and tail low, posture hunched, movements slow and stiff and submissive. They dragged him along with force, the Saluki behind and the Kangal ahead.

The pointed Saluki grumbled something, then spoke, "This asshole killed Kelo. He should be put to death by the Baron."

"I'm sure he will be," the Kangal replied slowly, with his own growl, "But we must follow through with orders. Bring him back alive and with little harm." Then, he chuckled, "I know that the Baron doesn't care for a wolf-" he scoffed, "in Veal Tribe. He must have other plans for the feral beast. Put him to good use, something that will serve as a better, more painful punishment."

The Saluki smirked, "That ought to do it. Must be."

The wolf was a bit taken aback. He'd just killed their friend, and somehow, neither of them seemed mournful...