I open my eyes, stretching my legs. It's only been a week since I tried to convince Alpha Granite, and we're already going downhill fast. No prey, at all. The forests are eerily empty of all but wolves. A few wolves have been shot since, from varying Packs. Including ours. I wasn't close with any of them, but the days are still dark for me.
    I slowly look over the dogs of the den. They're all much bonier than they were before, and I'm no exception. We're all facing this pain together.
    I force myself to my paws, shaking out my pelt. It's still dark out, and I think it might be midnight. I can't sleep when I'm this hungry. Stomach growling, I pad out of the den. The camp is empty, all of the other wolves must either be sleeping or out attempting to hunt.
I sigh, padding around the empty camp. It's silent, cold, and dark, like a haunted hallow. Every moment I expect a ghost hound to leap from the shadows and tear open my throat. I shake my head, knowing that it's just a hungry delusion. There are dens full of wolves around me. Considering a different wolf's viewpoint, I probably look like a silver and white specter, a phantom haunting her long dead home. I shudder, pelt quivering. And it's not from the cold.
   I decide to leave the camp, hoping that I can find some kind of prey. I know it's just wishful thinking, but maybe there will be something. A scrawny rabbit or anything.
I sigh, cold mist spiraling from my nostrils. The darkness seems to press down on my pelt. It's odd, considering that I usually prefer darkness. It's easier on the eyes. But now, something is different. Something is off. The only sounds I hear are echoed, and the forest is eerily empty. My footsteps are the only thing audible. There are no other animals.
I wonder if I'm alone in the forest. There has to be at least one other wolf in my Pack awake. Looking back, I realize that I didn't see any other wolves on Camp Watch. Not one. I hope that I just missed whoever it is, because we usually never skip Camp Watch.
     My thoughts are interrupted when my heart does a backflip. Deer tracks. If I can bring it down, it'll feed a good amount of wolves. Not much, seeing as it would have to go to two Packs, but at least it's a mouthful each.
      The scent is dull, but it has to be a buck. I break into a brisk trot, cutting through the cold air with excitement. But as the scent grows stronger, an odd smell is added. The previously normal deer scent is hinted with rot and the smell of blood. It's probably wounded, which will be even more helpful for me to kill it.
     The smell grows stronger the farther I go, and I finally run into it on the northern edge of the territory. I crouch down, creeping through the snow-covered bushes and closer to the buck. But when my snout pokes out of the leaves, allowing me to see it for the first time, something is wrong.
    The buck isn't held with the air that they usually do, graceful and alert. This one is hunched over, head hanging low below its scrawny shoulders. Its pelt is matted, and flecked with blood.
       There's a deep wound on its hind flank, and it looks to be a bit more than a week old. The buck's skin is hanging loosely, the rotted flesh beneath seeming to be teaming with maggots. They're going to eat the animal alive. This is a problem. The rotted leg won't be edible, and that's an entire limb less for the two Packs to eat.
    The buck hasn't moved in a while. I decide to wait to strike, considering that the deer looks like he's about to fall dead any minute now.
      There's a sudden crunching in the bushes, and a doe leaps into the clearing. She looks afraid, and it's a wonder that no wolf has killed her yet. She seems to be seeking refuge with one of the only other living deer in the forest.
     The buck lifts his head with a struggle, letting out an angry bleat. Just now I see his eyes, and there's definitely something very wrong with them. Dry, slightly crusted over. But it's not what's on the outside, it's what's inside. The regal way deer look at the forest is gone. There's a hunger there, a deep vein of insanity that's painful to even consider. Without even waiting a moment, he leaps at the doe and plunges his antlers into her ribcage. She lets out a noise so horrible that even I, a wolf taught to hunt deer from puphood is left quivering. She falls to the ground, still very alive. A few ribs are definitely broken, and thin streams of blood are cascading over her bony ribs. Not done yet, he brings down his head and starts to bite open her throat. The doe's deep eyes grow wide, and she lets out what I could only describe as a scream. I've never seen a deer fight with teeth, but this one is tearing off strips of flesh and mincing the muscle and tendon with a terrifying rage. His teeth are meant for plants, making the whole ordeal worse. Their bluntness rips instead of slices, making the doe only scream louder.
    He stops tearing when he takes off all of the flesh, down to the bone. The doe's head is hanging from an exposed, mangled spine. The buck only stops his barrage for a moment, quickly moving to the abdomen. He plunges his teeth into the corpse's soft underbelly, devouring the meat inside like a rabid carnivore. How could a buck behave this way?
    The creature attacked with an insanity similar to that of the Burmese Mountain Dog, and I realize that the wound on its leg is from the dog's jaws. Far too large to be a wolf. Is that what happened to him? Did she infect him? Those thoughts are cut short when I realize that she got a few bites on me, too. None were very deep, but it's a strong possibility that I'm in danger of being infected, too. Dodge is, also.
I reassure myself that if I was infected, it would have shown by now. I hope that the amount of time it takes to kick in is similar to that of the deer, because that would mean Dodge and I are safe. He must have been bitten before the Burmese was taken down, for obvious reasons. Dead dogs can't bite.
     I shift on my paws involuntarily, and accidentally crunch the snow loudly. The buck's head shoots up, blood dripping from its muzzle. And then I realize that my head is sticking out of the bush.
    The infected animal staggers towards me, stumbling on his scrawny, bloodied legs. I think he's about to charge me, but he falls to the ground in a heap before he can attack.
      I let out an involuntary whine of shock. The diseased animal's leg completely falls off when he hits the ground, a slew of maggots spilling out of the rotting flesh. My ears flatten, and my face twists with fear. I'm shocked, horrified. Even though the buck is dead, I'm still afraid of it. And rightfully so, his disease could mean the death of the Packs. A second victim, and on top of that, it's not even a canine. What if all warm blooded creatures are in danger?
       I start to back away slowly, turning around and running away. I feel like a coward, darting through the frigid forest with terror, as if the buck is going to stand up and chase me again. I feel like the beast is watching me, and I constantly look backwards. I'm so paranoid, running faster in hopes that I can get back to safety as soon as possible. Every disturbing picture from the scene that just played out is repeating in my brain.
      I skitter into the camp. It's still pitch dark outside, and dawn isn't even close to being on the horizon. Tail tucked between my legs, I scamper back into the den.
      I press myself against the back wall of the den, crouching down with my ears flat. I think my loud entry has woken up most of the dogs, including Dodge.
     The wolfish husky blinks heavily, stretching his legs.

"What's with all the noise?" He asks with a yawn.

      My eyes are still wide, even my left, which I can't even open completely. My fear is overriding the hardened bearclaw scars, causing the scab to bleed slightly. Not very much, nor enough to stain my pelt, but it is definitely showing the thin troughs in my cornea more vibrantly.

"T-there was a buck, but it was diseased... Like the dog..." I stutter, only realizing my inability to talk after I speak.

     Dodge seems to wake up immediately.

"Wait, what?" He asks in a shocked, serious tone.

"He had a wound on his leg, a bite mark from the Burmese. And he was acting just like her. I watched him kill another deer, and bite her neck down to the bone... Dodge, he ate her like a carnivore..." I whisper.

    Dodge's black ears are standing straight upwards, his face filling with dread.

"This is bad. That means it's spreading." He says gravely.

"Wait, Cadmium, you didn't touch it, right?" He asks in a fearful tone.

"No, it collapsed before it charged me." I tell him.

    His stony face seems to relax slightly, but is still stiff with a grave fear.

"You need to tell your Alpha. Now." Dodge insists in a tone that hints snarling. I don't think he's angry, but stressed and afraid.

I nod, worried eyes glowing in the moonlight flickering into the den. Still shuddering, I pad out and into the camp. I feel so exposed as I walk through it, but remain silent as to not awaken any other wolves.
      I've only taken a few steps when Dodge strides up beside me. He doesn't even have to say a word. I'm sure that he wants to come and help. I know I can do this on my own, but he's the type who always wants to hang around and help whenever possible. I decide that he can't do anything but help me at this point, so I let him follow me through the camp. He doesn't say anything, but his presence helps to put me at ease.