The wind was cold at his back, pushing him onward and taking cool fingers through his hair. It bit at his ears and reddened his skin, stiffened his joints and made his eyes tear, but still there was no snow. The sky was a flat slate of gray, the sun absent, and the forest was cast in muted light with deep shadows crawling the ground. The forest floor was blanketed with pine needles, some browned and dead while others were still green. They softened the tread of his boots, and he walked through the woods mostly quiet, head down to watch his step, rifle heavy at his back.

He paused when he noticed the silence, kept his head down as he listened. The birds had lost their songs to the wind and they’d gone with it, leaving a tense absence in their wake. Only the drifting breeze talked, muttering in the trees. When he raised his eyes, it was to find the sight of wolves before him, thirty feet away and pale as specters in the gray. Their fur ruffled in the moving air, but they remained still, watching him with unwavering yellow eyes.

While the hair rose on the back of his neck, he made no move for his rifle. He stood, non threatening, his shoulders hunched and his head ducked, hands in his pockets. His heart was thumping a little harder than normal, and his pulse was fluttery, but he wasn’t exactly scared. Unsettled, certainly, but not afraid. The wolves on the property had always been docile, never even gone after the livestock. They were still wild though, and many in numbers. Only three were visible, but he knew there were others he couldn’t see in the thick of the brush, waiting for the actions of the ones in front of him. The front wolf, the closest, was a scarred up female. He’d seen her before, running with the lean male off to the right. If he wasn’t mistaken, the smallest of the trio was a cub of theirs. It was less intense as it’s parents, lifting and lowering its head, flickering it’s flagged ears and swishing it’s tail. It was curious.

Taking a deep breath of frigid air, he kept his eyes on the female and took a step forward. She didn’t move. He started walking, slowly, and as he got closer, both dominate wolves eased to the sides, parting to either side like a Red Sea. The young wolf, less experienced, got nervous and back off, vanishing in the dark of the forest. The male and female remained, like statue sentries as he passed. And then they followed.

Skin crawling, he continued through the woods, conscious of the wolves behind. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if he had enough bullets to match the pack’s numbers.

If he inclined left, he could hit the ridge and double back to the horse fields. They were still a good distance from the house, but the wolves knew better then to enter the pastures, because death was imminent when one of those fences was crossed.

So with that in mind, he turned left and walked, steadily, unhurriedly. There was rule with the wolves. Do not run.

When he got to the fields and was crossing through, he halted, turning to look back from where he come. A little ways up the hills, where the forest began, the wolves lined up, watching him. He looked to his right as one of the horses approached, sidling up beside him, the mare’s bright eyes on her predators. She rumbled in her chest, so close he could feel it, and she tossed her head. He put a hand to her neck, a comforting gesture, and pushed lightly, guiding her away. When he glanced back, the wolves were gone, and the birds where singing again.