The man moved swiftly across the lush forest floor. The foliage was still damp from the morning dew. Orange beams from the rising morning sun illuminated his path.

The man had dark, raven hair that fell down a muscled back. He wore nothing more than a simple linen loincloth that hung to his knees. His caramel-colored skin was caked in dirt smears and grass stains.

At first glance, the man appeared primal, perhaps… beastly, but the glow of his warm brown eyes betrayed a strong intellect. He was searching for something, he had been from the moment the sun broke over the horizon.

His belly gurgled with hunger, and this worried him. If he was this hungry, he could not imagine how his mate must feel, her belly swollen with child. 

They needed something to fill their bellies, and it was not long ago he had stumbled upon a good bounty. Had it been one sunrise ago, or two?

He had never been good at keeping track of such a thing, but now it seemed like it would be useful to have some kind of system for that.

He would have to work on that later. For now, he was racking his mind, searching his memory, comparing it to the landscape in front of him.

Why had he not marked where he found that tree with the low-hanging fruit? He salivated, imagining the sweet liquid that flowed from the fruit when he bit into the flesh.

He remembered now why he had not taken note of the spot. They had been in a hurry to find shelter from the night, as well as the storm that had just passed.

Darkness belonged to the wolves, and if he and his mate had not found shelter by nightfall, they would have belonged to the beasts as well.

The wolves were wise. They hunted in packs. They understood their strength came from numbers, and they were good at cutting off groups and hunting them down one at a time.

The man knew this because he had witnessed it himself. It was only a few sunsets ago that he had a pack as well, other men like him, and women too.

There were only a handful of them, but they had discovered when they foraged together, slept together, made shelters together, they were stronger. Their survival odds became better. 

His pack had made a grave mistake though. They had stayed in one place too long. They had allowed themselves to be lulled into a false sense of security.

Emboldened by their new numbers, and the bountiful benefits of cooperation. They had started to sleep in the same place, out in the open at night, as the warm weather permitted. 

Those were peaceful times. The man’s chest swelled at the memory of them. It had been the season of the sun. The weather was always pleasant, the food plentiful.

The vegetation grew untamed, drawing plenty of animals for hunting;  plenty of fruits, leeks, and herbs to gather. 

It was during that time, the season of the sun, that he had met his mate. Her curvy figure stirred primal feelings, and her smile, reminded him of the morning sun.

Her skin was softer than the pelts she wore. She was bright too, and had a way of sensing danger. that seemed supernatural. 

She had known somehow that something was wrong only moments before the wolves descended on their camp. If it had not been for her keen senses, they too would now rest in the bellies of the clever beasts. 

Looking back he felt so foolish. Of course something so sweet could not last. For weeks he had stuffed himself with food by day, and lie with his mate at night. It wasn’t long before he noticed a swelling in his mate’s belly. 

Another member to make the pack stronger, and it only made him feel closer to her, more connected. Things were good for so long, they had forgotten to fear, and that was their fatal mistake. It only took one night of neglect. A soft rain in the dead of twilight to extinguish their campfire. The wolves did not hesitate.

It was his mate that stirred in the middle of the night. She woke him. He remembered scowling at her. His mouth had moved to protest, but she had quickly cupped her hand over it. Just as she did, a mournful howl cut through the cold night. The chill he felt had nothing to do with the weather. 

He made a move to warn the others, but froze where he stood when he saw the shadow of a skulking wolf creeping near the entrance of their makeshift hide hut.

What had seemed like such a good idea when they had made them, in that moment, felt so inadequate, so fragile. Why had he simply not stayed in the caves with their sturdy rock walls, like their wise ancestors? 

Would death be the price for my arrogance?

He remembered the cold, seizing bite of fear as the shadow sniffed around the entrance. Dread flooded him like ice water in his veins. He could not move, could not think.

He felt a sharp slap across his chest and instinctively raised his hands. They found the cool wood of his spear, which his mate had shoved into his arms.

Her warm, aware eyes met his, and he found courage in them. His senses returned. ‘Bless her’ he thought, thankful for the comforting weight of the weapon.

He cocked the spear back and crouched, poised. If the wolf crossed the threshold, he would strike. There was a moment of still silence.

The wolf tested the air with its nostrils. The man could smell his own stink, so he knew it was only a matter of time before the wolf did as well. “Go!” he motioned to his mate. Her eyes widened and she shook her head furiously.

The man scowled, pointing at her bulging belly, “Go!” he mouthed again. 

She met his fiery gaze with her own, not budging. Her defiance somehow made him both proud and angry.

Just as he was about to motion her to leave once more, piercing, yellow eyes appeared in the darkness. He could feel those eyes study him hungrily. There was a flash of white fangs and a throaty, low growl. It was too late...