Scar of Dawn - Justin Zhao (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📗

It was a dark and moonless night. The clouds ran through the air as the wind pushed them. Stars scattered around the sky like fiery sparks. The snow that fell was so close together that it seemed like a blanket of white. There was a wooden house in the distance. Smoke rose out of its stone chimney like spider webs spiraling towards the sky. Flickering yellow light shone out of its windows like a dancing flame. And inside that house the fireplace’s fire flickered as though dancing to its own beat. In the woods a wolf howled as though it had lost its mate, an owl hooted as it just caught a mouse, and a gunshot was heard, then everything was still.

 Something was wrong, he could sense it. He looked at his mate next to them. His heart softened for a moment, but then hardened once more. He couldn’t let this happen again, he had to keep watch. His golden yellow eyes scanned the snowy ground, and his sharp sensitive ears picked up every sound. He had heard the shot and now he was waiting, sitting there waiting for the hunter to come.

 He was known by many names but most commonly by Scar. That was because of the horrible scar that reached along the side of his body. It was a horrible and gruesome night. He had made the mistake of falling asleep when he heard the shot, and he had paid the price. When he woke up he found the hunter blocking the entrance. The hunter had brought the horrible contraption that killed many of his kind; his brother, his mother, and his father. He snarled, he growled, he bit the air, but nothing seemed to work. Then all of a sudden he jumped up and leapt at the hunter. The gun’s trigger was pulled and the bullet came out. He tried to dodge to the side, but he was too late. It hit him, but not fully. Half of the bullet struck him along the side of his body, tearing the flesh and fur apart. He had never experienced this kind of pain before; it was like a fire consuming his whole body. Blood gushed out of the wound, and he fell to the ground. Assuming he was dead the hunter left. He lay there twitching and after a while went still. Then his mate came out and helped nurse the wound. Even with her help, it was days before he could walk completely without pain. He had hoped for the wound to heal completely, but it never did. The fur did grow back, but it was not gray like the normal color. No, it was white, as white as snow.

He waited a little longer before going out, he had to be cautious. Scar heard nothing and saw nothing, but still went out cautiously. He had to see what had been killed. If it was something they could eat he would take it. The winter had gone off to a bad start. There weren’t many deer and his pack had been starving greatly. He followed his which eventually led him to the kill He looked at it, put his head down, and sighed, “Not again.”

One of their kind couldn’t have been killed again. A bullet straight through the heart, he had been dead for quite a while. The pain was unbearable, now he knew the only thing he could do was to fight for his pack.

As he walked back  to his den, full of grief, he found a faint trail of blood across the snow. At first he thought it was the dead wolf's blood, but as he kept walking he found out that it led right to his den. He got a got a greusome feeling in his stomach as he turned the corner into his den. His feeling was right as he saw what lay in front of him. His mate... lay on the ground, a hole through her body. 

Publication Date: 08-21-2014

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