QUINTON CONRAD - STALKER

Quinton Conrad is a 19-year-old writer from Phillipsburg, Kansas. He discovered his love for writing at the age of twelve and has kept writing every day since. Quinton is currently enrolled in the Creative Writing for Entertainment program at Full Sail University in Winter Park, Florida.

​Stalker

​            The wolf kept his head low. His black fur shone in the moonlight as he crept forward. His paws fell lightly on the grass, leaving imprints. His dark blue eyes watched the prey before him: a flock of sheep. He flicked his fangs with his tongue, creeping forward as he let out a low growl. His gaze shifted up as one of his many prey lifted its head, looking in his direction. He stopped, digging his claws into the dirt as he leaned back. His breathing slowed, and his body remained motionless as he waited. The single alerted sheep lowered its head to the grass.
The wolf sprung forward.
            His black fur flat against his body, he sprinted at the herd as his paws throwing loose dirt behind him. Saliva flew from his maw as he leapt at a sheep. His front claws and fangs sunk into flesh. The wolf and the sheep tumbled to the dirt, and the predator tore into its prey. Crimson splattered across grass and wool, and the sheep screamed before being silenced by a violent ripping sound. For a moment, both animals were still, but only the wolf rose to its feet.
            The wolf tore into its meal, chomping bloody flesh as he licked his chops. Pound after pound of meat slid into the wolf’s stomach, but before he could finish his meal, a loud crack split the air. His ears perked up, but when another crack split the air, he yelped as something hot tore through his flank. He darted toward the trees he’d emerged from, crack after crack entering his ears as shards of dirt and bark hit his pelt. He didn’t stop running until the cracks ceased, finally allowing him to stop and turn back toward the sheep carcass.
            Standing at the edge of the tree line was a form he knew all too well. He could smell the smoke, salt, and confusing unnatural odor of the two-legged body. His ears perked up again as the form shouted something, and he lowered himself to the ground as he crept forward. He had a meal to finish.
            The wolf watched the two-legged form, his gaze unwavering as the wind whistled through the trees. The smoke continued to drift into his snout, but he pressed on, nearing the edge of the trees once again.
As he approached, another of his kind barked, and his eyes shifted lower. By the two-legged form stood a black and white canine, and their eyes met. Each let out a growl, but when the wolf bared his teeth, the other canine let out a whine. It turned to flee, yanking the two-legged form backward with it. The two-legged animal’s voice, lower than before, spoke again, yanking its companion toward it. The wolf watched as the other canine tore itself from the two-legged animal’s grip and fled, leaving only the wolf and his new prey.
             The wolf let out a low growl, concealing himself in the shadows of the final few trees. Baring his teeth, the wolf charged forward, leaping for the two-legged animal. The two-legged animal screamed like the sheep before it, and both tumbled to the ground as a final crack split the air. As silence fell upon the earth, one predator rose and regained its hold on the flock of sheep beyond the trees.