Captain’s Logos

Paranoia changed quickly to full-blown fear as the rotund scout watched his fellow campers separate themselves further and further from him. He hobbled along as best he could, but he had no chance of keeping up with the group. He could barely keep up with them when he was walking fine.

He knew that something had been in the woods the entire time. No one would listen to him, of course. No one ever listens to the fat kid, he knew that. He was just some lazy pathetic chunker, out of his element and oblivious of the ways of the wild. Far be it for some couch potato to have the ability to see and hear imminent danger. These angry thoughts flew through the boy's head, along with many others as he traversed the ever-darkening path. His footsteps grew surprisingly sure, as he worked his way down, and although he was still wincing every time he planted his left foot, he was doing so with greater speed and accuracy than ever before.

Not that it mattered now. He was far enough behind the herd that he knew his chances of being singled out were all but certain. He wanted to stop and get the bowie knife he had used for whittling saplings out of his pack, but he could not. His legs would not allow it, and even the thought of slowing down sent a wave of fear and adrenaline through his body that made him shiver.

He could hear it all the time now, once to his left, then on his right; snorting and panting and then a low rumbling growl. Now it was behind him, he could feel it bearing down on him. He lunged forward haphazardly, clutching onto anything his blind hands could find to balance. Now it was directly in front of him. He froze, short of breath, and watched two yellow eyes floating in the darkness, eyes that knew; eyes that were reasoning and calculating every move he made. Clutching his pocket, he searched frantically for anything he could use and found...chocolate. The cynic deep inside him could not let this ironic moment pass without a quick mental jab, even as his heart-pounded through his rib cage he thought that it might serve as a fitting last meal.

Then he had an idea. Still in his pocket, he unwrapped the chocolate bar from the foil covering and began crushing the chocolate inside his pants pocket. His chubby fingers, gorged with blood and adrenaline, began softening and then melting the bar. All the while, he watched two eyes move closer and closer until a dark, hulking figure emerged around it. The wolf, fangs bared, hair bristled, moved slowly and assuredly closer to the boy, each step more intent then the last until he was almost in a full crouch with both hind legs coiled and cocked for attack, his head so low his slobbery saliva hung off his fangs and reached the ground, melting the snow wherever it landed. His rancid breath hung in the air as water vapor like a dragon fuming smoke.

The boy wanted to run. He knew that was exactly what the wolf was waiting for, but each grueling second the desire became stronger and stronger until he felt he was ready to burst. Still he kept still and silent, his hand deep inside his pocket massaging a blob of melted chocolate.

Now the wolf was within ten feet. Now seven. Each second passed like a decade but the boy did not run nor did he scream. He was close now, so close he could see each razor-sharp tooth in the wolf's mouth, he could hear he deep grumbling within the wolf's bowels. He knew he only had one chance, and he had to get it right or it was useless.

All of a sudden the boy felt calm, almost removed from the situation. This was it.

The wolf sprang forward both front paws aimed directly at the boy's chest, his jaws aimed at the boy's neck. Just as he did this, the boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and thrust it, as best he could in the wolf's eyes, trying to find the soft tissue between the sockets and the fur and the fangs. All the while he smeared the sap-chocolate concoction wherever he could - eyes, ears, mouth, nose.

Now he was down on the ground and the wolf was on top of him. Now he screamed and kicked and scratched but soon the wolf had his arms pinned down with his overpowering forelegs . He locked his jaws around the boy's neck and he felt a sharp pain and then the very strange sensation of skin giving way to tooth and insertion. The pain gave him a jolt of energy and he freed his right hand just enough to jab it one last time, all fingers extended, into the wolf's face. His thumb felt a strange wet softness, and he pressed harder. The wolf's grip around his neck relented enough for the boy to twist free, and for a moment he saw it's head, smeared with chocolate, his thumb one knuckle deep into the wolf's right eye. The wolf yelped and jumped back, shaking the boy's thumb free of it's eye socket. He shook himself off, whining and pawing at his eye which was covered in chocolate, backing up and then rolling in the dirt, visibly frustrated.

The boy had a chance to gather himself, and he watched the wolf perform this dance of agony, praying the pain would debilitate the wolf enough for him to leave; not only infuriate him. His left shoulder and neck were a mess of hair, dirt, blood and skin and although he could not see clearly, he knew that he was in bad shape. As his adrenaline subsided slightly, he could feel his pulse reverberating through his body as if each beat of the heart carried along with it an electric jolt. He tried to stand up but could not. He yelled and threw sticks and twigs at the wolf, who was now re-gaining composure, but even this effort was wasted as he could not muster enough strength to do anything but cause a scene.

The wolf, angry and hurt, looked at the boy with his one good eye. He saw him as a blur, arms flailing, yelling loudly, but in the same spot that he had been. He licked his chops once more, bared his fangs and leapt.

The boy saw the wolf come at him, fell on the ground with both legs kicking at the wolf, screamed frantically as he felt the weight bear down on him, and then black.