The Wolf

The who­le Sce­ne:

The wolf was thin, but not emacia­ted. I jud­ged it to weigh perhaps eigh­ty or nine­ty pounds; less than me, but not enough to give me any gre­at advan­ta­ge. The leverage was defi­ni­te­ly in the animal’s favor; four legs against two gave bet­ter balan­ce on the slip­pe­ry crust of snow. I hoped bra­cing my back against the wall would help.
A cer­tain fee­ling of empti­ness at my back told me I had reached the cor­ner. The wolf was some twen­ty feet away. This was it. I scra­ped enough snow from under my feet to give good foo­ting and wai­ted.
I didn’t even see the wolf lea­ve the ground. I could swe­ar I had been watching its eyes, but if the deci­si­on to leap had regis­te­red the­re, it had been fol­lo­wed by action too swift­ly to note. It was instinct, not thought, that rai­sed my arm as a whitish-grey blur hurt­led toward me.
The teeth sank into the pad­ding with a force that brui­sed my arm. It was hea­vier than I thought; I was unpre­pa­red for the weight, and my arm sag­ged. I had plan­ned to try to throw the beast against the wall, perhaps stun­ning it. Ins­te­ad, I hea­ved mys­elf at the wall, squa­shing the wolf bet­ween the stone blocks and my hip. I strugg­led to wrap the loo­se cloak around it. Claws shred­ded my skirt and scra­ped my thigh. I dro­ve a knee vicious­ly into its chest, eli­ci­ting a strang­led yelp. Only then did I rea­li­ze that the odd, grow­ling whim­pers were com­ing from me and not the wolf.
Stran­ge­ly enough, I was not at all frigh­te­ned now, though I had been ter­ri­fied watching the wolf stalk me. The­re was room in my mind for only one thought: I would kill this ani­mal, or it would kill me. The­re­fo­re, I was going to kill it.
The­re comes a tur­ning point in inten­se phy­si­cal strugg­le whe­re one aban­dons oneself to a pro­f­li­ga­te usa­ge of strength and bodi­ly resour­ce, igno­ring the costs until the strugg­le is over. Women find this point in child­birth; men in batt­le.

Past that cer­tain point, you lose all fear of pain or inju­ry. Life beco­mes very simp­le at that point; you will do what you are try­ing to do, or die in the attempt, and it does not real­ly mat­ter much which.
I had seen this sort of strugg­le during my trai­ning on the wards, but never had I expe­ri­en­ced it befo­re. Now all my con­cen­tra­ti­on was focu­sed on the jaws locked around my forearm and the wri­t­hing demon tearing at my body.
I mana­ged to bang the beast’s head against the wall, but not hard enough to do much good. I was gro­wing tired rapidly; had the wolf been in good con­di­ti­on, I would have had no chan­ce. I hadn’t much now, but took what the­re was. I fell on the ani­mal, pin­ning it under me and knocking the wind from it in a gust of car­ri­on bre­ath. It reco­ve­r­ed almost imme­dia­te­ly and began squir­ming bene­ath me, but the second’s rela­xa­ti­on enab­led me to get it off my arm, one hand clam­ped under its wet muz­zle.
By for­cing my fin­gers back into the cor­ners of its mouth, I mana­ged to keep them out from bet­ween the scis­so­ring car­n­as­si­al teeth. Sali­va drizz­led down my arm. I was lying flat on top of the wolf. The cor­ner of the pri­son wall was perhaps eigh­te­en inches ahead of me. Somehow I must get the­re, without releasing the fury that hea­ved and squir­med under me.
Scrabb­ling with my feet, pres­sing down with all my might, I pushed mys­elf for­ward inch by inch, con­stant­ly strai­ning to keep the fangs from my throat. It can­not have taken more than a few minu­tes to move tho­se eigh­te­en inches, but it see­med I had lain the­re most of my life, locked in batt­le with this beast who­se hind claws raked my legs, see­king a good rip­ping purcha­se in my bel­ly.
At last I could see around the cor­ner. The blunt ang­le of stone was direct­ly in front of my face. Now was the tri­cky part. I must maneu­ver the wolf’s body to allow me to get both hands under the muz­zle; I would never be able to exert the necessa­ry force with one.I rol­led abrupt­ly away, and the wolf slithe­red at once into the small clear space bet­ween my body and the wall. Befo­re it could rise to its feet, I brought my knee up as hard as I could. The wolf grun­ted as my knee dro­ve into its side, pin­ning it, howe­ver flee­ting­ly, against the wall.
I had both hands bene­ath its jaw now. The fin­gers of one hand were actual­ly in its mouth. I could feel a crus­hing sting across my gloved knuck­les, but igno­red it as I forced the hai­ry head back, and back, and back again, using the ang­le of the wall as a ful­crum for the lever of the beast’s body. I thought my arms would break, but this was the only chan­ce.
The­re was no audi­ble noi­se, but I felt the rever­be­ra­ti­on through the who­le body as the neck snap­ped. The strai­ning limbs — and the blad­der — at once rela­xed. The into­le­ra­ble strain on my arms now released, I drop­ped, as limp as the dying wolf. I could feel the beast’s heart fibril­la­ting bene­ath my cheek, the only part still capa­ble of a death strugg­le. The strin­gy fur stank of ammo­nia and sog­gy hair. I wan­ted to move away, but could not.I think I must have slept for a moment, odd as that sounds, cheek pil­lo­wed on the corp­se. I ope­ned my eyes to see the gree­nish stone of the pri­son a few inches in front of my nose. Only the thought of what was tran­spi­ring on the other side of that wall got me to my feet.
I stumb­led down the ditch, cloak drag­ged over one shoul­der, trip­ping on stones hid­den in the snow, ban­ging my shins pain­ful­ly on half-buried tree bran­ches. Sub­con­scious­ly, I must have been awa­re that wol­ves usual­ly run in packs, becau­se I do not recall being sur­pri­sed by the howl that wave­r­ed out of the forest above and behind me. If I felt any­thing, it was black rage at what see­med a con­spi­ra­cy to thwart and delay me.
Wea­ri­ly I tur­ned to see whe­re the sound had come from. I was in the open away from the pri­son by this time; no wall to brace my back against, and no wea­pon to hand. It had been luck as much as any­thing that hel­ped me with the first wolf; the­re was not a chan­ce in a thousand that I could kill ano­t­her ani­mal bare-han­ded — and how many more might the­re be? The pack I had seen fee­ding in the moon­light in the sum­mer had had at least ten wol­ves. I could hear in memo­ry the sounds of their teeth scra­ping, and the crack of brea­king bones. The only ques­ti­on now was whe­ther I bothe­red to fight at all, or whe­ther I would rather just lie down in the snow and give up. That opti­on see­med remar­kab­ly attrac­tive, all things con­s­i­de­red.
Still, Jamie had given up his life, and con­s­i­der­ab­ly more than that, to get me out of the pri­son. I owed it to him at least to try.

wolf_new

All rights for the Pic­ture of Claire go to the right­ful owner Starz/​Sony
The Wolf is from wall​pa​per​.com
Quote and Excerpt by Diana Gabal­don from “Outlander“
I own not­hing but the editing
Heike Ginger Ba Written by:

|Human|Woman|Mother|Wife|Friend| Photographer| Blogger| |TV-Junkie|Photoshop-Beginner|Art-Lover|Cologne-based|Outlander-addict |Sherlockian |TWD-devoted

6 Comments

  1. Jan Moutz
    November 2
    Reply

    This was such an exci­ting part of the book. Clai­re was so very deter­mi­ned to get away and fine help for Jamie. She was found and taken to MacRannock’s. The cops came to the res­cue! Jamie was res­cued ‚and taken back to MacRannock’s. Clai­re ten­ded to his hand.
    We lear­ned about Ellen’s brace­lets and Murtagh’s love for her. We found out whe­re the Scotch pearls came from. We met John Way­ne! Clai­re kil­led a boy to pro­tect Jamie. They made it to Fran­ce despi­te per­va­si­veness!
    Aww, the book is always bet­ter! Thank you, Hei­ke! I remem­ber when!?

    • Heike Ginger Ba
      November 2
      Reply

      Hi Jan,

      yess all this..love every sin­gle moment…event the not so important ones..Thanks for you nice com­ment again :)..LG Hei­ke Gin­ger

      • Jan Moutz
        November 3
        Reply

        That is sup­po­sed to be COOS! And I pro­of-read this! No ques­ti­on mark at end eit­her!

        Wri­ting and spel­ling are hard enough! I don’t need any help from my Kind­le ‘s auto-cor­rect!

        Thank you for all your beau­ti­ful work and ide­as!

        • Heike Ginger Ba
          November 3
          Reply

          you are welcome..its for me a plea­su­re to do and help me throught WithOut­lan­der very much :)..

  2. Cookie
    November 3
    Reply

    You know, the­re were so many bits and pie­ces left out.…because at least every other page could have been a gre­at sce­ne. The first sea­son would have went on for 5 years…by the time we get to book 3, Sam and Cait would be the actu­al age of Jamie and Clai­re! Thank You so much for sharing your talents.….you make me smi­le ever­y­day!

    • Heike Ginger Ba
      November 3
      Reply

      Hi Coo­kie,

      you are right…but some sce­nes i real­ly mis­sed badly..Glad i could make you hap­py :).. LG Hei­ke Gin­ger

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