Part 3: The Gate’s Guardians
“Them drugs the Doc gave you ain’t done a thing to slow her down boss!” A shout rose above the clamour.
“No, clearly not,” responded the man with glowing eyes, “she has to tire, eventually. If not, there’s still a price for her corpse. Just don’t spill too much of her blood…” he bent to his left and retched loudly. Something horrible splattered the snow at his feet.
Ankit was fixated—haunted even—by this man-thing. He had crossed paths with many horrible, heartless individuals in his life, but no one quite matched up to this. Not only in the way he looked, the way he spoke, or the cruelty, but as much, it was the uncomfortable feeling that was rising in Ankit’s chest.
“Not sure about that Marko,” another raider yelled as he recoiled from snapping jaws. “She don’t look to be tiring to me.”
For the first time, Ankit noticed that the other raiders shared one of their leader’s unique qualities. All of their eyes glowed too, but more like the Phungz addicts back home. One of them lunged at the Wolf, piercing her side with a spear. The creature reacted with blinding speed, whipping round—the chain attached to the trap snapped tight, nearly pulling free from its anchor—her jaw closed on the offending weapon and it snapped and splintered. All of the raiders stepped back in fear.
Marko grunted angrily. In unison, they recovered their composure and closed the circle. Ankit stared at the giant Wolf and was struck again with the overwhelming feeling that he had to intervene, that this could not be allowed to play out any longer. As loud as the voice asking him to ‘leave, run,’ was screaming, the other one rose above it.

Ankit took a breath and surveyed the clearing. At first glance it seemed there wasn’t much to be done. If all his intervention led to was his own immediate death, and no help to the Wolf, what was the point?
He took another look around, but still nothing leapt out at him. The raiders were growing excited again and one of them thrust forward an attempted stab. Fortunately he missed, but to Ankit’s surprise Marko immediately pulled a handgun from his belt and shot him. Not sure what to expect, Ankit looked at each of the other raiders for their reaction.
Nothing.
No response. Even those nearest to their now-dead compatriot barely flinched. It was chilling. His sense of urgency intensified. He had to come up with some sort of distraction, and fast.
The lights!
Of course, all around the clearing were standing those gas and electric lamps. They were the only source of light, and the electric lights were providing most of it. There had to be some source of electricity somewhere, some sort of generator, and it would probably be tucked away to deaden the noise. Ankit closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sounds.
It didn’t take long for him to isolate a familiar, rhythmic rumbling. It was to his left. He moved towards the sound, being extra careful to stay in cover. A little ways back down the track he’d come in on, the noise grew louder. Muffled, and nearly drowned out by the crew’s shouts, but unmistakable.
Across the trail, he spotted an old shed tucked into the slope. Making his way down and across the track, he hoped it was still taking the entire crew to pacify the Wolf. Arriving at the shed, it was clear that this was the generator housing. A thick cable ran up the hill towards the clearing. At its end was a pair of heavy clamps, which were attached to crude pins jutting through the wall.
Ankit spent little time thinking about it. He simply yanked at the cable, detaching the clamps from the pins. Bright arcs leapt between them, and a strange odour filled Ankit’s nostrils. Immediately, he turned and started running, hearing the generator surging behind him. As he reached the opposing slope, there was a loud bang, and a chain of splutters as the generator stalled.
He wasn’t sure how long it might take to get the generator going again, but based on the smoke that was now issuing from the generator shed, he was hopeful it would be a while. The light coming from over the crest had dimmed significantly, and he could hear the confusion and outrage already. By the time he was safely back in his spot overlooking the clearing, the group had scattered. Only a couple of women, a man, and Marko remained in position circling the Wolf.
“Now what do you think I’ll do with whoever forgot to refuel the damn thing?” Marko called loudly after the others. His eyes were far more vivid and sinister in the low light of the three gas lamps.
Ankit took out his catapult.
“Boss!” a shout echoed from the group who’d gone to check the generator shed. “The leads were yanked. This’ll take some time.”
“Well, who do you think’s done that you idiots?” Marko coughed. He looked around the clearing and out into the surrounding darkness. “Someone’s here! Be on your guard…”
Marko—with his glowing tears that streamed from glowing eyes—looked suddenly even more intimidating to Ankit, if that were possible. He straightened up, and they seemed to shift in hue; they looked more green as he searched the shadows.
“I’m going to check. You three make sure she stays put.” He nodded at the Wolf as his voice rasped.
Now was Ankit’s chance. He waited just long enough for Marko to be out of the clearing and took a shot at the brightest of the gas lamps. It went out with a sharp pop as the damaged wick burnt out. One of the remaining raiders turned slowly and shuffled, his lapse inspiring the Wolf to lash out at him unsteadily. Reactions slowed, another eventually pressed her back with a cruel jab. The last gazed about, then up at the extinguished light, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Ankit took out the remaining two lights with precision. Then, moving quickly and staying in the shadows, he approached. He thought he saw the Wolf looking at him through the darkness, her bright eyes tracking as he moved. Her front legs buckled and she was barely able to keep her head aloft—with the trap biting at her leg, and with each act of defiance—she was tiring. He sensed her fear.
Club in hand, he darted out of the shadows. Up first was the taller of the female raiders, who received a stiff smack to the back of the skull. She dropped like a sack of potatoes. What light remained was just barely enough for the raiders to know they were under attack. Still, he had enough time to reach, and take out the second raider in the same way as the first. Then, standing on the spot, he dropped to his knees, spun and threw his club accurately at the face of the last.
The club struck the raider around the eyes with a wicked crack. Ankit was already on the move to collect before the man hit the ground. He could hear Marko yelling at the others near the generator shed.
Still in the clear, but must work quickly.
He turned to face the Wolf. She was sitting on her hindquarters, licking at her leg where the trap bit. She did not seem at all fearful of him. After a moment’s hesitation, he approached. When he was close enough, she looked up and cocked her head to one side. He felt he should speak.
“May I?” he asked. Unsure what sort of response he was expecting.
She offered up her damaged leg for him to remove the trap. He felt like he should be surprised, but he wasn’t. Yet another oddity to add to this evening’s list. Bending over to inspect the nasty mechanism, he first tried to pry open the trap carefully with his hands, but it was stronger than he expected, and they slipped. The Wolf snapped at him in pain, breaking the skin on his arm. He leapt back and looked at her, betrayed, slapping his palm on the wound.
He saw her regret instantly. He’d hurt her, and she’d reacted involuntarily. Nothing could be more clear from those deep, white, burning orbs. His head spun, a delayed wave of pain. Shaking it off, he took his club from the small of his back and wedged it into the base of the trap, then he pressed it down as he pulled at the jaws. With a click, the club wedged the trap open, and the wolf stepped out. She placed her full weight on her paw, whelped, and raised it back off the ground. When she tried again, she placed it down more gently.
Ankit’s head began to swim, and he felt heavy. He leant forward to retrieve his club and found himself staring at his arm. There was something odd about the bite mark, it was turning dark, and his arm felt heavy. He reached out for his club, but instead, planted his hand in the blood-splattered snow to avoid falling on his face.
The Wolf growled. Ankit raised his head. She was standing, staring past him, teeth bared and eyes in flame. Her glassy hair bristled down her back, catching the light and splashing it around the clearing.
“Well well… who do we have here?” Marko crackled, standing just behind him.
The wolf, still bristling, took a couple of steps back and paused. With a last glance at Ankit, she turned and ran away up the slope.
Marko burst into laughter, which quickly turned into coughing. “I suppose that’s the only sort of gratitude you can expect from an animal.”
Ankit had no strength. He attempted to grab his club, but could barely lift his hand from the snow. It wouldn’t have mattered. The blow came swiftly, a heavy crack to the back of his head, and he dropped.
The last thing he remembered—later when he tried to piece things back together—was a howl.
Some time must have passed. Ankit had no reference for how much, but it was now daytime. His eyes stung as he tried to open them. Whether it was that or the blow he’d taken from Marko, his head felt several sizes too small for his brain. While his sight was still clearing, his sense of smell was heightened, and he was sure he could smell wet fur. Then a sensation, something rough dragging at his arm.
He looked down, his sight came into focus, and he tried to remain calm.
A white Wolf, the same one from earlier, was licking his bite. His forearm was now a much darker shade than the other, and his veins had blackened so that they were visible in a pattern reaching out from the wound. She moved to his wrists and bit through the ropes that he had been tied up with, then returned to licking his arm.
His eyes had by now adjusted to the light, so he tried to get his bearings. He was sitting up against a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing. If he were stronger, he might have jumped in surprise as he spotted at least four more Wolves standing around. All were larger than her, of different colours, though their fur all shared that same glassy quality, and their eyes all burned white in the same way.
One by one, they looked over at him and nodded their heads. It was only then that Ankit noticed the dead raiders scattered around the clearing. Not all of them, not the full count. Some from the night before were missing. Most notably, Marko, with his own glowing eyes, was nowhere to be seen.
Ankit sheathed his club, which had been placed conveniently beside him, and tried to stand, but he still had no strength. The Wolf lay down in front of him and gestured to her back. He looked her in the eyes before gently grabbing a handful of fur and pulling himself over her back like a rider would mount a horse.
She rose and started trotting up the trail. The other four Wolves caught up and kept pace alongside her. Ankit felt himself drifting off. As he did, he heard howling. A warm vibration radiated through his chest.
It was a song.
One called, another responded. Then a chorus. More and more warmth filled him and he felt all the pain and fear of the past weeks washing away. Another melody drifted over him. It was in his arm now, where the Wolf had been soothing his wound. He felt the warmth enter there and rush through his body, up to the painful lump on his skull first, then everywhere else. Finally, sleep took him.
Has anyone ever felt this warm?
We’ll be back soon with another Journal entry, and next month with the next episode of Ankit’s story.
Illustrations by Midjourney & G.G.B.
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