He knew that Tony would be asleep, and that this was not feeding time for the animals. He didn’t care and he could not wait for a more opportune time. He opened the first enclosure and did not halt within the feeding pen. He went directly into the enclosure proper.
The wolf had time enough to prick his ears and raise its head before Kenneth had the beast by the neck with both his hands. The animal whined and tried to knash its teeth. It kicked out feebly and shook its whole body like a fish on a hook.
Kenneth muzzled the beast and plopped it down roughly on the hard cement ground. Holding its jaw closed he tried to force his will into the mind of the animal. This was far more difficult than it had been earlier that night. Then, the animal had helped because it was curious about the person sitting in the feeding pen. This animal knew that it was being attacked and fought back with every fiber of its being.
Kenneth locked eyes with the beast and tried to push past its golden eyes. His will began to push past the golden iris of the wolf’s eyes. Suddenly he was rocked back on his heels as his mind was suddenly and violently assaulted with images and memories and smells, past hunts, far away locations. The sands of a sunny beach and the calm dew covered ground of a lush forest in spring after the big four legged prey had returned. A snow covered mountain and the hunt of a crafty snow fox, as they bounded in zigzag patterns up the steep slope. Kenneth wrenched his mind away, only barely keeping control of the wild, enraged beast in his hands.
He maintained his grip on the animal and looked at its body and fur a little more closely. The fur pattern was of a silver and brownish grey that ran in broad slashes along the body of the wolf. The muzzle was black with a white outline and neat black fur lines around its eyes. This was not Dutch. Tony had disposed of that animal a few days ago before Brian and his team had brought these animals here. And yet this wolf was able to repel him just as Dutch had done.
The blood he had drunk had made him strong though, stronger than he had ever been when confronting Dutch. He would have this wolf. If his world came crashing down around him he would not leave without this victory. He had learned to master wolves as their creators and forbearers had done. He would take that secret to the grave if need be, but he would not be thwarted again by another four legged animal!
Gripping the wolf’s muzzle tighter he again locked eyes with it. He forced his will outward. Again the assault of images and memories assailed him. He tried to ride the smells, the sensations. It was all so beautiful and terrifying and painful. The smell of the tall grass of the windswept plain after the night rain was clean and lush like the earth that produced it. The sweet flood of morning dawn through the rocky terrain of the mountains as he looked down into the shade covered valleys below. A snow capped mountain in the distance, reflecting the beautiful blue white snow and the promise of water and the return of the big prey that the pack hunted for survival. The chill of the stream as it splashed around him as he attacked a doe that had come to drink.
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The smells and memories threatened to overtake him but he reground himself and plowed forward. The smell of the ocean as he ran atop a rocky cliff face had a rich tangy feel that he could almost taste. The feel of soft pine needles silently pressing down into the soft earthen floor of the forest cushioned his deep pads as he stalked a large antlered moose. The taste of warm blood as it spilled into the dirty white snow after he had caught a white, long eared rabbit.
He could feel the push back from the images, the memories fighting against him. It was a kin to walking against a hurricane but he would not be defeated, not now, not by this thing.
A snow capped mountain reflecting orange and red against the setting sun and the long shadows growing longer as the sun continued to sink. The frothy waves lapping up the beach hardening the soft sand as his furred paws dug in and his body flew over the land. The scent of the prey just before the kill and the way the blood soaked into his fur and the ground surrounding the carcass.
He pushed his will against the onslaught. There was no going back. He was weakening, and he was starting to lose himself in the memories. The blood he had drunk had strengthened him but he could only take so much. He forced his will forward into the maelstrom.
Snow, deep and cold pressed against his underbelly as his powerful forepaws cut through the drifts, chasing movement through the meadow. The mountain jutting up from the surrounding forest as the late snows melted and ran down in long rivulets and rivers feeding the lakes and streams, the rocky paramount of the mountain standing in sharp relief against the crisp blue sky of the late spring morning. Streams of sunlight filtered down at beautiful angles through the forest in the cool morning, providing light and warm.
He screamed out against the pain and at last threw himself back away from the animal, pushing the muzzle away at the same time.
Kenneth sat there watching the wolf pick itself up and trot away, all the while keeping its two deep golden eyes on the vampire. It kept itself a good distance from him but also from the fence that stood behind him.
He in turn picked himself up, growling and hating himself for not being able to push through the onslaught that he had weathered. He wanted to kill something, he wanted that animal and everyone who had ever stood in his way dead!
He took a deep breath and exited the enclosure. There was nothing to be gained from anger or vengeance. It was a worthless animal that needn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet it did.
He stalked around the Zoo. Glaring at the captured animals and the walls that now held him against the sunlight that bathed the world outside, he continued to walk restlessly. He was just as trapped in here as the animals that he had had captured. He had to think.