BY MICHAEL A. CLARK
Copyright is held by the author.
“YOU MUST go,” the old bull sighed.
“No!” snorted the young bull.
“I said go.” The old bull nosed at a clump of wild radish. These were so sweet, he thought. Why were such succulent tastes now mere plodding fuel? The old bull’s hooves felt mired in mud. Winter was coming and he didn’t have the appetite to bulk up for the coming snows. And there was a more immediate danger.
“I’m not leaving you,” said the young bull.
“Go.” said the old bull, lifting his head. “Obey your elders . . . for once.” He pawed at the radish, as if to will more flavour into its roots.
“The herd isn’t far, if we start NOW!”
He’ll make a good prime, thought the old bull. If he survived the next few hours.
A howl carried on the rising wind.
The young bull stiffened. He knew that sound from his calving days. Thank the Great Maker the herd was always strong enough to protect him. As he would need to be, to protect the old bull.
“We need to go NOW.” the young bull said, prodding the old bull with his horns. Bad etiquette, but the old bull needed prodding.
“I heard,” replied the old bull. “I am not deaf, you know.”
“Then you can hear that we need to move. NOW!”
“Go,” the old bull slumped. “When you live to be my years, you will understand. First, you need to live to be my years. Go.”
The young bull stood, uncertain.
The old bull had been prime since he was a suckling calf. He had gathered the herd before thunderstorms, faced hungry bears, led them from snowy drifts to patches of ground with enough green shoots to feed upon in winter. Many cows had borne the old bull spawn.
But those were seasons past.
Another howl, and an answer.
Yes, THEY were coming, fast like clouds racing across the sky. The prey-fear shivered through the young bull’s backbone.
“We must go NOW! Through that gully below those pine saplings. The herd is over the ridge.” The young bull snorted nervously. “It’s not far!”
The old bull lifted his thick head.
“It is too far for me. You have strong legs. Use them.”
“You stubborn old . . .”
“Remember the order of things,” said the old bull. “The grass will grow green again, in a short time.”
“I know the changing of the seasons.”
“Then know there will come a time when you will be me, and will understand the order,” the old bull paused, catching his breath. “The order of things.”
The young bull paused, lowering his head. Then he looked the old bull in the eye.
“The order of things? What would a calf like me know of the ‘order of things’?”
A stiff breeze rippled through the old bull’s frayed mane, as frosty breath steamed from his nostrils.
“More than you might think,” said the old bull.
The old bull turned away, with love, not anger. Yes, he will make a good prime.
And the young bull stalked a few paces, then picked up his stride into a trot and then a gallop. Running to the herd and not looking back.
***
Michael A. Clark lives in Charlotte, N.C., U.S., and works in industrial automation while spending as much time as he can outdoors. His work has been published in Galaxy’s Edge, Mystery Weekly Magazine, and Black Hare Press. Clark’s work also appears in History Through Fiction, Twenty Two Twenty Eight and Dark Matter Magazine, Issue 016. His novella Are One was published by Water Dragon Publishing, and his short story “Leader of the Pack” appears in Altitude Press’ anthology To the Dogs. “Vampires, LLC” can be found at Vampires, LLC | Daikaijuzine, “The Hole in One Ball Field’s Concession Stand” appears in 4 Star Stories, Issue 31, “Cracking Fleas” appears in Smoking Pen Press’ A Twist On Time, “Merle and Me” is in Harvey Duckman Presents On a Different Tuesday, “Awaiting Fallen Blossoms” was just published by Flash Fiction Magazine and “Ghost Dog” appears in Hawthorn & Ash #114 – Iron Faerie Publishing.