WaterWall
Thus were the God of Light and The God of Dark born as one from the fires of creation.  And with a great and terrible purpose, the Gods moved into the cool, black emptiness between balls of swirling flame spit out at their birth.  Be ye warned, that as time passed and the Gods saw fit to create our ancestors, our ancestors perceived of the God of Light and the God of Dark in the only ways they possessed; thus, giving the Gods physical form and action that fulfilled our ancestors’ desire to understand.  And in this, our ancestors perceived of the Gods with little understanding and called the God of Light 'Good', and the God of Dark 'Evil'.  As time passed, the hunger to understand grew and the ability to do so failed.  Soon our ancestors denied what is and worshiped that which they called God and shunned that which they called Devil.
(from the writings of elu)

There is controlled chaos in the somber twilight. The sounds of shouting and screams echo across the valley as the sun slowly sets in the sky: sending shadows down the steep hillside to envelope tiny figures far below me.
Its’ heart is pounding with fear.
I follow as It turns to a stand of trees on Its’ left and sprints toward the trees' protective gloom. The air whips Its’ golden hair behind It and moonglow creates pockets of shadow and swirling lanes of milky texture on Its’ smooth skin.
Stars look down between dividing clouds and illuminate the strange landscape below as Its’ feet skim over mossy ground and carry It between gnarled tree trunks.  The trees' spreading limbs dim the platinum light: protecting It from other searching eyes as It burrows deeper into the forest.
Its’ head turns and Its' eyes search the silent darkness.  Only the sounds of Its’ running feet, padding against the soft ground, can be heard.
It slows to a walk and winds Its’ way through the forest until It comes to a cave.  Its’ breathing is quick and ragged.
A stream flows next to the cave: bubbling over rounded stones.  It drops to the muddy ground and watches shimmering spots of light on water racing into the unknown.  The only sounds are those made by the rushing creek for I move with a silent grace and stealth It can never match.
It moves away from the torrent and pushes the waterwall aside to enter the cave.
I pull myself slowly forward.  My claws dig easily into the soft earth as my quivering belly slides over the ground.  Off to my left, They writhe in the darkness of the night: clumsily climbing the hill.  The smell of blood is strong and moisture forms beneath my tongue.
A chilly breeze rustles the leaves around me.  I turn and watch It move before me: protected by the waterwall.  I smell fear oozing from Its’ bloated body: so full of salt and warmth.  Soon to change when They reach inside.
I watch the moon’s glimmer creep through the waterwall and highlight floating convexities and concavities of Its’ body as It scurries about the cave.  Its' face contorts and Its' hands flutter uselessly in Its' golden hair.
I move toward It until my nose touches the waterwall: cold, hard, ungiving, frustrating.  I can’t reach It.  Not yet.  But soon.  Soon, They will be here and the waterwall will shatter as it always does.
I wait.
Dark clouds hang in the sky overhead and the sounds of rumbling thunder echo in the distance.   Twisted tree trunks stand like ghostly sentinels against the gloomy sky: stretching their arms upward as though pleading for relief from the electric display above.  The stark image in front of me shifts as lightning crosses the sky: dancing shadows lurching to the left and then to the right.
They approach Its’ cave.
They move like newborns: jerking, wobbling, stumbling.  Clumsy fools.
They pound the sides of the cave with crumbling fists.  They never get in this way.  The brick and mortar are too hard.  They will realize this soon and move to the waterwall.
I pant while moisture drips from my fangs and my tongue lolls in the cool breeze.  My emaciated chest expands and contracts causing my ribs to move but little air.  I sense other members of my pack slithering into place behind me.  My Pack-Brothers have sensed my excitement and want to share the prize.  I twitch my tail to show my approval.  My brothers respect the rules of the pack. 
They shatter the waterwall and Its’ screams pierce the night.
I wait until They draw the life from It as They once took life from Me. Then I will lead the pack and tear the dead ones into small pieces.  The pieces will be left to squirm and reunite no more.  Then It will quiet our hunger.
Soon we will feed.
 
Author’s Notes
The idea behind the story is to take the original concept of zombies and bring it into our current world of technology.  A genetically altered retrovirus is spreading across the planet that changes all animal life to Zombies at their death, not just humans.  The virus also implants a certain level of genetic language and knowledge never before possessed by wolves.
Wolves are confused as they try to combine their natural instincts and the newly implanted language and knowledge.  They are learning to compete in a world where the population is expanding exponentially as the virus spreads and death is eradicated.  Wolves cannot speak aloud to each other yet.  Language is only used by the wolves for thinking.
If you're curious about the waterwall, it’s a glass door.  The wolves don’t understand it yet and haven’t connected it with the word ‘glass’.
“They” is used for human zombies.
“It” is used for living humans.
The narrating zombie wolf thinks in first person.
Word count: 986