A Prey Among Predators
Out on the Ice...
The Brave skate around the full ice as their warm-up. Gliding behind the group, Nolan peers beyond the approaching glass, which displays the view to the locker room doors.
No one in sight.
He turns and gazes up at the empty benches.
No Carter in sight.
He then rounds the corner to the straightaway, which shows the front of the ice rink’s room.
Just a passing custodian.
TWEET!
Nolan brakes and whirls around. His teammates drift to their coach, who stands on the center of the ice. He follows them and settles down in his usual spot on the center face-off circle.
Nolan spreads his bent legs out along with his team for the first stretch. He gazes out toward the right ahead of him. The view of the locker room doors stare back at him. He keeps his eyes on them as he extends his legs out behind him.
Anxious anticipation clings onto him for Carter to arrive. Just remembering the ominous aura Clayton radiated when he approached him in the locker room makes him hold onto the hope more.
He stretches his right leg out. Fear surrounds him, fear that he is alone among his predatory teammates. Carter always sticks by his side, speaking for him and indirectly guarding him. He was loyal to him.
He switches legs.
Carter’s odd absence jars on Nolan. Uneasiness and trepidation courses through him. These emotions fog his mind with feeling lost and worried. The thought of Carter appearing on the ice and grinning down at him with his small, brown ears sticking out screams through his mind.
His heart aches for his friend. Just to have relief from the agitating sensations.
Everyone around Nolan then stands up and disappears across the ice. Nolan gazes around in confusion before following his team and gliding down the ice toward his usual station.
His eyes stay on the approaching net—the net Carter would normally occupy. He presses his lips, attempting to thwart the worries to set his mind straight for practice. Yet his mind keeps swimming and swirling, until a sharp tug on his jersey’s sleeve snaps his out of his thoughts and whirls him around.
Shock flies through Nolan at the unexpected movement. “AH-AH-AHHHH!!!”
His arm flails at the grip, tearing away from it. He then darts to the bench and scrambles up to the coach’s platform on his hands and knees. He crawls up against the boards behind the platform and rolls himself up into a ball. His ears are pinned behind his back; his tail is the equivalent of a teased cotton ball; he is still; his eyes are wide ahead.
He spots Clayton gliding up to him with a stoic look.
Nolan dips his head, feeling himself breathing hard and his heart slamming against his chest.
“You gotta stop being scared of me, buns.” Clayton halts in front of the boards and leans against them, gazing up at him. “I just want to know where the bear is.”
Nolan glances at him. “I don’t know…”
Clayton draws in a deep breath. “Well, he’s not here, that’s for sure.” He knocks his gloved hands against boards. “If he doesn’t show up during practice, track him down afterward.” He halts his fist. “We need him for this series.”
Pat peeks at him and whispers, “I don’t know how to track…”
“Hmmm, okay then…”
Clayton spins around to face the ice. In the line at the far left corner is Brett. He juts his chin toward him and howls.
Brett faces him and throws back at him a quick howl. He then separates himself from the line and rushes up across the ice.
He brakes next to the coach. “What’s up?”
Clayton gazes at him with lowered eyebrows. “I want you” —he holds his gloved hand to him— “and buns here” —he reverts his hand to Nolan— “to track that bear if he doesn’t show up during practice.” He drops his hand.
Brett nods. “You got it, Kelly.” He gazes up at Nolan. “Sounds good?”
Nolan eyes him and replies in his same tone, “I don’t know how to track.”
“No worries, you’ll just be following me.” He turns back to the coach. “Simple.” He then pats his shoulder and skates off.
Clayton turns away from watching his friend and looks up at Nolan. “Get back on the ice.” He then pushes himself back on the ice, following the same direction as Brett.
Nolan gazes at the organized ice. He takes in a shaky inhale of the sharp, strong air. His ears rise; his tail relaxes. Then with a long exhale, he crawls down the coach’s platform onto his skates’ blades, approaches the opening in the boards, and steps back onto the ice before gliding to his station.
