This is a sequel for The Call of the Wild I wrote for school.
The King of the Wild
Noiselessly, Buck sprang on the rabbit. The rabbit did not struggle because he knew he was doomed. He had been caught by the most dreadful animal in the north. He was only thankful that his family had time to escape before they too, became food. His pain was quickly over when Buck swiftly tore his throat open.
Buck had aged well. For the last seven years, he had lived in the unmerciful frigidness of the north. He had fathered many brave dogs. He had killed many beasts and still had just as much strength and vigor as he’d had when John Thornton was alive.
The Yeehat Indians were now extinct. Buck had made sure that every last one of them had paid for the death of his beloved owner. Every human being that, hoping to get rich, entered his territory never returned to mankind. He diligently protected the gold that his former master had found.
One evening, as Buck was trotting around the perimeter of his territory with his son, he noticed that there was an unusual amount of mosquitoes around. He quickly dismissed the thought when he crossed the path of a lone bird. He instructed his son on the most effectual way to kill a bird and was well pleased when he returned with it.
About seven months later, Buck was worried. He had been tiring very easily. He hoped none of his pack would challenge him to a duel. He also had coughing fits at the most inconvenient times. He just couldn’t shake it! What Buck didn’t know was that inside of his heart and lungs, there where worms everywhere. He had gotten heartworms from the mosquitoes.
He walked along the border of his land and decided to take a break, for he could not walk for more than maybe twenty minutes at a time before feeling exhausted and dizzy. As he lay in the snow, he started feeling faint. His vision was blacking out. Right there, one of Buck’s arteries clotted and he drifted off to sleep for eternity.
Buck’s legacy is a famous one that can never be erased. He was the greatest dog who ever lived, and everyone knew it. Gold hunters who caught a glimpse of him and did not enter his section of the world lived to tell the story of the big wolf who ruled the northern parts of the world. He truly was the king of the wild.