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Description
Chapter 3: Revolutions

A large yellow and white wolf crawled out of her fallen tree home. Since the great plant’s collapse, it had served as a suitable and comfortable den for old Garou. The wolf’s long fur blew as the wind whipped at her. Every gust of wind seemed stronger, colder, as Winter approached. She had waited long for the snow’s arrival and it did her heart well to see it now.
Garou walked out of the large open hole in the tree’s side and called out for a younger wolf to follow. The little wolf was a light blue-grey, and she bore white markings almost identical to her mother’s. Garou’s large stature and long fur made her seem three times Falyn’s size.
Young Falyn was a year old now, and that, with the combined timing of Winter, finally marked the authorization for Garou to go through with her plans. She had told her daughter that when the snows of her yearling age came, she would take her on a journey. For now, her daughter was still ignorant of most of her mother’s plans, but Garou explained she would know about them sooner or later. Having no reason to doubt her mother, Falyn did not question her mother’s set journey and easily went along. She, too, had awaited the trip she was destined to go on, interested to see the real point and destination of her fated expedition.
“Where are we going, Mother?” Falyn asked, not really caring but curious anyway.
“To the lower mountain valley. We have to find someone, someone dangerous.”
“Will we meet the others there?”
“Yes, and along the way. Come, the snow falls. It is time to go,” Garou said, leading the way through the thick forest.
Garou’s home, in the colder regions of the mountains, was more isolated than that of other packs. Though many wolves lived high in the mountains, few lived as high as she did, and she liked it that way. She wanted to stay as far away from humans and their homes as possible; heading to lands closer to human towns brought both a feeling of excitement and dread into her. Humans were not like other animals, they were cruel, ruthless, evil. But what burned in Garou’s heart more than her instinctive hatred of humans was her hatred of dogs.
It was an old prejudice between wolves and dogs, that they resented one another. Dogs had ridiculous myths about wolves and wolves held a rigorous grudge against dogs. Dogs were pets, human slaves—brain-washed and spoiled. Many a wolf loathed dogs, usually for good reason. Despite being related to wolves, dogs killed their own biological cousins like prey and some even took pride in the fact—hunting dogs, they were called. Of course, there were the few wolves that held no hatred against dogs (usually they were the ones who hadn’t had a loved one taken from them), and there were dogs that shared no bitterness towards wolf. But that didn’t matter—not to Garou, not to most wolves. And now there was the rumor spreading around that a dog had actually been admitted into the ranks of a wolf pack.
There was a time when lost or abandoned dogs, left to die in the wilderness, were taken in by some merciful pack. Lies. In Garou’s mind, wolves should not take pity on dogs. Dogs were deceitful tricksters. They had abandoned their natural alliance with wolves once they decided to kill what was practically their kind. But what bothered old Garou most of all, even more than the fact that a dog was even alive in wolf territory, was the blasphemous rumor that the dog had not only become a member of the pack, but had had pups—half-breeds, mixing the proud blood of wolves with the poisonous lineage of a dog.
If these rumors were true, then the dog had been able to mingle and coincide with wolves for months, if not years by now—which meant no one else was fixing the problem. She was so thankful to the young white wolf that had told her in the first place. He came from the pack that had adopted the dog, a husky, apparently, and seemed to be the only sensible one there. She often wondered what became of him, and hoped to meet him when she arrived in the lower mountains. Obviously, the young wolf would be killed if he went against his Alpha’s wishes and killed the dog himself, so he could only helplessly watch the dog thrive and report to the wolves he thought would help. With this in mind, Garou found it necessary to deal with the dog herself. Only the raising of her daughter, Falyn, delayed her from leaving sooner. But now Falyn was mature enough to make the journey and soon Garou would have enough followers to exile the dog from wolf grounds, and take on any wolves that tried to stop her. Maybe she could even free the young white wolf from his dog-sympathizing pack.
She thrust her hopes to the very front of her mind and urged herself to keep going forward. Soon her hopes would become a reality and she could rightfully restore balance to the wolf world. Her growing inner pride forced her to walk faster and seeing the excitement built up in her mother, Falyn quickly followed.

Creeba rested on her side, warmed by the thick pine needles of the tree and full from the kill. Narka, Narla and Bly were out with Serab and Fairrin, showing them the territory they were now to call home. Her lazy eyes opened as the faint, familiar sound of paws walking through snow crept near her. She lifted her head just enough to see Kyeph coming towards the sleeping quarters, his own stomach full. The last of the blood was licked off his lips and he laid down behind her, his back against hers.
He yawned sleepily, “Good hunt, huh?” He said.
“Very. I could live on this for weeks.”
The brown-black wolf took a moment to let his bright yellow eyes skim the flat, leaf-covered ground around him. The snow that rested on the sleeping quarters had been dug away and replaced with old dirt and leaves, to keep it warm. Usually, after a meal, the quarters would be occupied by seven wolves instead of two, eight after Atka was included. Like the Alphas and old Bly, Kyeph and Creeba were glad to have the additional and needed company of Serab and her pup. Their pack’s numbers had greatly diminished over the years.
The parents of the pack’s younger members were all but gone. Bly, Siria’s father, was the only one that remained. Siria’s mother, Baya, had died of old age a few years ago. Kirz’s parents—Clau and Karo—had left their son to return to their old pack. Karo stayed six months after Kirz’s birth, but left after her son voluntarily chose to stay with Narla’s clan. Kyeph’s parents, Zephyr and Auroral, were lone wolves who had left their son with Narla’s pack for unknown reasons. They were never seen and Kyeph can barely remember them. What he did know, though, that was his parents didn’t abandon him out of selfishness—he remembered they loved him and sometimes he really wished he knew what became of them. The tragedy of Creeba’s parents was probably the worst. Soon after their daughter was born, Baruk and Frey were trapped and killed by hunters. Besides Creeba’s mother, Frey was also Narla’s biological sister.
Though the stories of their parents were generally sad, the young wolves of Narla’s pack lived with the fact. They grew up as siblings until maturity and life set some of them apart. Kirz, desiring Siria, who had already given her heart to Atka, had driven himself to madness and in a cruel act of insanity, he was driven from the pack and killed moments afterwards. After Kirz’s death, Siria and Atka left the pack to make a life for themselves and their pups. Though the pack was happy for them, the loss of the three members shrank Narla’s pack to a mere five.
Kyeph and Creeba were most upset at losing the last sister and new brother they had. However, the departure of their beloved packmates gave them a chance to really focus on themselves. Though they still had kind hearts and modest temperaments, they learned to grow up a little. They were not a quiet or meek, they hunted more skillfully and their confidence had risen since their rise in status from low-ranking Omega to second-level Beta. The more they thought about it, the less they viewed themselves as back-up or lesser individuals—they were wolves, with the birth right to be proud and confident.
Kyeph looked at the bi-colored wolfess behind him. She was slightly smaller than most wolves, especially for her age. Her size and innocent mind-set made her sometimes pup-like, but her long legs and distinctly shaped, beautiful muzzle noted her maturity. Her black ears were pressed against her white head, as she smiled and rested. During her time as an Omega, her ears were so often pressed against her that Kyeph found it funny and weird to see them standing up. He realized he enjoyed lying beside her, enjoying her company without the use of words. Moments like now made him wonder how Atka had done it, successfully married and fathered a likely fine litter of pups. How could he make that future his own, and share it with the wolf he realized he loved?
More often than not, he shoved such ideas aside. The very idea of asking Creeba to marry him seemed rushed and the pressure from just thinking about it was almost more than he could bare. To further his doubts, he wondered if he would even be able to handle the pressure and responsibility of pups. Often, he felt he was barely over being a pup himself, even though he was slightly over two years old now. He wasn’t sure when or if it would happen, but until he felt completely confident in himself and the life he could have with Creeba, he decided to contain his feelings and remain her dearest friend.
He faded into a deep sleep as the snow continued to fall, his slow, tired breathing eventually matching hers.

Atka felt his mate shiver, and tried to huddle closer to her. Just a few days after Winter’s arrival, the snow had picked up. Tonight was miserable, as a sudden blizzard had come, forcing Atka and his family into their den for the night. The yearling pups often growled in annoyance as they struggled to keep out of each others way. Often, Atka had to shush them, while poor, tired Siria tried to ignore the cold and sleep.
“Sitka, stop kicking me!” Baya barked, kicking her brother’s hind leg in return.
“Ow! That’s my side!” Mara, the wolf, yipped back.
The husky Mara had rejected her brother’s offer to let her sleep in the den and she was now somewhere in the cold. Atka was more than sure she was safe, but even so he feared for her.
“Baya, Mara! Hush!” Atka snapped, whispering as loud as he could to keep his voice low but stern. “Your mother might be sick and you’re playing around like pups! Grow up!”
“Well, tell Sitka to move over!” Baya complained.
The husky’s tail twitched with aggravation. The den was big, but it wasn’t meant for five adult-sized canines. If he didn’t come up with a solution fast, he’d hear nothing but bickering all night, and that was a stress he didn’t feel like handling.
“Pups,” Atka addressed, his voice much calmer. “Keep your mother warm,” he said, standing as tall as he could without hitting the den ceiling.
“Where are you going?” Baya asked, taking her father’s place beside her shivering mother.
“Outside, to give the den more room. You’ll all be more comfortable then,” he said, slinking through the den’s tunnel.
“Be where will you go? It’s freezing out there,” Sitka insisted.
“I’ll be fine,” the husky-wolf said and left the den.
As soon as he came out of the warm burrow his face was whipped and covered with the blistering snow outside. He was almost instantly blinded and he could barely see a foot before him. The scent of his sister had by now been long erased, and slowly he dragged himself through the snow. He headed for the woods but a few feet away, knowing the trees would help shelter him from the intense wind and snow fall. Under the protection of the woods, he shook himself of the excess snow and started to look for a shelter of some kind.
Eventually, finding no den large enough or empty, Atka retreated to the most wind-resistant pine tree he could find and curled into a ball underneath its branches. Doing so reminded him of the sleeping area in Narla’s territory. Recent memories of the pack be belonged to came back to him and filled him with an old sense of longing. He sometimes imagined he was a year-old puppy again, found and loved by the wolves. He remembered life as a wolf, despite its flaws and hardships; he enjoyed being a member of the pack. He liked Narla’s guidance and the fact that Siria was his best friend.
He wouldn’t trade his children and wife for the world, but sometimes he wondered if going off and raising a family was the happily ever after he’d been searching for. Since his parting from Narla’s clan, he had felt something was missing, like something had been taken from him. Lying in the snow, he did what he often did with his thoughts and bottled them away, feeling they were too pointless to say aloud anyway. Why was he so upset? But the bigger question he pondered over was really what was he missing?
As he tried not to dwell on the ideas, he buried his black nose under his tail and tried to get some sleep.
Not five minutes went by that a shadow started to loom from the rapidly descending snow.
“Aren’t you cold?” Atka said, looking up at the brown and cream husky-mutt. She looked back down at him with her good eye.
“I was going to ask you to same thing,” she said, seemingly unfazed by the winds that struck her. “Shouldn’t you be back with your family?”
“They’re your family, too, and the den was too full.”
“Hmph, I guess they are my family.”
She sat in front of him, still taking on the harsh winds.
“Of course they’re your family,” Atka said, knowing his sister sometimes doubted her place in the pack.
“Only by you, brother,” Mara said, lying in the snow, her body uncurled as if the snow didn’t bother her.
However, what the weather was like always seemed to be the least of Mara’s problems. Atka knew she was still not at ease with living in the pack. Despite the reassurance he had tried to give her, she was still distant. She was especially anxious around Siria, the mother whose son she had attacked; even though, with time, Siria also came to look at and love the husky-retriever like family. But it wasn’t enough. A part of Mara would always long for a different life—whether it was the one she knew, the dog life, or the savage life she had taken up, she did not know. What she did know was that try as she might, being part of Atka’s pack was not where she belonged.
At this point, Atka had considered giving up—Mara seemed like she was never going to change her mind about being an outcast. But it wasn’t in his nature to give up. Even if Mara didn’t think pack life was for her, he would do all he could to make her comfortable while she was here. He suddenly appreciated the time he had now, sitting along with his sister like they did when they were pups—when they had no one else to turn to but each other.
The image of them now was a total contrast to the playful pups they were. They were once smaller, their fur fluffier, their only worries were taken care of by their mother or their humans. Over the years, and his time with Narla and her pack, Atka’s fur has grown scruffy and bristled, turning into the messy, but attractive, coat of a hard-working wolf. His wolf heritage had kicked in as he’d gotten older and his puppy husky legs lengthened into wolf ones—though Siria’s were still longer. The only real reminisce of his dog side were his bright blue eyes.
Mara became a feral creature as well. Her fur was not only scruffy, but mangled in some places were permanent scars rested. Her tail was still that of a husky’s, naturally curled, and she did not attempt to curl it during her time with the pack. Having taken pity on dogs long before her love for Atka grew, Siria had accepted Mara’s tail with no problems, and had taught her pups to do the same.
Mara’s floppy dog ears, from her Golden Retriever father, Yip, remained, but one had a bite mark in it from a former battle. Her most pronounced injury was that over her eye—the one that used to be blue, now it was misty and faded. Atka was glad to know her useless eye didn’t seem to bother her, but he felt sorry every time he had to look at it. The innocent pup she had once been had obviously died off long ago, and a struggling wild animal had taken her place.
Atka believed Mara’s distance from the pack was not only because she was a dog or because she was not used to wolves—but because she didn’t want to be engulfed in the wolf life any further. Since her supposed death, Mara had lived the life typical to a lone wolf, but another part of her was able to survive against all odds. Mara didn’t want to be a wolf anymore, a part of her, no matter how much it seemed to have vanished, longed to be a dog again.
“Mara,” Atka said, wanting to use this time to his advantage.
The brown and cream husky mix opened her eyes, revealing her unusual vision. She wasn’t the heavy sleeper she used to be.
“Do you…ever think about home? And Mom?”
She blinked, though nothing else about her suggested surprise. Her ears twitched back momentarily as she spoke.
“Almost every day,” she said.
“She misses us, you know.”
“I know.”
Mara thought back to the night she heard her pack sing—it was a few nights after she had been admitted into the pack. Her brother and his family had sung a beautiful song, singing with voices gifted to wolves, and apparently one special dog. Mara had even joined in with her own barks, for the first time in a long time feeling the happiest she had in awhile. That night, their calls were answered by Atka and Siria’s old pack, and unexpectedly by their mother, Dawnya.
Dawnya had returned to the Alaskan frontier with the human father of the family, in search of her once left behind pups. Since they had been abandoned by their humans and lived their lives in the wild, Dawnya’s children had found it unnecessary to return to her. But now, they were beginning to have doubts and sometimes dreamed about returning to the mother that had finally returned to them.
Mara let out a dog’s excuse for a laugh, snorting quietly.
“What’s so funny?” Atka said.
“What would the father of the family think? About seeing us, after all this time?”
Atka left out a quiet laugh of his own.
“I don’t know. Mother would probably be horrified,” Atka said, glad he was able to laugh after he realized how sad he had made himself by thinking back to the days of dogs.
He turned his head to the side, resting his head on her upper foreleg and noticed the snow was still falling. His fur was barely touched by the icy powder, but Mara’s coat was turning from brown to white.
“Mara, please come under the cover of the tree. I can’t watch you freeze to death.”
“I’m fine.”
He growled an irritated growl as he stood up. He stepped out of the dirt patch under the tree and walked through the heavy snow. Quickly he trotted to Mara’s side and nudged her.
“I’m not leaving you alone until you go,” Atka said stubbornly, half joking.
“You can’t baby me forever. I’m not that much younger than you.”
“I’m not trying to baby you. I’m sure you could easily beat me in a fight. I’m just trying to keep you from getting sick,” he nudged her again, harder this time. “Besides, you of all dogs, know I’m stubborn.”
“Hmph,” she said, at last standing up. She shook the snow off her fur, purposely covering Atka in the cold stuff. “Pup.”
“Thank you,” Atka said, content his sister was in a suitable sleeping spot.
He slunk beside her and licked in between her ears. To his moderate surprise, she didn’t growl at him or back-talk him. Within minutes, she had drifted off to sleep, at last deep enough not to be awakened by minor noises.
Atka looked at the falling snow and sighed before he went to sleep. It was definitely going to be a long Winter.
By morning’s light, the snow had apparently stopped falling. Despite the heavy precipitation, a good half inch of the snow had melted away.
Siria awakened long before her pups and noticed her mate was nowhere in sight. As she left the den, she blinked a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to the change in lighting. Once her eyes were used to the light, she noticed the minor indent of a trail of paw prints leading to the woods.
She followed the trail once her stomach growled—reminding her it had been awhile since her last large meal.
Siria followed Atka’s prints until she came to the pine tree in which they stopped. She stood quietly a good yard or two from the tree, noticing her mate and pack-sister were still asleep. Not wanting to wake them, Siria quietly crept back to the den. She could hold off on a meal for a few hours.
Until then, she decided to wake up her lazy pups and make them practice their own stalking and hunting skills. Today, she decided she would bring her pups to the hunt.

Description
Chapter 3: Revolutions

A large yellow and white wolf crawled out of her fallen tree home. Since the great plant’s collapse, it had served as a suitable and comfortable den for old Garou. The wolf’s long fur blew as the wind whipped at her. Every gust of wind seemed stronger, colder, as Winter approached. She had waited long for the snow’s arrival and it did her heart well to see it now.
Garou walked out of the large open hole in the tree’s side and called out for a younger wolf to follow. The little wolf was a light blue-grey, and she bore white markings almost identical to her mother’s. Garou’s large stature and long fur made her seem three times Falyn’s size.
Young Falyn was a year old now, and that, with the combined timing of Winter, finally marked the authorization for Garou to go through with her plans. She had told her daughter that when the snows of her yearling age came, she would take her on a journey. For now, her daughter was still ignorant of most of her mother’s plans, but Garou explained she would know about them sooner or later. Having no reason to doubt her mother, Falyn did not question her mother’s set journey and easily went along. She, too, had awaited the trip she was destined to go on, interested to see the real point and destination of her fated expedition.
“Where are we going, Mother?” Falyn asked, not really caring but curious anyway.
“To the lower mountain valley. We have to find someone, someone dangerous.”
“Will we meet the others there?”
“Yes, and along the way. Come, the snow falls. It is time to go,” Garou said, leading the way through the thick forest.
Garou’s home, in the colder regions of the mountains, was more isolated than that of other packs. Though many wolves lived high in the mountains, few lived as high as she did, and she liked it that way. She wanted to stay as far away from humans and their homes as possible; heading to lands closer to human towns brought both a feeling of excitement and dread into her. Humans were not like other animals, they were cruel, ruthless, evil. But what burned in Garou’s heart more than her instinctive hatred of humans was her hatred of dogs.
It was an old prejudice between wolves and dogs, that they resented one another. Dogs had ridiculous myths about wolves and wolves held a rigorous grudge against dogs. Dogs were pets, human slaves—brain-washed and spoiled. Many a wolf loathed dogs, usually for good reason. Despite being related to wolves, dogs killed their own biological cousins like prey and some even took pride in the fact—hunting dogs, they were called. Of course, there were the few wolves that held no hatred against dogs (usually they were the ones who hadn’t had a loved one taken from them), and there were dogs that shared no bitterness towards wolf. But that didn’t matter—not to Garou, not to most wolves. And now there was the rumor spreading around that a dog had actually been admitted into the ranks of a wolf pack.
There was a time when lost or abandoned dogs, left to die in the wilderness, were taken in by some merciful pack. Lies. In Garou’s mind, wolves should not take pity on dogs. Dogs were deceitful tricksters. They had abandoned their natural alliance with wolves once they decided to kill what was practically their kind. But what bothered old Garou most of all, even more than the fact that a dog was even alive in wolf territory, was the blasphemous rumor that the dog had not only become a member of the pack, but had had pups—half-breeds, mixing the proud blood of wolves with the poisonous lineage of a dog.
If these rumors were true, then the dog had been able to mingle and coincide with wolves for months, if not years by now—which meant no one else was fixing the problem. She was so thankful to the young white wolf that had told her in the first place. He came from the pack that had adopted the dog, a husky, apparently, and seemed to be the only sensible one there. She often wondered what became of him, and hoped to meet him when she arrived in the lower mountains. Obviously, the young wolf would be killed if he went against his Alpha’s wishes and killed the dog himself, so he could only helplessly watch the dog thrive and report to the wolves he thought would help. With this in mind, Garou found it necessary to deal with the dog herself. Only the raising of her daughter, Falyn, delayed her from leaving sooner. But now Falyn was mature enough to make the journey and soon Garou would have enough followers to exile the dog from wolf grounds, and take on any wolves that tried to stop her. Maybe she could even free the young white wolf from his dog-sympathizing pack.
She thrust her hopes to the very front of her mind and urged herself to keep going forward. Soon her hopes would become a reality and she could rightfully restore balance to the wolf world. Her growing inner pride forced her to walk faster and seeing the excitement built up in her mother, Falyn quickly followed.

Creeba rested on her side, warmed by the thick pine needles of the tree and full from the kill. Narka, Narla and Bly were out with Serab and Fairrin, showing them the territory they were now to call home. Her lazy eyes opened as the faint, familiar sound of paws walking through snow crept near her. She lifted her head just enough to see Kyeph coming towards the sleeping quarters, his own stomach full. The last of the blood was licked off his lips and he laid down behind her, his back against hers.
He yawned sleepily, “Good hunt, huh?” He said.
“Very. I could live on this for weeks.”
The brown-black wolf took a moment to let his bright yellow eyes skim the flat, leaf-covered ground around him. The snow that rested on the sleeping quarters had been dug away and replaced with old dirt and leaves, to keep it warm. Usually, after a meal, the quarters would be occupied by seven wolves instead of two, eight after Atka was included. Like the Alphas and old Bly, Kyeph and Creeba were glad to have the additional and needed company of Serab and her pup. Their pack’s numbers had greatly diminished over the years.
The parents of the pack’s younger members were all but gone. Bly, Siria’s father, was the only one that remained. Siria’s mother, Baya, had died of old age a few years ago. Kirz’s parents—Clau and Karo—had left their son to return to their old pack. Karo stayed six months after Kirz’s birth, but left after her son voluntarily chose to stay with Narla’s clan. Kyeph’s parents, Zephyr and Auroral, were lone wolves who had left their son with Narla’s pack for unknown reasons. They were never seen and Kyeph can barely remember them. What he did know, though, that was his parents didn’t abandon him out of selfishness—he remembered they loved him and sometimes he really wished he knew what became of them. The tragedy of Creeba’s parents was probably the worst. Soon after their daughter was born, Baruk and Frey were trapped and killed by hunters. Besides Creeba’s mother, Frey was also Narla’s biological sister.
Though the stories of their parents were generally sad, the young wolves of Narla’s pack lived with the fact. They grew up as siblings until maturity and life set some of them apart. Kirz, desiring Siria, who had already given her heart to Atka, had driven himself to madness and in a cruel act of insanity, he was driven from the pack and killed moments afterwards. After Kirz’s death, Siria and Atka left the pack to make a life for themselves and their pups. Though the pack was happy for them, the loss of the three members shrank Narla’s pack to a mere five.
Kyeph and Creeba were most upset at losing the last sister and new brother they had. However, the departure of their beloved packmates gave them a chance to really focus on themselves. Though they still had kind hearts and modest temperaments, they learned to grow up a little. They were not a quiet or meek, they hunted more skillfully and their confidence had risen since their rise in status from low-ranking Omega to second-level Beta. The more they thought about it, the less they viewed themselves as back-up or lesser individuals—they were wolves, with the birth right to be proud and confident.
Kyeph looked at the bi-colored wolfess behind him. She was slightly smaller than most wolves, especially for her age. Her size and innocent mind-set made her sometimes pup-like, but her long legs and distinctly shaped, beautiful muzzle noted her maturity. Her black ears were pressed against her white head, as she smiled and rested. During her time as an Omega, her ears were so often pressed against her that Kyeph found it funny and weird to see them standing up. He realized he enjoyed lying beside her, enjoying her company without the use of words. Moments like now made him wonder how Atka had done it, successfully married and fathered a likely fine litter of pups. How could he make that future his own, and share it with the wolf he realized he loved?
More often than not, he shoved such ideas aside. The very idea of asking Creeba to marry him seemed rushed and the pressure from just thinking about it was almost more than he could bare. To further his doubts, he wondered if he would even be able to handle the pressure and responsibility of pups. Often, he felt he was barely over being a pup himself, even though he was slightly over two years old now. He wasn’t sure when or if it would happen, but until he felt completely confident in himself and the life he could have with Creeba, he decided to contain his feelings and remain her dearest friend.
He faded into a deep sleep as the snow continued to fall, his slow, tired breathing eventually matching hers.

Atka felt his mate shiver, and tried to huddle closer to her. Just a few days after Winter’s arrival, the snow had picked up. Tonight was miserable, as a sudden blizzard had come, forcing Atka and his family into their den for the night. The yearling pups often growled in annoyance as they struggled to keep out of each others way. Often, Atka had to shush them, while poor, tired Siria tried to ignore the cold and sleep.
“Sitka, stop kicking me!” Baya barked, kicking her brother’s hind leg in return.
“Ow! That’s my side!” Mara, the wolf, yipped back.
The husky Mara had rejected her brother’s offer to let her sleep in the den and she was now somewhere in the cold. Atka was more than sure she was safe, but even so he feared for her.
“Baya, Mara! Hush!” Atka snapped, whispering as loud as he could to keep his voice low but stern. “Your mother might be sick and you’re playing around like pups! Grow up!”
“Well, tell Sitka to move over!” Baya complained.
The husky’s tail twitched with aggravation. The den was big, but it wasn’t meant for five adult-sized canines. If he didn’t come up with a solution fast, he’d hear nothing but bickering all night, and that was a stress he didn’t feel like handling.
“Pups,” Atka addressed, his voice much calmer. “Keep your mother warm,” he said, standing as tall as he could without hitting the den ceiling.
“Where are you going?” Baya asked, taking her father’s place beside her shivering mother.
“Outside, to give the den more room. You’ll all be more comfortable then,” he said, slinking through the den’s tunnel.
“Be where will you go? It’s freezing out there,” Sitka insisted.
“I’ll be fine,” the husky-wolf said and left the den.
As soon as he came out of the warm burrow his face was whipped and covered with the blistering snow outside. He was almost instantly blinded and he could barely see a foot before him. The scent of his sister had by now been long erased, and slowly he dragged himself through the snow. He headed for the woods but a few feet away, knowing the trees would help shelter him from the intense wind and snow fall. Under the protection of the woods, he shook himself of the excess snow and started to look for a shelter of some kind.
Eventually, finding no den large enough or empty, Atka retreated to the most wind-resistant pine tree he could find and curled into a ball underneath its branches. Doing so reminded him of the sleeping area in Narla’s territory. Recent memories of the pack be belonged to came back to him and filled him with an old sense of longing. He sometimes imagined he was a year-old puppy again, found and loved by the wolves. He remembered life as a wolf, despite its flaws and hardships; he enjoyed being a member of the pack. He liked Narla’s guidance and the fact that Siria was his best friend.
He wouldn’t trade his children and wife for the world, but sometimes he wondered if going off and raising a family was the happily ever after he’d been searching for. Since his parting from Narla’s clan, he had felt something was missing, like something had been taken from him. Lying in the snow, he did what he often did with his thoughts and bottled them away, feeling they were too pointless to say aloud anyway. Why was he so upset? But the bigger question he pondered over was really what was he missing?
As he tried not to dwell on the ideas, he buried his black nose under his tail and tried to get some sleep.
Not five minutes went by that a shadow started to loom from the rapidly descending snow.
“Aren’t you cold?” Atka said, looking up at the brown and cream husky-mutt. She looked back down at him with her good eye.
“I was going to ask you to same thing,” she said, seemingly unfazed by the winds that struck her. “Shouldn’t you be back with your family?”
“They’re your family, too, and the den was too full.”
“Hmph, I guess they are my family.”
She sat in front of him, still taking on the harsh winds.
“Of course they’re your family,” Atka said, knowing his sister sometimes doubted her place in the pack.
“Only by you, brother,” Mara said, lying in the snow, her body uncurled as if the snow didn’t bother her.
However, what the weather was like always seemed to be the least of Mara’s problems. Atka knew she was still not at ease with living in the pack. Despite the reassurance he had tried to give her, she was still distant. She was especially anxious around Siria, the mother whose son she had attacked; even though, with time, Siria also came to look at and love the husky-retriever like family. But it wasn’t enough. A part of Mara would always long for a different life—whether it was the one she knew, the dog life, or the savage life she had taken up, she did not know. What she did know was that try as she might, being part of Atka’s pack was not where she belonged.
At this point, Atka had considered giving up—Mara seemed like she was never going to change her mind about being an outcast. But it wasn’t in his nature to give up. Even if Mara didn’t think pack life was for her, he would do all he could to make her comfortable while she was here. He suddenly appreciated the time he had now, sitting along with his sister like they did when they were pups—when they had no one else to turn to but each other.
The image of them now was a total contrast to the playful pups they were. They were once smaller, their fur fluffier, their only worries were taken care of by their mother or their humans. Over the years, and his time with Narla and her pack, Atka’s fur has grown scruffy and bristled, turning into the messy, but attractive, coat of a hard-working wolf. His wolf heritage had kicked in as he’d gotten older and his puppy husky legs lengthened into wolf ones—though Siria’s were still longer. The only real reminisce of his dog side were his bright blue eyes.
Mara became a feral creature as well. Her fur was not only scruffy, but mangled in some places were permanent scars rested. Her tail was still that of a husky’s, naturally curled, and she did not attempt to curl it during her time with the pack. Having taken pity on dogs long before her love for Atka grew, Siria had accepted Mara’s tail with no problems, and had taught her pups to do the same.
Mara’s floppy dog ears, from her Golden Retriever father, Yip, remained, but one had a bite mark in it from a former battle. Her most pronounced injury was that over her eye—the one that used to be blue, now it was misty and faded. Atka was glad to know her useless eye didn’t seem to bother her, but he felt sorry every time he had to look at it. The innocent pup she had once been had obviously died off long ago, and a struggling wild animal had taken her place.
Atka believed Mara’s distance from the pack was not only because she was a dog or because she was not used to wolves—but because she didn’t want to be engulfed in the wolf life any further. Since her supposed death, Mara had lived the life typical to a lone wolf, but another part of her was able to survive against all odds. Mara didn’t want to be a wolf anymore, a part of her, no matter how much it seemed to have vanished, longed to be a dog again.
“Mara,” Atka said, wanting to use this time to his advantage.
The brown and cream husky mix opened her eyes, revealing her unusual vision. She wasn’t the heavy sleeper she used to be.
“Do you…ever think about home? And Mom?”
She blinked, though nothing else about her suggested surprise. Her ears twitched back momentarily as she spoke.
“Almost every day,” she said.
“She misses us, you know.”
“I know.”
Mara thought back to the night she heard her pack sing—it was a few nights after she had been admitted into the pack. Her brother and his family had sung a beautiful song, singing with voices gifted to wolves, and apparently one special dog. Mara had even joined in with her own barks, for the first time in a long time feeling the happiest she had in awhile. That night, their calls were answered by Atka and Siria’s old pack, and unexpectedly by their mother, Dawnya.
Dawnya had returned to the Alaskan frontier with the human father of the family, in search of her once left behind pups. Since they had been abandoned by their humans and lived their lives in the wild, Dawnya’s children had found it unnecessary to return to her. But now, they were beginning to have doubts and sometimes dreamed about returning to the mother that had finally returned to them.
Mara let out a dog’s excuse for a laugh, snorting quietly.
“What’s so funny?” Atka said.
“What would the father of the family think? About seeing us, after all this time?”
Atka left out a quiet laugh of his own.
“I don’t know. Mother would probably be horrified,” Atka said, glad he was able to laugh after he realized how sad he had made himself by thinking back to the days of dogs.
He turned his head to the side, resting his head on her upper foreleg and noticed the snow was still falling. His fur was barely touched by the icy powder, but Mara’s coat was turning from brown to white.
“Mara, please come under the cover of the tree. I can’t watch you freeze to death.”
“I’m fine.”
He growled an irritated growl as he stood up. He stepped out of the dirt patch under the tree and walked through the heavy snow. Quickly he trotted to Mara’s side and nudged her.
“I’m not leaving you alone until you go,” Atka said stubbornly, half joking.
“You can’t baby me forever. I’m not that much younger than you.”
“I’m not trying to baby you. I’m sure you could easily beat me in a fight. I’m just trying to keep you from getting sick,” he nudged her again, harder this time. “Besides, you of all dogs, know I’m stubborn.”
“Hmph,” she said, at last standing up. She shook the snow off her fur, purposely covering Atka in the cold stuff. “Pup.”
“Thank you,” Atka said, content his sister was in a suitable sleeping spot.
He slunk beside her and licked in between her ears. To his moderate surprise, she didn’t growl at him or back-talk him. Within minutes, she had drifted off to sleep, at last deep enough not to be awakened by minor noises.
Atka looked at the falling snow and sighed before he went to sleep. It was definitely going to be a long Winter.
By morning’s light, the snow had apparently stopped falling. Despite the heavy precipitation, a good half inch of the snow had melted away.
Siria awakened long before her pups and noticed her mate was nowhere in sight. As she left the den, she blinked a few times to allow her eyes to adjust to the change in lighting. Once her eyes were used to the light, she noticed the minor indent of a trail of paw prints leading to the woods.
She followed the trail once her stomach growled—reminding her it had been awhile since her last large meal.
Siria followed Atka’s prints until she came to the pine tree in which they stopped. She stood quietly a good yard or two from the tree, noticing her mate and pack-sister were still asleep. Not wanting to wake them, Siria quietly crept back to the den. She could hold off on a meal for a few hours.
Until then, she decided to wake up her lazy pups and make them practice their own stalking and hunting skills. Today, she decided she would bring her pups to the hunt.