Blood Moon--Chapter 1

On the backdrop of a mountainous land bordered with dense deciduous forests and barren no-mans-land, a mighty species makes their homes; engaged in a constant battle for territory and domination. This is a place where the wild beings run free and the Spirits still have sway over the mind; a place where mysticism still exists.
Round and round it goes: sunrise, sunset; moonrise, moonset. The constant, never ceasing cycle of death and rebirth contains the entire world and every inhabitant of it, of the living world and that of the Spirits. Never once has this chain been broken, the Spirits are bound too closely to the corporeal world to allow it to be destroyed; but it has come dangerously close, too near to falling. An ancient Evil, old as the Spirits themselves, was once set loose into the physical world and would terrorize it still if not for the Chosen.
         Come, gather ‘round. I Weave a tale of innocence, love, revenge, power and family. I Weave the tale of the Chosen, marked by the moon herself under bloody rays, a scorned pup to vanquisher of Evil!

Chapter 1

A pale, glowing circle rose high in the sky from the dusky mountain ranges deep in the distance: the moon. The moon has forever been a symbol of the night and its mysteries, a solitary reminder of the danger of the darkness, and the hope that emerges from the times of hardship. For the Wolves, the moon has signified a key into an unknown world, and they embrace the night and all the glory it contains.
On this cool and calm night, the sole sound was the faint chirping of crickets in the far-off and plentiful fields linking the stretches of forest to the neighboring lands. From somewhere within an evergreen wood came the sound of footfall, heavy against the dew sprinkled ground. A silver streak, lit by the shed rays of moon and star, flew over the earth. It was a lone Wolf, running in a gait desperately rapid, breaths ragged with panting. Jagged were his steps, as though his legs were filled with lead, every pace sending sharp, stabbing tendrils of pain shooting up his joints.
Too many miles he had run, there was no turning back. No home awaited him in the forlorn woodland and nothing but cold silence greeted him. The mere concept of failing his task lurked in his mind, swirled to the forefront of his consciousness and created a heavy hole in his gut. Departing from his pack had intensely increased the sense of loneliness and hopelessness he felt, almost to point of being unable to bear the burden it had put upon him.
At this point, he had already traveled several long miles from the sheltered glades that comprised his home and the knot in the pit of his being clenched tighter. Barely, he could discern the howls and yips of his pack mates from the cries of the wind as they sent words of farewell on the breeze. Their presence was fading from the air and he felt strangely bare without the weight of their nearness to comfort him. He would not – could not – return; the miles he had left to travel were numerous and his task ever so important. But it did not stop him from wishing he had a companion to run beside him in the darkening night, someone to share his fear and give solace to his worry.
His pace slowed to a sluggish walk to allow his sore limbs a reprieve and found that without movement, the cold of the land settled down upon him. He shivered, ruffling his fur to trap the warmth closer to him and soothe his trembling. Moving through the forest, unfamiliar and alien to him, filled his mind with unsettling thoughts. And though try as he may to set the thoughts away, they crawled their way back like wriggling worms, spreading poisonous calamity to his thoughts.
He mumbled under his breath and returned to his former speed, focusing his attention instead on the heavy adornment he wore; the physical burden and reminder of his assignment. Bouncing against his chest with every stride, the crescent shaped charm on a necklace of twine was an uncomfortable weight around his neck, disconcerting even though he had carried it with him for quite some time. Like a venomous snake, coiled and ready to strike, he wished to cast it away for fear it would attack. But he could not; his task was necessary, essential for survival. He had sworn allegiance to his cause, and to turn back now would ruin all that had come before. No option awaited him except to move forward and complete his objective, whatever the cost.

~*~

         Rounding a corner in the trail, scattering dust into the brush, he almost immediately spotted what it was he was searching for. His first landmark to the journey, a small cave set into a swell in the earth; shelter from the rain and a place to rest his head for the night. Arriving there brought him a great wave of relief, as now the night’s travel was over. He now took the opportunity to examine his temporary sleeping space with an interest borne of his natural curiosity, allowing his wide golden eyes to take in the miniscule details. 
As he discovered, the cave didn’t amount to much more than a natural nook in one of the rock walls.  As it was, the overhang meant to provide some shelter from the elements had crumbled away, eroded by years of wind and rain. Contorted trees grew over the top of the moist rocks, and delicate tendrils of moss and spindly vines grew on and around the twisted trees and draped down into the entrance; creating a curtain of sorts over the dank opening to the cave.
He sighed and entered the cave, slinking down on his belly to crawl deeper in. His paws ached from constant overuse and a headache throbbed in his temple. Curling up in a dank, cool corner, he tucked his furry tail around him and closed his eyes, shutting out the world beyond himself. He grumbled, cursing the night bugs’ songs that echoed in the small space, only driving his headache to more painful heights. On any other night, the music of the night would provide him with comfort and soothing sounds as a lullaby, but tonight it only irritated him and prevented him from finding any rest. As he tried to block them out, the night air fell upon his back and sleep found him; but in entering the world of sleep, the memories suppressed during his waking hours began to trickle back in the form of dreams.

~*~

         “SilverTooth, where are you?” A black figure called, moving from the forest to the clearing, his deep voice bellowing out around the den site.
         Excited giggles, erupting from a nearby cluster of bushes, gave away their presence almost immediately and rustling foliage announced that they were quickly moving.
         “Now, SilverTooth! This is not a game!” The figure shouted, pacing back and forth with irritation.
         “Come on, hurry up!” A cheerful, amused female voice floated from somewhere in the brush.
         “Ow! You stepped on my tail!” Another voice cried, and yips of anger and pain exploded from within the tall bushes.
         The dark figure growled and leapt into the fray, nearly pouncing on the two yearling pups that wrestled in the bed of leaves. The crashing and snapping of undergrowth told the dark figure that the others had quickly departed, leaving only the two to face his wrath. Immediately they leapt to their feet, breathless and attempting to regain some of their dignity.
         “You!” He spat, snapping at the younger of the two. The silver furred Wolf pup cowered at the shout and licked the wound on his side. “I will deal with you later!” The black growled, turning his attention to the larger pup with a look of disapproval, but not anger.
         The larger pup snarled quietly and slunk off but didn’t object when his father yelled, “Get back to the den, now!”
         The black turned to face the silver pup and the coldness of hate in his eyes grew. The silver pup saw this and tears filled his golden eyes.
         “Father, it’s not fair, why do I get punished? It wasn’t my fault!” He said, trying not to seem weak in front of his father; weak pups didn’t last too long in the pack.
         The black’s muzzle wrinkled in irritation, “Do not speak to me like that, pup!” His teeth clicked together in warning but he held his stance.
         The silver pup wiped his tearful eyes on his foreleg and faced his father with a defiant stare.
         Unsettled by the pup’s golden eyes staring him down, the black felt his hackles bristling and resisted the urge to maim the innocent face. A growl slid from his throat, cautioning the younger wolf; after a moment, the pup’s already quaking resolve fell and he averted his eyes to the ground.
         “Father, you wanted to see me?” He asked, humbly brushing his nose to the older Wolf’s chin, his legs quivering in fear.
         Snorting in disagreement, the black said, “Hardly. I have no desire to see you, it was the Council who sent for you.”
         The pup’s humiliation vanished instantly, replaced with curiosity. “The Elders called for me? Did they say why? When?” He asked incredulously.
         The Wolf’s eyes narrowed into two amber slits as he lowered to his gaze to face the pup again. “No, they did not say why they would need you. All they said was that you are to go to the Grove, by the next full moon.”
         Performing a quick mental calculation, the pup exclaimed, “But that’s in three days! I won’t be able to make it!”
         The black Wolf leapt to his feet with a snarl, “Well then you best be preparing, pup!”
         Before the pup had a chance to react, he was spared the confrontation; another yearling pup, this one a gray female, came bounding out of the brush.
         “Father! Alpha IronFurr wanted to speak with you, he said it’s important!” She said, breathless.
         The black Wolf straightened and nodded curtly, his demeanor softening at her. “Yes, I expect he does,” he said to himself before turning to the she-Wolf pup, “Take him to the creek and tell him of the Elders and the Grove.”
         She began to protest, “But, Father, I don’t know as much about them as other members of the pack.”
         He shrugged as if to dismiss this, “Do it, he must know about them before he leaves.”
         She sighed but nodded. “Okay,” she glanced at the silver pup, “Come on, brother, let’s go.”

~*~

         The two younglings walked along the bank of the creek, the waters deep with the summer rains. The she-Wolf pup, a year her brother’s senior, relayed to him tales of the Grove and of the Council of Lupine Elders.
         “The first thing to know is not to look the Guards in the eyes,” she said, taking a seat in the grass.
         “Why?” He asked, sitting besides her.
         “SilverTooth, just let me finish. They have strange powers, and if you look them in the eyes you will never be able to find your way to the Elders,” she explained, licking a dainty paw.
         “Wait, so who are the Elders anyway?” he questioned.
         “I’m getting to that, oh-so-impatient-one!” she rolled her eyes and laughed.
         SilverTooth couldn’t help but to laugh with her, smiling as she complied.
         “The Elders are the oldest Wolves in the world and helped ensure our survival with what they know. For some reason, an Evil has risen again, resurrected from the seal placed upon it by the Elders themselves. It preys on young Wolves and pups, snatching them from their dens like a robin does to a worm in the ground,” she said, snapping at the air with her slim muzzle to demonstrate.
         “Is this what they want to see me about, QuickPaw?” he inquired, looking at his paws with a shudder.
         QuickPaw sighed, eyeing his downcast expression with concern, “I don’t know, but it must be important if they want you to go to the Grove. And you know, you won’t be back for a while, so I’d say goodbye the others too.”
         He nodded absentmindedly and stood to begin walking back to the den. QuickPaw’s voice cut through his reverie.
         “Wait, brother!” She shouted, standing and rushing to his side.
         SilverTooth paused and turned to face her, confused.
         QuickPaw held a small, leafy plant delicately between her teeth.
         “What is that?” He asked when she laid it by his feet.
         She smiled and nudged him encouragingly. “It’s a special herb I found in the woods, it will help you when you’re going to the Grove,” she told him, “It will numb out your hunger pains, but it probably won’t last the whole journey.”
         “Did it come to you in your dreams?” he questioned tentatively, knowing she’d understand.
QuickPaw’s smile grew broader, “Yes, one of the star dreams.”
SilverTooth returned the smile and picked up the supple stem with his teeth, crunching it between them. The bitter, but somehow sweet flavor of the leaves tasted foreign on his tongue; but as it settled into his stomach, he felt the demands of his hunger beginning to fade.
“Thank you, QuickPaw, I’m going to miss you.” Committing her honeysuckle sweet scent to memory, he laid his head over her shoulder, though with difficulty because of their size difference.
         “I’ll miss you too, SilverTooth,” she said, nudging him along with her nose, “Now you better get back for Father comes to find us.”
         He nodded briskly and loped away with gangly limbs back to the den. Upon arrival, both his father and the Alpha of the pack were standing there, waiting for him. Standing tall with tail held higher than the rest of the pack, the Alpha was proud and strong and led the pack well. SilverTooth’s father stood beside him, giving the impression he held Beta position, but this was not true.
         “It is time now, you must go or else you will not make in time,” the Alpha announced, glancing down at SilverTooth’s huddled form.
         His limbs trembled, but he nodded in affirmation, a sick feeling twisting in the pit of his gut. After a moment of silence, he stood and glanced behind the two Wolves to see his littermates huddled in the overhang of the den, solemnly watching. The four yearling Wolves bid him farewell in silence and SilverTooth accepted their unsaid goodbyes with a nod. Taking a deep breath and mustering his courage, SilverTooth turned his back on the only place he knew and loped out of sight.

~*~

         Eyes darting wildly, SilverTooth twitched in his sleep. His sleep images skipped around, flashing images as if filtering them in his subconscious. When the sickening swirling of his memories ceased, he saw himself traveling through the Grove.

~*~

         The thickest portion of the forest marked its entrance; a place where the tall trees, weathered and withered bark of gray and brown from years of sun deprivation, spread their massive canopies of leaves. Dark, wraith-like shapes lurked in the shadows of the trees, darting between them with wisps of black smoke trailing in their wake, hidden in the gloom of the forest. Menacing eyes caught the broken rays of sunlight, shining like beacons in the forest’s artificial night. They advanced; gradually becoming closer, but only glimpses could be seen as they sprinted from tree to tree.
         SilverTooth recognized them from the pictures his sister had painted in his mind; they were the Council Guards. Their deformed bodies, hunched and twisted, were barely visible in shafts of sunlight as they moved inconspicuously in the forest. They leered at him, sneering and hissing threats captured in echoes. Though his curiosity was not sated, he heeded his sister’s warning and turned his gaze away, focusing solely on his task.
         His superior sense of smell allowed him to pick out the familiar scent of Wolf in the torpid, particle-filled air. Using this as his guide, SilverTooth chose his path and followed it, and he was able to find the Court where the Elders resided. SilverTooth was dimly aware of the Guard’s presence as they slunk through the trees after him, watching him with scrutinizing eyes.
         When at last he entered the Court, a hushed silence and heavy pressure fell upon the forest. Passing through the twisted gates, SilverTooth felt drained of his energy; more hungry and tired with each passing moment. But he continued, despite his discomfort, curious to sense an odd odor, one that was musty and stagnant like mold. Focusing on its origin, SilverTooth spied what could only be the Elders’ sitting stones; large, gray boulders imbedded into the earth as if they’d gotten stuck rising from the bowels. A brisk wind stirred the air and SilverTooth stepped closer.
         Transparent shapes appeared on the stones, seeming to solidify as the wind died down. The Elders had arrived, now fully in the physical world. Their natural forms portrayed them as old, lethargic Wolves on the brink of death; shoulder and hip bones stuck out sharply, even under a thick pelt of fur, and their light gray coloring was reminiscent of deep coats now void of pigment. But as decrepit as they may seem, they were massive in size, towering over the young Wolf pup greatly, with a presence that spoke of their great power.
         He bowed to them, tentative to expose himself. “You s-sent for m-me?” he stuttered, unable to meet their intense gaze. The largest and most grizzled of them, the Alpha, nodded slowly, unmoved by the demands of time. His luminous eyes willed SilverTooth to look up at him.
         “The Evil has risen again, and has broken its seal. The full moon’s rays, once the binding force, now sets it free from its prison for as long as they shine down upon its back. No matter how it happened, it must be stopped before it can wreak more devastation upon our world. The Blood Moon is near, less than half a sun cycle away. At this time, those loyal to the Evil will perform the rite to release it forever. That is, unless,” the Alpha Elder began, stepping down from its height to glance down at SilverTooth clearer. As his sentence trailed away, the Elder nodded to the Wolf standing at his right shoulder, and the Beta Elder took up his thought.
         “Unless you do something to prevent it,” he started. “Questions will arise on your journey, but answering them is part of your task. The Evil will be waiting at Spirit’s Summit on the full moon of the solstice; the Blood Moon. You will go there…” he said, now pausing to let the third Elder take up the story.
         “And banish it, using this!” The Elder reached toward the ground and tenderly grabbed something in his teeth. As he moved off of his perch on the stone, SilverTooth saw a black twine cord from which a crescent shaped object, decorated with shiny stones and feathers, hung from. “It is the key; without it, the Evil cannot be destroyed.”
         SilverTooth cowered from the Elder’s form descending to his level, suspicious of the Charm and the dark vibe it held. With an intense stare, the Elder’s power held him in place, and stricken by unexplainable paralysis, SilverTooth could do nothing but watch. The Elder lowered the Charm, allowing its twine cord to loop over the young Wolf’s neck. Its weight settled to the center of his chest, and as the Elder ascended to his perch, mobility returned to his body.
         “If you should succeed, you will be rewarded beyond imagination,” The fourth of the Elders said, startling SilverTooth with the sudden booming voice. “But if you should fail, you will be an outcast, exiled from our world.”
         At that point, the last of the five Elders took up the speech. “You will no longer be under our protection, forever under scorn; dead to the world!” As he shouted the words, ringing out and echoing in the silent forest, a great wind rose from behind the Court, blasting SilverTooth with debris and dust as it swirled around.
         SilverTooth whimpered and ducked to the ground, eyes searing with the force of the wind. The Council loomed at the edge of their thrones, the Guards seeming to materialize from the forest behind them, blocking all exits to the Court. Their snarls grated in the air as the Elder’s mutated from their stoic expressions into faces twisted by anger, ferocity and power. Their presence became a tangible, pulsing aura in the air, forcing down on SilverTooth and choking him.
         “If you fail, WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN!” They screamed in unison; eyes of burning crimson pinning him where he stood and saliva dripping from their fangs as they leapt around in a frenzied dance. The images began to dissolve, the Grove swirling. Baring their fangs, the Guards squealed in delight, creeping closer. The maniac laughter of the Elders and hungered shrieks and roars of the Guards were shrill in his ears. Trying to avoid the sound, SilverTooth shut his eyes tightly, but their wails pierced his mind. The ground shook violently, threatening upset his balance; his eyes shot open in alarm, the forest was melting around him. The Elders paused in their dance and circled him; their wild cries rose to a deafening crescendo as they tensed, and pounced…

~*~

         SilverTooth woke, panting; his eyes rolled as he stood. Trembling, his limbs were cold and numb, as though made of stone. Heat flooded him, from fear and pain, his sight misted red with anger and embarrassment at his vulnerability. Those moments frightened him more and more as time wore on; replaying them brought back the feelings he’d experienced during the time he’d spent with his pack, under his father’s watchful, scornful eyes. The dull pain of fatigue and stress pounded in his temples, and he exited the cave’s shelter to obtain some fresh air. Forced to shuffle because of his sore paws, he took a seat outside the cave and proceeded to complete his morning grooming ritual, to take his mind off the rebounding anxiousness of his dreams.
         Yawning, he discovered his tongue felt like sandpaper and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d drank. It was an annoyance, but nothing that would dissuade him from continuing.
         Wind bristled through the trees, and SilverTooth shivered, ruffling his layers of fur to trap the warmth in them. A patchy winter coat, still shedding out, was all he had for warmth, and it was much colder than he was used to. The landscape was not fertile forest but prickly vegetation and cool stone; even the breeze had a different feel, crisp and full of the scent of pine.
         SilverTooth tilted his head back, raising his nose to the wind and sniffed; detecting the water scent now growing heavier in the air.
         The second mark of his trail was the Black River; a waterway, deep and swift, that split the western mountainous land from the forest lands. Living solely in the forest, SilverTooth had never before seen the River; but several of his pack mates, born beyond its banks, often told him of its deep, unforgiving waters and frothy rapids. The hunters, crossing it often on their trips, told stories of how it earned its name; of how the floor was lined with slit so thick the water itself was black.
         He had been judging the distance to the River by scent alone because he had no knowledge of which direction to take; now, growing closer to the River, the scent saturated the air more and more heavily each day. Hopefully, he would reach the banks by midday, as the strength of the scent suggested.
         Padding along his path, SilverTooth could move no faster than a leisurely run as a result of his fatigue. He followed his senses, grateful the land was bare and the obstacles barring his path were few and far between. Among his pack he had shown great promise as a future tracker and perhaps would have been leader of the hunt if he had not been appointed for the task; finding Black River would be no challenge at all, his feet moved as if of their own accord, taking him from the open no-man’s land into the Black River territory.
         Though faint and in the distant reaches of his mind, he had memories of running through dense forests and great outcroppings of rock and of resting under the heady scent of pine. For a reason he could not quite place, it reminded him of home but more particularly, of his mother.
         His pack was named the White Peak Forest pack, based off of their territory; as were most packs. Their lands stretched from the base of the great mountain range to the thick forest they now resided under, where prey was plentiful and available and they could avoid the tall, hairless predators who challenged them. Thinking back to the brief times of running through these woods made him smile in memory.
         Together they had braved many hardships; like the Great Winter, when the snow had blocked the entrance to the Den and SilverTooth and his half siblings had been stuck inside for three days, but they stayed alive.  The pack managed to dig them out those few days later, although they were starving, and their hope was beginning to die; or when the Famine came, and there was so little food for many weeks, barely enough for a mouthful; the pack thought that the pups would die, being so tiny and young.  But the pack had kept their spirits up, urging them to keep going.  Or even the time when the two-leg hunters came through, tearing up their land and almost killing some of SilverTooth's pack mates, they survived.  Hanging on the last thread of life, clinging to whatever they could, they survived, and that was what made SilverTooth proud.

         
~*~

         Entering the Black River territory, SilverTooth was assaulted with the fatigue that had been wearing him down and the sights and sounds of the forest only overwhelmed him more. His exhaustion was beginning to get the better of him; now sheltered under the vast canopies, SilverTooth felt safe enough to sit down and catch his stolen breath.
         Tiny gnats buzzed annoyingly around his head; he swatted them, irritated at their insistent presence and stared off into the dim lighted forest. The morning sun was growing hazy as noon neared and the air shimmered with rising heat; animals stirred above, grateful for the warm spell and the forest was teeming with life high in the canopies.
         Crows wheeled in the air above the tops of the trees, communicating through ‘caws’ in their search for carrion; bird speech was unfamiliar and coarse to SilverTooth’s ears, but he understood the intent nonetheless. And though they knew of his presence, they kept their distance; crows were none too friendly with Wolves and the feelings were mutual. Uneasiness passed through SilverTooth as he passed-- wary of their leering, beady eyes, he quickened his pace.
         Twigs and leaves crunched and snapped under SilverTooth’s paw; scents of sap and earth flooded his nose as he traversed over the bed of dead pine needles. The other inhabitants of the forest were hidden from his view, but he could sense their presence regardless; squirrels in hollowed out trees, birds twittering in their nests, rabbits in their burrows and many others all around him. Their fear of him as a predator kept them from revealing their whereabouts and kept him from becoming distracted. As it was, the lack of visual on the Black River was discouraging him and a sense of discomfort, its origin he could not place, was making him uneasy.
         It was past midday and he had gauged that he would have seen the banks when the sun was at its peak. Despite this, the scent of water was heavy in the air and steadily growing stronger as he continued into the forest.
         Minutes passed and the ground was becoming steeper, the trees oddly stretched to reach the sky without losing the spread of their roots. SilverTooth ascended the swell of the hill, quickening his pace so as not to lose the momentum of his climb. Sweat began to prickle his fur at the attempt to remain standing; the ground was slick and packed down, making it difficult to keep upright.
         Climbing that last bit of ground to reach the uppermost surface, SilverTooth heard a great rush and glanced down to see the winding depths of the River carved into the land below. Excitement spiked through him and a triumphant smile came to his face. His relief was immense; he had begun to fear he’d somehow gone in the wrong direction.

The vastness of the River was beyond his imagining; it was greater than any of his pack mates had been able to convey. Now, he was eager to see it up close and rest from the previous journey. Mindful of his steps, he descended the slope, his footsteps sending little bits of loose soil tumbling down the hill. Momentum carried him to the bottom where the earth leveled out on the banks before the sheer drop into the rolling waters of the River.

Glancing out on the winding trail the water cut into the land, SilverTooth admired how the raging black water rushed over the weathered rocks, but also feared the tumultuous depths and knew the danger of being swallowed into the rapids. He grimaced at the thought of being bashed to his death or drowning in that water, and kept a safe distance away.

The brief feeling of exultation was beginning to drain from his blood and replacing it was the ache of his muscles and the pounding of his head. He took the opportunity to sit and cool off, as the air around the River was crisp and the tumbling water’s spray misted the air, feeding the lush vegetation growing on the banks. His eyes began to feel heavy, slipping shut as he relaxed from his already difficult journey.

A rustling in the underbrush distracted his attention, but when he cracked an eye open to investigate, there was nothing. He shoved the thought from his mind and continued to enjoy the moment, unhindered by the looming responsibility he held. After a few moments, a second rustling was heard. This time, SilverTooth got to his feet and did a full scan of the valley, both on his side of the River and the area on the opposite bank. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the fur along his back prickled with discomfort despite that. Then, he knew where he had felt that same feeling previously.
When he had crested the hill, looking out onto the valley of Black River, a prickling had disturbed him; the same sense he felt now. A wave of nausea followed soon after. His heartbeat quickened and his glances became anxious. The only way out of the valley was either back up the surrounding hills, or to cross the River.

A sudden spike in tension made him freeze, and his ears swiveled to the sound of a low growl in the dim shadow of the pine trees. A massive, dark shape seemed to materialize from the shadow and striking amber eyes glimmered at him from a face of black fur. Stalking forward, the black Wolf snarled, a deep warning growl in the pit of his throat that made SilverTooth’s fur stand up in response to the challenge. Instinct flooded him, clouding his mind with nothing but the command to attack.
Reason and another unknown force made SilverTooth resist; the Wolf was much larger than him and clearly very serious. He began to recede from the Wolf’s threats, but each step brought him closer to Black River’s swirling torrents. The heat of adrenaline dissipated, leaving his mind clear. All at once, he recognized the Wolf before him. The glinting amber eyes and dark fur stuck out sharply in his memory.

“BlackMuzzle?” He asked; his voice barely above a whisper. Immediately, the snarl disappeared from the Wolf’s face and he straightened.

His eyes narrowed as he sized up SilverTooth, inspecting him. His black nostrils quivered as they took in his scent, curiosity taking over. For what seemed like an eternity of standing still, SilverTooth was relieved when the Wolf took a step back and the hint of a smile lit up his features.

“Brother, where have you been?” BlackMuzzle asked accusingly, his wagging tail giving away his mock seriousness. SilverTooth grinned in reply and bounded forward to close the gap between them.
The brothers circled one another and touched noses, reacquainting with each other after their time apart. Even though SilverTooth was related to his siblings only through his mother, they did not make the distinction because of the bond they shared.

Clearly the larger of the two and therefore holding higher authority, BlackMuzzle ended the meeting rituals and sat down on the banks, inviting SilverTooth to join him.

“You know, brother,” BlackMuzzle began, giving SilverTooth a sideways glance, “for a moment there, when I first spotted you, I mistook you for something dangerous.”

Chuckling, SilverTooth shoved him, “Apparently, I was thinking the same about you.”

“Of course I won’t make the same mistake again,” BlackMuzzle retorted, nipping his brother on the shoulder with a grin.

SilverTooth flashed his fangs in response and glanced out over the River. “Do you live far from here, brother?”

BlackMuzzle shook his head, “Just beyond that ridge, actually. You caught me in the middle of checking the boundaries.”

Nodding, SilverTooth affirmed to himself that the sense of unease was indeed from passing through another Wolf’s territorial boundaries.

“Well, don’t let me stop you, brother, I was only passing through anyhow,” SilverTooth said, gathering his limbs to stand.

“Wait a moment! Brother, you would dare to leave without coming to my den?” BlackMuzzle had stood and now looked at SilverTooth with a bit of hurt disbelief.

SilverTooth hesitated; as much as visiting BlackMuzzle’s den and seeing his siblings again would bring his the greatest of joy, time was dwindling.

He sighed, “Of course I wouldn’t, BlackMuzzle, I was merely distracted by the passing time.”

BlackMuzzle’s eyes lit up in happiness, but were clouded by confusion. “What constraints would take you away?”

Again, SilverTooth paused. “It’s probably best I explain on the way.” BlackMuzzle nodded slowly but turned and began to walk back towards the forest.

SilverTooth followed a few paces behind, pondering at how he would delineate his task, without revealing the gravity of it all. He could not willing cause his brother to worry if he could help it.

As they walked along, SilverTooth secretly envied his brother and his choice of habitat. With the bright, forest woodlands that circled his territory and the cool banks of the River not too far, it was near perfect.

His silent thoughts were broken by BlackMuzzle’s voice. “So, tell me what it is that’s so important you would miss a visit.”

“Do you recall my summons to the Grove, back when we were just pups?” SilverTooth questioned, hurrying forward to walk beside him.

“Yes, everyone does,” he replied, if a bit bitterly.

“Well, not long ago, they asked me to come back,” he started.

“Ah, so that’s where you were,” his brother said, nodding.

SilverTooth glanced over, not understanding.

“We thought the worst when we heard nothing of you for a few moon-cycles,” he clarified.

“I see. Well, I was called back to the Grove with instructions to find White Peak, and Black River was supposed to be the second landmark along the trail.”

“White Peak? That is very far from home, what business has you there?” BlackMuzzle’s tone was incredulous.

SilverTooth sighed, thinking it best to say it plainly. “I am to complete a task for the Council.”
BlackMuzzle stopped in the path, giving SilverTooth a skeptical look, and SilverTooth could tell he was holding back from rolling his eyes.

SilverTooth had anticipated this reaction, but had thought that time would soften BlackMuzzle’s jealousy. Of all his siblings, BlackMuzzle had had the worst reaction when he’d heard the news of SilverTooth’s first summons to the Grove. Being eldest of the pups, it was only natural that he would take succession to any important tasks.

“You’re not a pup anymore, SilverTooth. I thought you had gotten over these tall tales years ago. It’s time to forget about it, and you know, find a mate and settle down,” BlackMuzzle responded.

SilverTooth shook his head, irked at the resentment still present in BlackMuzzle’s voice. “This isn’t a joke, BlackMuzzle, and nor is it a ‘tale’.” Though knowledge of his journey to the Grove was not exactly a secret among his pack, he’d not told his family the exact nature of his task.

“What is it then?” BlackMuzzle snarled.

“The Council chose me to bring this,” he gestured to the Charm, “to White Peak before the Blood Moon.”

Any shred of BlackMuzzle’s calmness snapped at the significance of the Charm dangling from SilverTooth’s neck. His hackles bristled with fury. “The Council of Elders put you in charge of that?!” The jealousy and rage he’d been hiding was plain in his voice. “This is not something to be treated so carelessly!”

Silver Tooth nodded, stepping back to give his brother space. “They seem to believe I can handle the responsibility,” he remarked with a sneer as he flattened his ears to his head.

BlackMuzzle’s eyes narrowed and Silver Tooth could see he was deliberating on whether or not to rise to the bait of the challenge. But after a moment his features smoothed and he broke eye contact.
“Well, I suppose if they trust you, then who am I to say otherwise? They know what they’re doing,” he commented, turning away in clear dismissal.

SilverTooth snorted but said nothing, and instead waited for his brother to continue. The sable Wolf turned away and resumed walking down the trail. They barely spoke as they walked along, the old resentment BlackMuzzle harbored toward his brother without due cause had made him bitter. It was, after all, not SilverTooth’s fault to have been chosen by the Council; their choices often made little sense, but bore good results, as the past had revealed.

It was not long before the brothers entered the welcoming shelter of the forest’s trees and the heavy scents of Wolf passed over them; SilverTooth hesitated, the excitement of the moment had made him jittery.

BlackMuzzle stopped and glanced back to see if he still followed. When he saw SilverTooth’s expression he had to smile. “Come on, brother,” he called to him.
SilverTooth grinned in response, the tension between them had evaporated and he felt like a pup again, following his big brother on a mischievous journey.