1370 words...

It had been two years after that incident with Mahogany. We were always meeting in secret - always chatting about the war, about who got killed, and about our pack life. It was amazing, for both of us, to hear about it.

Of course, we couldn't meet up all the time since I had hunting and fighting practice and stuff, and he had, well, his skill finding ceremony.

He would begin once he chose his job, having to choose it this moon.                                                         
And he was really cutting it close.

We met around once every full moon before, but now? Every quarter moon, or every 7 nights. Nothing has changed between me and him, except perhaps my slight crush on him, and that physical stuff....

Though he was obviously younger than me, he was around a head and a half taller than me, bigger than most males. But I had become a bullet - and though never crossing the line - he could never pin me down if he tried, even with his size.

I was mastering this new speed (with his help sometimes), and I had become one of the fastest she-wolves in our pack.

Me being prideful was an understatement.

See, my speed and wits are very noticeable among my pack of 45 wolves, and it was almost like a ranking to be faster than someone else for females. It showed who was superior due to their speed. For males, it was pure strength and muscle.

But I had a problem with being the fastest.

Our ceremony - called Sheinyin's Wish - would decide what we were the best at, so that Alpha Caribou could decide where to put us during an emergency - for broad information, she says.
Though I know that she has more intentions than that.

I could tell that Caribou rather liked my coat color, as whenever I walk into camp, I can see her gazing at it with hinted at curiosity.

See, if you have not guessed, most of our wolves are all, rather... plain white colored, some with maybe a bit of gray on their backs or tails.

Wyethrin says that she likes being white, as it looks very pretty to her.
I disagree.

I walked along the cozy camp this afternoon, such a peaceful time that neither packs would dare attack each other to ruin a day like today, but for our safety, I can see some seniors laying on the edge of our paradise with sharp eyes - perhaps too sharp.
I feel my paw pads crunch on the hardened snowy floor and watch as a leaf flies past me in the wind. As each day passes, like today, I can slowly see the wandering leaves begin to ripen, it's colors sharpening and opening in the presence of the new spring approaching.
This changes many things.
As all of us wolves in the pack are either dead or can walk on our own by this point, so it is time to soon create a haven for the new generation. This adds to the fact that our pack needs more souls to protect, provide and give the pups.
Meaning that Sheinyin's Wish is coming sooner than I had hoped it to, but perhaps it was worth it as the pups a year younger  than me squealed at the sight of a butterfly gliding in the fresh, spring wind.

I was 3 years old now, and though still a juvenile wolf in size, we all had the minds of a senior.

!Note!

Keep in mind that this is NOT a real, legitimate story about wolves with actual facts!
The ages and abilities, as well as almost everything but looks (in SOME cases) are off or far fetched, so please do not think of this story to have real life facts about wolves.

Another thing that I should add is that they live in a Tundra, because.... Plot?
Good day, nice reading!

— —  —  —

I was able to hunt and attack efficiently now, as well as overcoming the ability to jump at every stick or leaf that passes my way.
I had noticed, through the two years, how my body began to change rapidly.
My head grew quickly, until I looked like a head with a body attached to it, and my tail began to get extra fluffy. My body soon began to increase to the proportions of the rest of me, and my coat grew thick and fluffy, expanding as Winter came upon us. My paws turned hard while my fangs had gotten long and sturdy, like a rock.
And as soon and rapidly as it started, it stopped.

I could still feel myself growing, sort of.
My coat was always changing and shedding when need-be, and my body continued to slowly grow.
Other than that, I knew that I was done, that this was how big I was gonna get, and how my coat color wouldn't change a bit.

I stopped watching the leaf and looked over to another scene of two year-old pups playing in Hide Snow, their names being Ilia and Wasmo.
Wasmo was The Rabbit, which did suit him, showing that he didn't have even a hare of a different color on his body, just a nervously thin coat (the pack is unsure if he will survive next winter, due to it) and a heavily built body shape, even for a male. He also came with yellowish green eyes which always seemed to be lit up and in a joyful mood.
In the most difficult times, the pack could count on Wasmo to brighten the mood, perhaps by cracking a joke or by chasing around a mouse til we all were smiling.
The Rabbit's job is to not get found, or to bury themselves into the snow and jump out to scare The Wolf.

The Wolf, in this case, was Ilia.
It was funny watching her look for the white plump of 'snow', as she was noticeably smaller than Wasmo, but not by much.
Her body was a similar build to Wasmo's, but smaller and sharper, in a way. She, though, had a long coat that was the same pure white as Wasmo, holding just the slightest gray front paws. Her nose was also built differently, like a bears and one of her ears had a bit of a droop at the end of it.
The Wolf's job was to try and find The Rabbit and scare them, or, in this case, tackle them til it 'died'.

Ilia finally noticed the odd fluffy ball of snow and pounced on it without hesitation, pride filling her eyes as they rolled around, Wasmo eventually landing on top as Ilia screamed bloody murder at him, her self pride shattered in an instant as she slapped him in the face and ran away, Wasmo laughing joyously behind her.

This reminded me of the time when I myself was playing that game, as The Rabbit, naturally.

I had played it with mom, as Wyethrin was usually busy sleeping in or sneaking out of camp, and the others hated me. A pang ran through my chest at this memory, with parents.
How when they thought we were asleep, would get into arguments, saying how they never wanted this job, calling us all names which made us cry ourselves to sleep.

They would wake up the next morning as if nothing happened, putting on a grin which masked their displeasure of us.

It was one of the few times which made me question my pack, as it was very rare to get unaccepting parents in Freesia. But watching these two made me firm on my idea of my own pack, wether good or bad, can see the obvious and not dwell on the future, caring about others more than themselves.

The pang still hit deep, though, as I pictured their future.
Just as every generation had gone through, just as Rewruno had.
I saw them as grown wolves, fighting for a cause that would come as useless of the inevitable.
I saw them laying in blood-stained snow, crows circling their dead bodies as nobody cared to glance at them while they fought.
And I saw myself next to them