Howls snaking through the night struck his fragile heart.

The prophecy:

High above the mountain tops falls the snow, crunched underfoot by wolf paws, melting, freezing.

It for-told his future, woven from the skilful tongue of his Delta, the pack healer.

A week had passed since he, the Alpha, made his pack feel Honour, Courage and Strength.

His mate was expecting pups, and Warg was glad that they would grow up in a society, not a mangle of little pups in a family.

Already he had inducted unrelated loners into his pack, after they were cast out by coward parents who were afraid to see what he saw.

His first-born pup would one day become Alpha, leader of the Waning Winds Pack.

He was as proud as the winds the carcass the grass below, but he was as fleeting as a summer breeze.

The grass would continue to spread, while he  would be whisked off into the unknown, into another life, another world.

There he would meet the wilted trees, the seeds of his ancestors would whisper to him, and he would once more gently stroke the grass with his ethereal breath.

He would be at rest, the weight of an Alpha lifted from his conscience. This was all that he wanted. For his pack to prosper and grow.

And for it to survive - no matter what it costed him, for Warg was selfless in that way.

And selfish in many other ways.