A golden wolf panted in the rain, flanked by his two adult pups on either side. The two wolves look unsure, but follow their father without question. The three come to a clearing in the heart of the pack’s territory. Someplace the younger wolves had yet to see. It was peaceful there, far too peaceful for the territory of a pack. But they noticed that there was little scent of wolf, outside of a three-cycle old trail left by their father. Sacha watched his pups’ confusion, before continuing his path. It lead to a clump of vines near a cliffside, where the grassland above met the forest in the form of a sheer drop no wolf would escape uninjured by. The golden wolf pushed aside the vines with his nose, revealing shelter from the rain. “I try not to come here too often,” he says, heading inside the dark crevice. “Come in, there’s much to discuss.” As the grown pups felt the patter of the crying sky leave their pelts when they entered, they started to shake. “No!” their father snapped, his voice echoing down the tunnel. “There is no drying off in this cave!” Confused, the pups followed him in wet misery. However… the rain had subsided entirely, and light shone through the opening of the cave, revealing a few images. One was mostly grey, and looked like the mountains in the distance. There was a large grey wolf next to it, followed by several smaller wolves. “When I was a pup, my birth pack died of illness. My mother had taken my litter and I to safety deep in the mountains, and finished raising us as best she could on her own. By the end of winter, the sickness had followed us, and I was alone.” They passed the image, and another one followed, this time a yellow wolf in budding green trees. The more they looked at each picture, the more their father explained. He was alone all through spring and summer, surviving off rabbits and whatever else he could find. But he didn’t stop going, didn’t establish a territory - grieving for his lost family. The siblings stopped at a bright blue wolf on a rock, their father standing a few tail lengths away. That was Aura, their father’s spirit guardian. She had died before she was born, and her spirit had wandered the starlit sky waiting for another lone traveler to bond with. The importance of spirit guardians was unclear to the siblings, but their father simply stated that every wolf had one, and they had pups alongside their living pack, and that the two sets of pups grew up together. Soon, they came to the spring they were born, where their grey mother was curled around two pups, one more like their father and one white. Leyla and Tarik gasped. Their early lives were there, written in pictures on the stone wall. “What does this mean, father?” Tarik questioned. His father smiled. “This is the story of our pack. This is our legacy, everything about our pack that’s worth protecting. One day, when I am no longer, I’ll be looking at you two, my firstborn pups, to ensure that our story lives on.” Leyla looked to her brother, who looked at his sister’s belly. A few days ago, she had announced that she was expecting, and thus was carrying the next generation of the pack. Their legacy. The very precious ones that were worth protecting. |
