Fir's Cones

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Fir's Cones gazes over the few, drably colored wolves milling about the clearing, shooting darting glances at each other, exchanging a few tense words. He knows this could go ever so horribly, but he has to try. One paw in front of the other, he reminds himself, and slowly steps out from under the overhang where he had been resting. Immediately, a hush falls over the wolves and they all turn to look at him.

Snow Goat, a dirty white male, looks at him consideringly. "Fir's Cones," he says slowly, "why have you gathered us here? Clearly you want something from us, so I'd kindly ask that you get on with it. I have a lovely sunshine-warmed rock back a few length that I'd love to get back to." A few other wolves murmur assent. The vibe is not friendly, but it isn't exactly hostile either. Merely coldly considering.

Fir's Cones takes a deep breath and nods to Snow Goat. "I'm aware you all are...loners, as we call you. But I have gathered you here because I truly think that our best chance of survival lies within each other. I have roamed these woods since I was a pup, moon upon moon, and I have spoken to each and every one of you and seen problems which could easily be solved if we simply came together."

He turns to Goat's Holler, a brownish shewolf with a couple of puppies gamboling at her paws. "Goat, you have spoken to me of how you cannot hunt far because your pups need you at the den. If we banded together, you would not have to worry about that. You could safely look after your pups and still be fed by others."

"Eagle's Perch," a dusty she-wolf narrows her piercing yellow eyes at him, "you could hunt prey three times your size. I have seen you try at the elk, biting their ankles, harrying their calves, and I have also seen them kick you away like a gnat. What if you had a pawful of other wolves to aid you, to bring down the biggest bull or the smallest calf? I believe they wouldn't consider you a gnat then."

A golden wolf blinks in surprise as Fir's Cones narrows in on him. "Crow's Feather, how many times have I heard you mourn that wolves die too frequently because they were too sick to get to you, or were too late in finding you? Imagine a camp, where you could dispense your healing easily and quickly to those who need it - a permanent place, so you wouldn't have to carry herbs from resting place to resting place." Crow's Feather's eyes lit up at the idea, and his gaze warmed from chilly to moderately interested.

Fir's Cones' gaze sweeps over the entire gathering, holding them to him. This was the crucial point. "We must leave our old, solitary ways behind. This forest, and the lands surrounding it, can sustain a large pack. We can raise new generations and feed them off of the animals we can defeat together. One wolf alone cannot take down an elk, or a cow, but together..." he trails off, letting their imaginations put the rest together. "And not only that, we can protect each other. If a pack nearby were to suddenly decide they wanted this territory for themselves, well, what kind of resistance would a handful of lone wolves be able to put up? But together, banding together, we could carve ourselves a niche here. We could stand at the top of the forest and howl our name to the stars."

He pauses for breath and then tilts his head, saying quietly, "So. Who will walk beside me when we rule these pines?"

A moment of tension, and then Crow's Feather steps forward, dipping his head. "I will, Fir's Cones. I pledge my paws to your steps and my soul to your cause."

Silver Fox, a lithe she-wolf with sparkling yet keen eyes, joins him. "I will. I pledge my paws to your steps and my soul to your cause."

Goat's Holler glances at her puppies and then all three of them stand up and walk forward. "We will as well. I pledge my paws to your steps and my soul to your cause."

One by one, most of the wolves gathered stepped forward and swore themselves to Fir's Cones. A few slunk away into the night, but, frankly, far less than Fir's Cones had been expecting. As he stood at the head of his new pack and looked around, assessing and evaluating and seeing the new way they looked at each other - as packmates, not as rivals - he knew they had started something magnificent.

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LORE RESCUED FROM A WOLF I COULDN'T STORE:

Fir's Cones ducks into the herbalist's den and Goat's Holler looks up at him with a tired but ready smile, her quick eyes flashing over him. "Greetings, Fir. How is the wind blowing?" Crow's Feather also looks up with a smile and nod, then goes back to plastering herbs onto Goat's Holler's pelt.

Fir smiles back and sits next to her. "Greetings, Goat, the wind blows for the pack as always. How are you?"

Goat sighs. "Oh, you know. The joints are acting up again, which is why I'm here, but it's a nice day, so I can't complain too much. I'm fairly certain I won't see too many more nice days."

"Oh, Goat," Fir says sadly. He knows better than to tell her she will live for much longer - wolves have a sixth sense for when their eyes will grow empty, but he wishes he could just know she was wrong and that she would walk by his side through the forest, talking and laughing, like they used to do. "Thank you for everything you have given to the pack."

"Ah, it was a pleasure. You know how much I love puppies." Goat grins happily at the memories those words conjure. After the two pups she had brought to the pack had died, one of sickness and one lost in the woods, she had only borne one other litter, from a stranger who had visited briefly, but she loved looking after the other wolves' litters, and she was quite good at it too. No-nonsense, but fun too. "So why are you here, Fir? I know you've got plenty of other duties."

"Well, Goat, I came to tell you it's time for your retirement."

Her head cocks to the side. "My retirement?" Of course she wouldn't know - she was the first wolf in the pack to grow this old, and he had just decided this morning.

"Your retirement. You're no longer required to look after the pups - you are, of course, welcome to play with them, but from now on your official jobs are only telling stories, sleeping in the sun, and enjoying what's left to you. The pack wants to honor your dedication and the time you've given us." Fir tilts his head back at her.

Goat's tail thumps against the ground a couple times as she considers him, but Fir can't tell whether it's in pleasure or consideration. "I see...retirement. That does sound rather nice. I can't quite keep up with the more rough and tumble pups anymore." Sadness fills her gaze at what has left her, and at the memory of the pups grown up, the pups who have left the pack, and the pups who have died. Then she looks back at him, her eyes as sharp as ever, she smiles, and Fir's Cones know she has accepted his gift. "Thank you, Fir's Cones. Your paws have always walked a true path." She dips her head respectfully.

"Thank you, Goat's Holler. I hope the sun warms your pelt and the moon pulls your soul for as long as it can." He dips his head back, formality befitting an elder, and stands up. "By my authority, your role as pupsitter has been stripped from you." Goat's Holler looks up at him and shivers, hearing the end of the career she has served in her whole life. "Henceforth, you will be an elder. The pack's first elder. And far from our last." Then he smiles, touches his nose to her forehead, and licks her cheek gently. "May the wind guide your paws and when the spirits come to you, I hope you touch noses with only peace."

"Thank you." Goat's Holler whispers.