The old pack leader, Strider, had been growing increasingly frail as the winter wore on. Unwilling to strain pack resources he had started eating less. As he felt his own end draw near, he sat up on his favorite lookout hill in the Temperate Forest. His breathing grew slower and deeper and when the sun finally peeked through the trees on that chill, ice rimed morning, he breathed his last.
The hunters had been having trouble finding game lately but Aroree finally brought down a massive elk buck. As she went to report her success to her chief, she found him cold and stiff, a peaceful expression on his face. She gave a long howl of mourning and that was how Windkin knew it was finally time to take his place as leader.
Windkin was already past two years of age, having scouted, hunted and protected pups. He'd had some pups of his own and they'd been healthy. Though he was a bit nervous filling Strider's giant footsteps, he knew he was ready.
