It has been six moons since Smoke's death. Dusty never told anyone in his pack, he just led them on. One of his pack members found an abandoned cub in the forest, and Dusty took him as his own, but leading a pack and being a father with grief on you...
Hope is not an emotion or a trait, it is much more than that. That is what Dusty had learned in the moons following Smoke's death, he learned what hope truly was.
With grief on his shoulders, Dusty walked back to camp. He didn't know if anything would ever make him happy again, not after what he had just seen.
"Dusty! We found something!" Dusty heard one of his pack members calling to him as he entered the camp.
"What is it? What have you found?" Dusty asked in a monotone.
"We found a cub, there were no signs of any other wolf in the forest, though. We had no choice but to bring him back here, will we take him in?" Frost asked me curiously. Hope swelled inside me, could I raise this cub as my own? Could this cub be a new member of the pack?
"We will raise this cub as a pack cub, and from this moment, this cub will be my son." Dusty said with pride. The pack cheered their approval so loud the citizens of the moon must have heard them. The little cub lying asleep on the rock gave Dusty a bit of wisdom he had never had before. Dusty now knew that however much you feel like you've lost hope, you haven't. Hope is a constant companion, along with fear. Sometimes you can't feel it, but sometimes you feel it so strongly, and nothing else can stop you. But that cub, that little cub was what Dusty knew would be the savior of his small pack.
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