It was warm that day, the light creeping its way into the hollow and turning the hard-packed snow to liquid, seeping through the fur of the wolves inside.
BrackenClaw was the first to emerge into the mush and wet, squinting at the blazing sun.
"Good morning." A sweet voice said politely. He turned around to the unfamiliar sound and saw Flurry smiling prettily at him.
He returned the welcome and glanced back up at the sky.
"We should probably get moving." He suggested.
"I don't want to wake EagleEyes so early. She seemed really dead to the world when I woke up." Flurry said guiltily, flicking her eyes to the den.
"We don't really have time to waste." BrackenClaw growled agitatedly. "I know. But she brought me all the way here and she's been through a lot." Flurry countered.
The brownish male sighed and stared at her. "Well, you're a handful." He growled offhandedly.
She glanced away but then grinned. "Glad to be of help." She said.
BrackenClaw smiled winningly and then raced away into woods.
Flurry meandered around the camp as BrackenClaw hunted, pondering over something useful to do, besides galloping after him.
EagleEyes was starting to stir in the hollow. Flurry padded over to her and nudged her.
"Good morning, Flurry." EagleEyes said with a yawn, a less-than-awake voice.
"You too." EagleEyes got to her feet and shook the snowflakes from her coat.
"Where's BrackenClaw?" She asked, with another yawn.
"Out hunting. He just took off." EagleEyes looked pleased. "Good. Hopefully he's planning on feeding us too." Flurry never thought of that. The cunning old could just be out to feed his own mouth.
"I'll go find him and make sure." Flurry told her. She was sick of laying around.
"All right. I'll catch up with you later. Possibly when I'm actually awake."
Flurry hurdled into the dark, welcoming safety of the trees, the spongy ground under her paws relaxing and soft.
She caught the scent of her new-found friend on the wind and continued her hunt through the tall pines.
YOU ARE READING
ONE
FantasyNOTE: LAST BOOK IN SERIES. TWO OTHERS COME BEFORE IT No creature can match the breathtaking grace of a timber wolf, the way it's paws silently glide through the snow, ears pricked for sound, ice caught in its thick coat. No creature can match the...
