The Elemental Wolves *ON HOLD*

The Hunt *unedited*

The pup, more an adolescent in age now, scurried under the moose pelt as Sholo's footsteps echoed, her nails clicking on the ice floor. He snuggled up against it and laid flat, so she wouldn't see him; it also kept him warm. Although he had been at the castle nearly a year, he still hadn't adapted to the natural chill of the Frozen Land.

The white, elegant wolf entered the room, stretching her beautiful, feathered wings, and lowered her snout to the ground.

Sniffing, she questioned playfully, "I wonder where my pup has gone."

The young wolf chuckled quietly to himself. He wagged his tail; he loved when she called him her pup. He knew she actually adopted him, and that she didn't want him to think he had other parents, but he still loved being called it. He could hear his tail thumping on the floor, giving away his location.

Sholo spoke calmly, "Pup, I know where you are; you don't quite fit under the skin anymore. You're fully grown, can you believe it? Now, please come out."

He looked back behind him, and noticed his back legs and tail stuck outside the skin. I swear I fit completely under here last month! He crawled out skittishly, belly rubbing on the floor in submission, he thought something was bothering her.

She frowned, "Stand tall, you have no reason to look like that!"

He corrected his posture to look like hers, smooth and regal, but he was more burly than her, and failed.

She smiled, then frowned again, "My pup... I've never called you by your true name because I don't know it..."

He rotated his brown ears, confused, and stared into her calm eyes.

She stared back into his, "Do you know your name?"

It seemed to trouble her to ask such a question, perhaps because it forced the young wolf to think about the past he could hardly remember. He tried to recall a common phrase directed at him, but all he could think about was the strange words the other wolves had spoken at his birthplace. They didn't sound correct to him, almost like another language. He remember always being compared to the Queen when he was younger, maybe because of his different wings. One phrase echoed in his mind: issicyxu il Sholo, sometimes issicyxu il Ctihi. He had never heard any other wolf call him that, only the wolves in the dark, cold cell. The brown wolf shivered, removing his thoughts.

"They called me like... I don't know... something like isc--issicy--issacyx, or something," the word was strange on his tongue.

Sholo tilted her head, one ear flat, confused. She contemplated the strange word, which she had never heard before, but decided to use it.

"How's Issac?" She asked.

"Issac..." the brown wolf whispered to himself, "I like it!" He wagged his tail happily.

Sholo wagged her tail back at him, and smiled. Issac glanced behind her, seeing if she brought anything with her to his room. She glanced behind herself, and stopped wagging her fluffy, white tail. Issac averted his stare to her wings. The Queen stretched them, and turned back to the young wolf. Issac looked back at his own wings, which he still didn't know how to use, and shook his head. There wasn't something right about them; they looked creepier than Sholo's.

"Flying will come naturally to you," Sholo assured.

Issac shrugged, and tried to stretch his wings, but they did not move.

Sholo sighed, "The real reason I came here was to take you hunting with me-- well, with Zorro's pack."

The brown wolf's chest swelled with multiple emotions: anticipation, fear, worry, curiousity. There was something nerve-racking about the situation, but Issac wasn't sure what; whatever it was, it made his hackles rise.