Feral Blood

Mother Wolf

Above is a picture of what I imagine is what Mother Wolf's wolf looks like.

I knew from the time my brothers and I suckled upon our mother's teats in our den, that we were different. Different from even our mother. 

My brothers' smelt had more pungent scent to their fur, something more animalistic in their essence. My mother had soothed us in her den with soft licks and gentle nips, and for weeks we knew peace. 

When the snouts of other wolves began peaking their heads into her den, they're soft, fleshy noses were met with the sharp fangs of our mother wolf, warning them to stay away. The noses became more frequent until a day came when the squeals of the intruding wolves reached our ears and the animalistic scent grew even more pungent. 

A new head poked through the entrance, and as usual, my brothers and I retreated to our mother's side. But this wolf was different, he was a welcomed wolf for my mother. His head was dark, the sides slightly grey. His yellow eyes appraised us in the dim light of the den, roaming over my brothers and me. He held something smelly in his maw; it was a pleasant odor that stunk the den. Squeezing further into the den, he dropped the stinky object on the floor. 

Instinctively I rushed for it, bowling over my brothers and shoving my nose into it. I began nipping at the long strange tendrils attached to it. They were like fur, yet they weren't fur. Suddenly a heavy snout bowled us away from the smelly thing and we rolled across the den as our mother gripped the thing and tucked it close to her chest. We bounded back over as she began to rip open the interesting thing the wolf dropped into our den. 

We shoved our faces against the carcass and began to chew parts of it off. A delicious taste filled my mouth; better than dirt, and more tasteful than Mother Wolf's milk. Instinctively I tried to gulp some of it down; but it was tough and hard to chew, so I spat some of it out. 

We watched our mother feast on the carcass, and the dark wolf's head retreated from the den entrance. Eventually she turned to us and began to hack. A piece of the tasty thing fell onto the floor, and I rushed to it, pushing my brothers away and stealing the morsel. 

This was our first taste of meat. 

The weeks passed, and eventually Mother Wolf took us from the den. We were greeted at first, only by Black Wolf, who individually sniffed the three of us before he padded away and laid down. 

Soon other wolves came, and familiar snouts invaded our faces and our rears. We squirmed away and stayed near Mother Wolf, who shooed the wolves away with her fangs when they became too pushy. 

The smallest of the new wolves were the most fun, as they romped around with us and nipped at us. We chased after them on stubby legs, our sharp fangs rarely finding purchase on their flesh. After a while of chase and greetings, Mother Wolf nosed us back into the den, much to the protest of the other wolves. Black Wolf shooed any stragglers away from the den with fierce snarls and posturing. The other wolves seemed to give Black Wolf distance, and did not wander over to sniff him like they did us.