The Blizzard (Stories Etched in Snow)

Chapter Thirteen

Nix stared blankly at a tree, lost in her thoughts. Smog hadn't contacted for a long time and she wondered why. He was her littermate, after all, and she was concerned. Skull's sharp voice slapped her back into reality, "Alright, it's about time we found a good, permanent den to stay in, since this bush looks like it's ready to fall apart." Gradient, who had recovered after a day's rest, just like Val had predicted, nodded in agreement.

Vera elbowed Val sharply and hissed a few words into his ear, frowning uncomfortably. "Awww, but I wanted to stay here!" He groaned, a puppy-like pout appearing on his lips.

Vera seemed to painfully suppress an expression. "We wouldn't want to inconvenience them." 

"Oh! You two can stay with us, if you'd like. I've always wanted to start a pack." Skull smiled, nudging Nix. She dipped her head, "Definitely. You two would really, really welcome!" Vera's expression betrayed her anwer; she was about to decline. Val made puppy eyes at her.

The undersized arctic wolf sighed, "Sure, we'll come."

"Wow, that was quick." Skull chirped, blinking.

"I mean, he was looking at me so cutely. What was I supposed to do? Say no?" 

"Wow."

🐺 🐺 🐺

Nix's snout was tilted in the air, taking in the frosty forest scent wafting around the snow-covered pines. Her ears were strained and perked, in hopes of hearing birds that she could possibly snatch up for breakfast, since the elk had been consumed the previous morning.

A shrill whine echoed through the woods. Nix snapped her head towards the direction of the cry, pinpointing roughly where the source of the whinging was. She hurried towards the repeating sounds, which grew louder and louder. 

Nix concluded that the whimpering's origin was coming from a fairly large gap between the two largest roots underneath an old magnolia. She lowered her head and squeezed through the entrance, several roots protruding through the roof of the hole. The walls were carved out by wolven claws. 

In a mound of white, black and brown fur, four individual puppy figures could be made out. Upon closer inspection, three of the quadruplets were breathing. In fear of disturbing the ones who were alive, Nix padded out of the damp hole and howled to rally her companions up, indicating that she'd found a suitable den.

🐺 🐺 🐺

Vera almost seemed to warp across the room as soon as she noticed the poor bundles of fur. Their mother's body was soon found underneath her pile of pups, dead. Her frozen corpse was carried outside, and buried underneath the tree, in hopes that it was her tree, like the young cedar was Salamander's.

As Nix, Skull and Val removed the fine layer of dust blanketing the rust red, clay-like dirt that made the walls of the den, Vera lulled the three pups to sleep. Val's paws shuffled awkwardly against the moist ground, his movements uneven. Skull opened his mouth, but as Val found his footing, he looked away. The hazel timber wolf's eyes glittered. A hidden undertone dulled his gaze. Sadness? No. It wasn't anxiety, either. It was guilt.

Nix bit her tongue nervously, the tense atmosphere practically swirling around them, thick and dense. She shared a suspicious glance with Skull. Vera shot them an angry glare, "And if you think he's a traitor, then I'll label you as brain-dead." She hissed, her voice nearly inaudible, though it still somehow boiled with displeasure and disappointment.

"He promised me, once, that he'd never leave my side." 

A loud, unpleasant wail surfaced through the distrustful mood that hung around the room, like heavy strands of gossamer. The smallest of the pups began to caterwaul sadly. Vera dove her head down, licking it furiously.

Nix and Skull escaped with the excuse of hunting.

Note: When wolves die, they can choose from three things to do with the rest of their essence, which is basically their life energy. 1: Grow a new tree wherever they want. 2: Help an existing tree grow. 3: Let their energy just disappear into the atmosphere. In other words, do nothing with it. In this case, they're assuming that the mother used her essence to help the magnolia grow.