Wolf Saga: The Legacy

Chapter 1

   Frostfeather dug her claws into the soft loam of the forest floor. The biting wind beat her silvery-white fur, tossing her pelt as it pleased. Large mounds of snow were collected in clumps, and weather-beaten wolves struggled over, around, and through them. However, in the center of the howling storm, perched on a pile of frost-kissed boulders, a grey- brown wolf stood serenely, his head bowed. Strangely enough, the world inside was silent and calm, a sharp difference to the outside of the makeshift bubble of quietness. This wasn't any normal storm, however; this was caused by one wolf. Blizzardstar. Other wolves, with looks of determination stamped on their faces, hurtled over snowy clumps, dashed around trees, and fought to struggle into the protective bubble. Frostfeather was one of the first to make it. With a wet- sounding hiss, she popped through the shield to where the others stood panting, breath turning into misty clouds and slobber hardening into ice before it even left the wolves' mouths. Suddenly, with a loud crackle, the shield dispersed, the outline of it on the ground flaring a bright blue. The winds died down, and the snow slowly seeped into the ground to reveal the remaining wolves of the eight packs who were competing. Most wolves had made it; though a few who had realized the change in the weather sprang forward, only to see that they were locked out from the barrier- they had failed. Hanging their heads in shame, the defeated wolves loped back into the cold, silent, forest.

"So," growled the wolf on the boulders. "You all have made it. I am Blizzardstar. This is the final test you must achieve to have a chance to be admitted into the Wolf Guard." Murmurs began spreading quickly throughout the circle, but Blizzardstar silenced them with a ferocious bark. "Silence, you fools!" he snapped. "Even one whimper on these trails could bring an avalanche down onto your heads. You need sense, not carelessness for what you're about to endure." Every wolf had his attention on Blizzardstar now, all mutterings ceased. Frostfeather bared her teeth in anticipation. She knew what was coming, and was more than ready to face the challenge he spoke of.

"To be admitted into the Wolf Guard, you must run the Mountain Trail," continued Blizzardstar. "The wolf with the fastest time and the least amount of injuries has the highest chance, however, a select guard will be watching you every pawstep of the way. Elimination of other competitors is strictly against the rules, and we will disqualify you faster than a snowflake falls. Failure to rank in the top three will damage your chances, as no one beneath third place had ever won the competition."

At least thirty wolves bounded swiftly out from behind snowdrifts and the rockpile, assembling into a classic attack formation.

"As soon as I bark the signal, you will each be dismissed to the starting line of the Mountain Trail, where I and the Fleet Squad await you. Go!" he shouted, and all at once, the mass of wolves surged out from the circle toward the base of the Wolfback Mountains. Blizzardstar and the Fleet Squad leapt to their paws and, in a speed that could not seem possible, rushed in the direction of the mountains, easily slipping between the racing wolves and outstripping them with barely any effort.

"How are they able to do that?" panted Swanpelt, her glossy white coat flecked with ice. "I can't do that, and I'm one of the fastest of my pack!"

"No telling," grunted Frostfeather. "I've heard that once you join the Fleet Squad, you're not allowed to desert. There are some nasty punishments for leaking information. I guess that's how they keep their secrets." Swanpelt cocked her head thoughtfully, and the two wolves lapsed into silence as they approached the base of the Mountain Trail with the others. Blizzardstar was calmly standing next to the starting line.

"Line up, stop lagging," he ordered. The wolves tensed, claws dug into the rough gravel, ears perked, and eased into racing position. "On your marks, get set, go!" Blizzardstar leapt out of the way as the wolves surged past him, large amounts of snow flying out behind them, and leaving various pawprints in the snow. Smiling, the grey-brown wolf trotted away toward the end of the race, his gait so light that he appeared to have not broken the crust of the new snow.