Lamb

Big Day

Today was a big day.

Or so Elise thought.

For the first in, well, ever, the Silvermoon Pack was accepting a new member.

A vixen member.

The Silvermoon Pack consisted of black wolves (which she was), grey wolves (like their Alpha) and white wolves (like their Beta), all living in the (mostly) snow-cleared area they called their home. It was a pretty standard pack, one great big fire pit in the middle, dens around that, a spot next the the Alpha and Beta's noticeably larger den were the pack buried their food in the snow to store it. Standard stuff.

But the addition of a Vixen was anything but standard.

Word had spread quickly, and with reason too. As far as she (or anyone else) knew, this was the first time since the war that this kind of thing happened.

The war was, well, a war. It was between the Direwolves and their stealthy, but small numbered cousins. The Direfoxes were much more feral than Direwolves. They never communicated with humans and abandoned clothing no matter what form they used. Despite this, they hit us like a stone to the head: fast, sudden, and very painful. We didn't see them coming, thought we didn't stand a chance. It wasn't their fault this was happening, mind you. Us territorial wolves wanted everything to ourselves, and the foxes were just defending their way of life, their land.

Their home.

Most wolves look back upon the war with pride, singing merry tunes about the end of the foxes and the long rein of the powerful wolves.

Elise didn't.

After a long and hard fought war, the foxes, no matter how hard they fought, no matter how great their tactics and deception was, could no longer stand up against the huge, looming force that was the Direwolves.

Massive gorilla warfare slowly changed to small raids. Intelligence leaks and ambushes became much rarer.

The foxes were nearing a end, and they knew it.

It was only a matter of time.

And eventually, that time came.

Elise made her way to the clearing, wolves (human or Dire form) lounged in various stages of eating. Elise herself had chosen her Dire form, which was now laying with its head on its paws, soaking up the warmth of the fire.

She... never got along with the others. Don't get her wrong, she didn't hate them or anything. She just couldn't really... talk to people.

Or at least, not easily.

After a long day of pack duties and hunting, she was about ready to take a nice, long nap in her den.

She wondered if the vixen felt that way, too.