Naylan, an Alpha by birth, has always dreamed of running a pack of his own. Born into the busy city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, where city wolves run in small groups, and disregard communal living, Naylan had to pursue his dreams elsewhere - Toronto, a...
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MAVIS
The next week was quiet. I did what I usually did. I hunted, tended to the garden with my mother, and helped both mother and grandfather with their needs. I didn't see Naylan when I patrolled the clearing. I saw other wolves from his pack, but never him.
Not here again. I thought to myself, frowning a bit as a little growl left my lips. Why is that making me mad? I asked myself, getting down from the tree before dusting my trousers. It was noon on a Wednesday, and some wolves from Naylan's pack had just left the clearing after hurling some supplies into one of the cabins. I had watched out for Naylan, but he had been nowhere in sight, instead, one of his second in command wolves had been the one to give out the instructions and sort the disputes.
Is he avoiding me? I wondered, looking up ahead into the woods. I shook my head, getting rid of the thought. I had told him that we shouldn't see each other much. I had been the one to establish a line. Why was I getting mad at him for doing what I asked?
It didn't make any sense, so I blamed it on my wolf. I wasn't going to take responsibility for moping over some youth five years younger than me. The walk back home wasn't too much of a hassle. Years of walking through the same path had created a clearing. Not visible at first, but noticeable once you embarked on the walk. My family wasn't the only coyote family in the woods. There were at least six others, but we kept our distance even though we shared paths and hunting grounds. When the woods started to fade away to give way to the sparsely vegetated lands, I knew the cabin we lived in wasn't far away.
A smile made its way to my lips when I noticed the wooden structure in the distance. On the patio sat my grandfather. He was on his rocking chair and he had a reed balanced between his thin lips. I made my way to the stairs and climbed up before pausing in front of my grandfather.
There weren't any rabbits in the traps today," I said, watching as he looked up ahead. My grandfather looked a lot like my grandmother with tanned skin, high cheekbones, and small thin eyes.
"Okay, thank you for checking anyway," he said after a while. I wondered if he took his time to reply to me because he had to think up an answer, or if it was because he was old had delayed muscle and brain functions.
