Writing Contest! (ANNOUNCED WINNERS)

Better late than never, in true Maladi fashion; here's my entry! It is 1270 words total, according to Google Docs c: so here I present to you:

Revelations: The Persona of the Heart



"Alaina"

The young alpha's ears flicked up as the voice of her mate mixed with the crunching of snow to announce his arrival. Her tail flicked lazily as she stretched out across the rock she'd been basking in, rising to meet him and nuzzling his neck. He was stiff as a board. She pulled back and tilted her head, intently watching his downcast eyes. "What's wrong, Garrett?"

The pale wolf cleared his throat, his ears laid back against his head as he dared to meet her gaze for only a moment. "There's something you have to see."

Alaina's eyes lit up as Garrett turned and began walking back the direction he had come. "Have you finished scouting the woodlands?" she asked. What dark secrets had he uncovered?

"Not quite," Garrett sighed. He kept his head down and his tail tucked as he led her further and further into the darkening forest around them. The sun was rapidly setting behind them, leaving their eyes to adjust to the dark of night.

"The mountains?" Alaina's pace slowed as she noticed the looming presence of the great stone peaks breaking the sky above them. "What are we doing here?"

Garrett had stopped several places in front of his mate. The moon overhead flooded the clearing he'd led her to with a cold light. The night was still. Quiet.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Alaina drew closer to her mate as the twigs and pebbles around them rattled loose from the snow. Trees crashed in the distance, an ominous shadow drawing closer. Crows screeched overhead, seven flying away from the mountains. No, thirteen. "Garrett…" she whimpered, her fur raising on end as she pressed her body down into the snow.

Garrett's ears pricked forward as the vast shadow broke down the trees directly in front of them. A skull the size of his entire body met him as the creature leaned forward, the once sturdy trees groaning as they attempted to support its weight. Glowing sockets were fixed on him as he raised his tail and walked closer.

"What is it?" Alaina's voice wavered as badly as her legs did, her lead paws keeping her rooted to the spot as she frantically looked between her mate and the monstrous being before them.

Garrett sighed, though his eyes remained trained on the skull. "It's me." As he found the courage to face his mate, he lowered himself to his belly and crawled forward until he could lick her nose. "The real me."

"This isn't funny," she warned, baring her teeth to him as she backed away from the creature whose attention had turned to her.

"I'm not trying to be funny," he promised. He looked over his shoulder to the hulking, shadowy beast. A dusting of snow seemed to be all that could define the abyssal black fur that coated the rest of its emaciated body. "I have been watching your kind for as long as I can remember, hidden deep underneath the mountains. I was fascinated with your kind natures and the structures of your packs. I never had a family, but watching you wolves… I wanted one."

As he turned back to his mate, the fur relaxing along her spine lifted a weight off of his chest. "I was discovered one day by a lone she-wolf, her fur as dark as mine. She was startled, but she showed me the same kindness I had observed among your packs. She told me her pack had been slaughtered, and that she and her unborn litter were the only survivors. I took her into my cave and I made sure she was fed and comfortable, but my efforts were not enough.

"She gave birth to a single pup, who died before nightfall. I heard her crying, and saw an opportunity to end both of our sufferings. So without telling her, I transferred part of my soul into her pup: This body. She raised me with more love and care then I could ever imagine. Until she introduced me to you, at least." Chancing her wrath again, Garrett crawled forward until he could nuzzle into the fur along his mate's neck. "I didn't know what love was before meeting her. Meeting you, having pups of our own, it was an experience greater than I could have ever fathomed over my countless years observing your kind."

Alaina returned his nuzzle, pressing her head up against his throat with a quiet huff. "Well a bit of warning would have been nice," she grumbled as she looked to the curious creature her mate claimed to be himself. Her legs were still not as strong as she would have liked as she pushed herself to her paws and began to approach it. Approach him? The skull was so large it took up her entire field of view as she stood before it, forcing herself to meet the glowing sockets that stood for eyes. This was who she had fallen in love with so many seasons ago? His warm breath washed over her, carding through her fur to melt the clumps of snow clinging to her underbelly.

With a shaky breath, she pressed her nose to the icy bone and nuzzled against its hard surface. Her eyes remained tightly shut while a deafening groan shook the air around them. As the creature pulled away from her, Alaina stumbled forward, nearly falling muzzle first into the snow as it—he?—twisted and writhed, pulling down more of the trees around it. She whined and turned back to her mate, but Garrett had collapsed in the snow.

"Garrett!" she cried, rushing to his side and draping her body over his. She pressed her nose into his side, cold as the ice surrounding them and rigid as stone. "Garrett, you've gotta wake up … we've gotta go home."

"Alaina."

She twisted around towards the echoing sound of her name, still trying to keep her mate's body covered from the elements, only to meet the glowing sockets of the creature once more. It stood just above her, shrunken to her own size, an eerie grin across its exposed fangs. She shook to her core as it gently pressed against her side, urging her to warily move off of the body of her beloved mate.

"You have loved me for many seasons, and now have accepted me for my true identity. You, my dear, have made me whole."

Alaina stumbled back as the glow from the creature's sockets enveloped its entire form. While she wished to look away, her eyes were glued to the sight of creature and wolf melding into one being. It felt like an eternity passed as she waited for something, anything to tell her that her mate was still alive. She could hear two crows crying overhead, but she dared not to look away, lest he disappear altogether. Was that a flick of his ears? "Garrett?"

The pale wolf took a sharp breath as his icy eyes flew open, immediately finding the she-wolf that had saved him from an uncertain eternity. Before he could even think to speak, his muzzle was being coated with affectionate licks as Alaina laid beside him. "Alaina …"

"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again," the alpha warned with a stern glare.

"I don't think I could if I wanted to," Garrett chuckled as he carefully lifted himself to his paws.

"Regardless, don't get any bright ideas." With a roll of her eyes, Alaina pressed her side against his as she allowed him to lead their way back to their pack grounds. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The Pupsitter

Ty!

Deeper and deeper north the pair headed, guided by Arnou’s undisclosed instinct. Lovell’s paws ached. The snow had begun to feel the same as fire as they trotted on. He wanted desperately to rest, but Arnou’s nagging words would burn worse than the path ahead. Not that stopping was an option anyway.

The chase had never been a fast one, yet it was constant. If even for a day Lovell thought they had finally outpaced their pursuers, a reminder would pierce the peaceful atmosphere. A reminder that if they lingered for even a moment, death would follow. A loud crack out in the distance, like a whip urging them forward. Or smoke fogging the horizon behind them, urging their eyes forward. An ever present yet middling fear at their heels. His kin Lelou would have known the exact thing to say to ease his fears and licked that spot right behind his ear like they were still pups. She would always say something about how the pack was strong enough together, or how their four legs were so much faster compared to their stalker's two. That they were actually going to escape their pursuers. If Lelou was still with them, he might have believed her too.      

Lovell was brought back to the present by a sound, louder than any bird or beast, that echoed up the mountain. It was closer than any of the previous times. Nothing moved as far as Lovell could see, and not a breath followed.

“Unnatural, aren’t they?” Lovell broke the silence.

“As unnatural as they may seem, humans still are following the natural order,” Arnou answered curtly, not having bothered to even look towards the noise, though he had quickened his steps.

“Tsk, hardly. Why follow us all the way up here? Prey’s thinner than the air up here, not that they’ve left much prey for us in even better territories. And still they’re following us,” Lovell said, ears perked as he waited for the elder wolf’s reply.

“Not many of us left these days Lovell. We’re barely competition anymore. Perhaps they hope if they can catch us, they never have to hunt again,” Arnou said, his voice steady. Arnou’s eyes stayed trained to the unclear path uphill. “Perhaps… it’s the hunt to end all hunts.”

Lovell muzzle scrunched as his head dipped down as he huffed. “So… you’re saying they won’t give up no matter where we go? That we can’t even win. Almost makes this whole trip a tragic waste.”

“Hmmm… almost,” Arnou said, leaving Lovell with the familiar desire for being left with an elder who was a better conversationist. Like Boris! Old Boris had been a wonderful chatterer and an even better distraction from their hopeless situation. That wolf could talk on about anything, knowing a story tied behind the most inane mountain or shallow cave. Of course, he had also caused quite a bit of delays of traveling up this horrid mountain, and at the time Lovell’s feet had thanked him for it. Boris had felt such fear of continuing forward, though at the time the pack had teased his resistance being because of his short legs. Old Boris had spoken about the great monsters in the north, living amongst the ghost trees in a great ghost forest. They had been trapped in their big dead forests full of snow by an agreement that if no one ventures into their land, they wouldn’t venture out and eat all the bad little pups that wandered out of the dens in the dead of winter. Lovell wished Boris had still been with them, his reaction to seeing the barren trees that now surrounded them would have been priceless! Boris would have been talking a mile minute to make up for the shake in his stubby legs. He missed Boris. Even now, the fact that Boris’s legs weren’t quite as fast as Lelou had promised was still heavy Lovell’s chest.

It had been silent amongst the trees, the only sound the crunching of snow of eight aching wolf paws. Boring silence. Uncomfortable, strange silence. At least their pursuers hadn’t been blasting what few poor creatures might still be around. Though the stink of fire suggested they were attacking and felling the trees instead again. The slight sound of wind against the lifeless trees finally ended the eerie silence for a moment, though luckily Lovell didn’t feel the cold breeze through his fur. Arnou continued forward, his breath creating consistent misty clouds of effort.

The wind came again, an odd air that only had the rocks to noise against, probably because the dead trees had no leaves to rustle. Yet Lovell’s mind still wandered back to the ghost trees of Boris’s fears.

“Hey Arnou, remember Boris’s stories?” Lovell’s tongue lolled with excitement.

“Mmm.” Arnou barely let out a grunt in response, still not looking at Lovell. Probably the kindest thing, his question was a vague one.

“Remember the one about the beasts of this mountain?”

A low sound of wind through a cavern came again, Lovell almost thought it was another growl of Arnou’s. Maybe he should have brought up a happier story, like the cave full of trapped hares. Or the one full of she wolves, though Lovell never got to hear the end of that one.

“Of course, you remember. He never gave it a rest when we finally reached the north. The trees really do look haunted, just like he said they would,” Lovell said, though the periodic wind was the only response again. “He would have rolled over seeing it! I can just see his face. I don’t think any of us imagined that would be a drop of truth to anything he blabbered on about,” Lovell continued, though mainly to himself at this point.

“There’s more truth in most tales than the fantastical implies,” Arnou’s response came quick, causing Lovell’s fur to jump. The sigh of wind came again.

“Oh? Do bad and naughty pups really get eaten by wayward beasts?” Lovell said with humor, recovering from the jump, though the fur of his neck did not settle. An unspecified unease settled in his stomach.

“No,” Arnou said bluntly. Quiet took over again, only interrupted by the increasing murmur of the wind much to Lovell’s annoyance. The steady incline brought them out of the treeline, into a clearing. Lovell was speculating that they must be near the summit when Arnou’s voice made him jump again.

“Most pup stories are warnings. Beasts might take you away in the night if you venture out alone, but those beasts are foxes, coyotes, lynx, and badgers. But in this case,” Arnou huffed out in wobbly breath, “I say that because the story is true.” For a stiff second, silence reigned again, the only noise the sporadic wind whose warm air tickled Lovell’s nose with the scent of something decaying upwind.

Then Lovell laughed. A joke. Ancient Arnou had told a joke. The sudden explosion caused Arnou to halt, eyes wide. As the giggles simmered down, Lovell finally was able to gasp out, “Ah old man, I guess this mountain does have some magic. It put you in a good mood!” Lovell’s words were overwhelmed again with more giggles, though this time in part whoosh of warmth that rippled through his fur.

“Hmmm,” Arnou continued, though his even steps caused him to knock in to Lovell, finally breaking him from his fit. He stared at Arnou, and his unusual posture. The sensation of the warm rhythmic wind fully stilled Lovell, with Arnou stopping a few paces ahead.

“Lovell, did you just realize?” Arnou said, turning to his companion. Lovell’s jaw hung open, every hair on his body stuck up with the shock of his realization. His eyes glazed as he stared straight ahead, towards the glowing suns and falling trees. The rotted warm breath came again, though its billowing wind brought no joy.

“Arnou!” Lovell said, his voice harsh but restrained, as if refusing to truly shout would prevent the monster from further noticing them. The monster’s path was steady, as hindered by trees as they were by twigs. “Arnou, we have to…” Lovell’s words died as a whine in throat as his back legs gave out from under him. Arnou made no movement to flee. Trees crashed around them as the great beast leaned down, it’s stretching skeletal jaw as the air became unbreathable with the scent of decay. Lovell clenched his eyes shut, shaking, unable to breath, when CRACK! A gunshot rang out from down the hill. The rapid steps of the heavy beast towards the noise did not require Lovell to open his eyes to witness.

“Where is….” Lovell cried out shakily, still unable to fully compose his voice.

“Hmmm…  I suppose I was wrong,” Arnou’s voice didn’t betray his usual apathetic demeanor, but the way his shoulders slacked did. “I suppose there must be something tastier than bad pups out there.”

I literally found out about this contest this morning! I can't believe I didn't know sooner, aaaaaah! I whipped this up in-between family stuff. I hope y'all enjoy it, I had fun with it! It's 1,396 words.

No-Name

Granite was his name, but Granite was not what they called him. He was known as Grey-One, for his face, much like his namesake, sometimes sparkled in sunlight with flecks of silver and grey. He was ancient and wise, and no longer counted his age in moons or seasons, but years. His fur was not the true granite of the Yosemite Valley from where his sire came, but the much more stark mountains of the north.

Grey-One had few teeth left when I knew him as a pup, and he could no longer chew his own meat. But he was the great-grandsire and great-great-grandsire of much of the pack, so he was afforded much reverence and as much care as the most delicate newborn pup. Even as his strength faded and his body wasted away, his mind stayed sharp and his tongue cutting. No one wanted Grey-One angry at them, not even the adults. Even the youngest of Little-Ones would behave when he set his sights on them.

"You remind me of myself, Little-One" he once told me as a pup, with an amused glint in his steely blue eyes, "when I was young and far too headstrong for my own good. You will seek great things and be satisfied by little. I can not imagine the sort of name you will carry."

Grey-One watched us often as the other wolves had other duties to attend to, and he was the only member of the pack that could keep us out of too much trouble as pups. Before we were grown and had earned our names, we would sit around him as he told us stories. He told us stories of the Mountains-that-Breathed-Flame, the Earth-that-Danced, and the Endless-Lake. Grey-One had battled other wolves, cougars, enormous packs of coyotes, and bears. He had even faced off against the not-wolves he called "dogs". He had seen and fought much more than either my mother and father combined!

I myself had never seen a not-wolf besides a coyote, and I had even found coyotes unsettling, menace though they were. Their small, fragile bodies hid a cunning mind and vicious demeanor far more bloodthirsty than any wolf I'd known. When Grey-One would describe them to me, I would picture skinny wolves with the heads of snakes, foxes that turned into wolverines at night, and wicked grinning coyotes with the antlers of elk and moose.

When I was grown, I was sent out on a scouting mission. It was a coming-of-age rite in my pack, a sacred ceremony in which we earn our name - go forth, and find something to better both yourself and the pack. Some wolves brought back mighty kills, others brought back partners, friends, lovers. Others still would go out and come back with new or rare herbs or incredible stories that taught lessons. Others never came back at all.

When I set out and took my very first step on my journey, I swore that I would not return to my pack until I had found or done something truly great. I had already seen many things in my life or heard stories of them: storms so vast they ate the sky, dancing winds that spun and spun 'til they tore up the earth, and Grey-One's many tales of wonder, horror, and beauty.

I had seen many extraordinary things, but nothing I could bring back, nothing I could prove. Nothing that satisfied me. Nothing that would have made Grey-One, who had long since passed, proud of me. 

Until one day, I smelled a fear-scent sharp and fresh like a new bite wound. It hit me right as I had finished a hunt, placing the fresh hare carcass I'd been carrying into the tall grass behind me, and I made my way across the weakly sunlit meadow. Stricken with curiosity, I followed the fear-scent until it led me what I thought was a young wolf, cowering in the shadow of the trees and crying with his eyes closed.

He was not much older than I was. He had outgrown his puppy coat but still had the lankiness of an adolescent. It was not until I saw his strange white markings that I realized he was not a wolf, at least not fully. His scent was new and strange, but not frightening. Wherever he had come from was nowhere I had been, and I was curious. At the very least, he could lead me to new adventure, or, perhaps, I could lead him home with me. My tail wagged slowly in excitement.

I very nearly forgot about the fear-scent, but then the shadow of the trees ahead of me moved.

And I looked up.

I could feel a shadow slipping into my skin, chilling me to the bone, as a being loomed over me. Trees cracked and shattered, spraying wood into the air. It growled, low and long, as though thunder clouded its lungs.

It was not courage that moved me, but fear and awe; I stepped in front of the other wolf and leveled the creature with a stare. The wolf behind me stopped whining and instead breathed silently.

It stared back at me, unblinkingly. It did not move or breathe. For all I knew, it could've been a stone.

"What are you doing?" a voice behind me harshly whispered. "It will eat you, too!"

I did not blink even as my ears twitched, "What is it?" I asked.

"It has no name," the other wolf said. "We call it the Beast or nothing at all. I was sent here to slay it."

"You?" I woofed, "What could one wolf do about an enemy so great it has no name?"

Suddenly, the Beast lowered its head into the snow and breathed in deep and long. It did not break eye-contact with me. Whatever the other wolf was going to say died in his throat as the beast exhaled in a great gust of wind. One of its massive paws sank into the forest floor.

I did not step back, "You!" I said, addressing the Beast, "Speak your name."

The Beast's jaws opened wide, and its tongue whipped out from inside its maw. But still, it made no sound. It also made no move to leave the forest.

I could begin to smell my own fear, but I could feel that I soon as I began to back away, it would be upon us.

"Hear me, then!" I barked, "I will offer you a trade. My name for our lives. I have no name as I stand before you, but I have earned one. I will give it to you instead."

I waited.

The Beast waited.

The other wolf waited.

"You will be called Silent-One, and you will let us leave. I come from the line of the Grey-One, and I speak no lie. We have not harmed you, and you will not harm us, by my life and the pack's life." I stood stiffly, hackles up, and waited for a response.

Silent-One did not move at first, but then it slowly closed its jaws. The wildfire in its eyes quieted, and then it stepped back. Even as it moved its bulk back into the trees, it made no sound. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.

We waited in silence for a moment before the other wolf turned to me, "You didn't have to do that, you know," he said. "You could have let it get me, and you could've run."

"Perhaps," I said, "but that is hardly worthy of a name, though I have forfeited my name, I guess."

He bared his throat in a submissive gesture, "My name is Dark Sky, and I owe you a debt now. You saved my life."

"Dark Sky," I said, rolling the name around in my mouth, "you do not owe me anything, but I would appreciate a traveling partner back to my pack. You would be welcome to stay there with us, of course. You could help explain why I have no name."

"No-name," Dark Sky said, "that is no title I have ever heard before."

He brushed against me and I remembered what Grey-One had told me when I was a pup, that no name would ever satisfy me. In a way, he was right. The only name that I would ever carry would be... No-Name.

Thank you for this opportunity, Xylax <3
Best Holiday Wishes,

x

"Féithleann dies on the eve of the warm months. They find his body amongst the wilting grass, a creature’s arrow-tooth lodged deeply in between his ribs. His blood feeds the earth as it has always been destined to do one day. But too early. Much too early. 

When they return to him the next day, the blood remains, but the body has vanished."

WOLF FLESH, WOLFLESS can be read HERE.

Sliding in right before the deadline! I had this over 2,500 words but cut it down, it's now at 1,496. If anything seems funky it's because of the trimming. :)

Edit: read on google docs here.

Thank you for hosting this contest! Wolvden has a wonderfully creative community and it's impressive seeing all the writing skill everyone's flexing in this thread.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Winter had come early and harsh.
To the pack, it felt as if all the colour had been choked out of the world in a matter of days, smothered by heavy snow weeks earlier than expected. The forest stood noiseless and still, inhabitants scraping up what living they could.

They’d sent three scouts to find prey trails. A two-year-old, a four-year-old, and a six-year-old.

“We’re five days from the pack now.” said Melia, the lead. She was the smallest and most agile of the three, and her fur was dappled grey and brown like riverstones. “Days of tracking and nothing.”

“In the north we would follow the herds, track them all throughout the season, even when the winters were as sharp as this. But here, to find so little and so much ice this early…” replied Iwo, the largest. His fur was all greys, perfect for winter camouflage.

“Do not be so hasty to consider it a lost cause,” said Lim, trailing behind, her fur the colour of old muddy snow,
“I have seen something like this once before, when I was freshly grown. Bramble, the lead before Briar, would tell us how every tenth winter is cruel, and how it done by the will of the land to keep its subjects strong. We grow complacent without a challenge.”

“We’re going to starve if we don’t find a trail!” Melia snapped, “I bare my fangs at any ‘challenge’ that would starve us and kill all the pups. Not a single deer. Not one.”

“Look, above.” Iwo interrupted, “I’ve never seen the trees frozen like that, even in the furthest north where the ice is eternal. It’s only these thicker woods, the trees an hour ago weren’t like this.”

The group stopped and investigated the trees. The trunks seemed solid with ice and cold to touch. Not even Lim had heard of such a thing.

Their course took them further into the valley, downhill following a half-frozen stream. More and more trees seemed to be sheathed in ice.
All remained deathly still. The only movement they could hear was the creaking of branches, and the air itself felt muffled.

The further they descended, the less wintry and more dead the environment appeared. The trees began to look petrified. Every smaller plant was dry and brown.

At sun’s height they spotted a raven.
They followed it, hoping that it would lead them to a carcass. It brought them to an old rotting elk.
Melia and their corvid friend ate from it.

Together the four continued deeper into the valley.
The raven was never far from them, and usually ahead as if eager to go deeper. Melia followed it closely.

-*-

At dusk Melia abruptly stopped. She raised her hackles, retched, and launched after the raven as fast as her legs could carry her. She went at a speed that Lim would not be able to match for long.

Iwo and Lim ran after Melia. They could barely keep up.

After what felt like hours, Iwo was forced to slow down so that Lim did not fall behind. Melia and the raven continued tirelessly until out of sight.

Lim came up behind him out of breath. Iwo stopped and they rested together. They could catch Melia by scent if she got too far for their ears. The forest was deathly quiet and she would be obvious.

Iwo stopped and Lim came up behind him out of breath.
He looked around. The trees appeared to have been burnt and then frozen, covered in hoarfrost.

“It looks like a forest of skeletons.” he joked.

“I hope we have not stumbled into a spirit holt.” Lim muttered.

“A what?”

“Secluded groves where ancient spirits are said to sleep. It could be the reason for the the dead forest. We need to find Melia.”

-*-

They rushed ahead, following Melia’s trail. The sun had set when they found her.

She stood at the base of a broken hill, tugging at something in the slip of mud and rock and slush where the earth had collapsed.

“She’s—she’s eating out of Old Ice!” Iwo sputtered, turning to Lim, “It’s ice that’s never melted, it’s the bones of the earth. You never eat out of Old Ice. It holds strange things. Help me get her off!”

They pushed and shoved Melia but she was far heavier than she should’ve been. Immovable.
She got a piece of flesh off of the carcass and swallowed it.

The shadows deepened. Melia changed. She grew bigger than a bison. She became a spirit beast, darker than shadow, a skeletal monster.

It leapt away from them with a great gust of wind, blowing away some of the slush and dirt at the base of the hill.

Iwo cowered. He remembered the stories.
Lim stood firm and faced it. She was already six years old; if either of them must face the thing, better it be her.

The spirit-beast came to them through the trees, tearing them out at the root. They snapped like dry twigs. Its eyes glowed like a pair of moons.
Deep sorrow and grief flowed from the thing like a cloying stench.

It drew close.

“I bade your packmate eat my flesh so that I could speak to you through her. She shall be returned to you.”

Its voice came in their heads.

“Your flesh?” Lim asked.

It turned to the collapsed hill. Now revealed there were the bodies of at least five wolves, frozen in the Old Ice. They looked like no other carcass they’d ever seen. Old, crushed, and petrified.

“There lay the remains of my pack. We are part of the forest now. We are one.” it said, “I died many cycles ago, a number you cannot comprehend. I last drew breath when the great mammoth walked this valley. When the wolves were different. We died in a snowstorm with bellies full of sloth.”

“What do you want?” Lim asked.

“I have been at peace here for time unchanging, and now I am exposed. I am bare in the heat of the sun. I will rot away. And then who will wake the forest each spring? I summoned this cold to slow the rot, to save myself. I will lift it. But you must bury me.”

It drew closer until it had forced them toward the ancient wolves.

“Bury me like a morsel saved for later. I will release your Melia and freeze the soil. I will then release the forest. I long to return to sleep.”

It loomed over them. They had no choice.
They did the work as quickly as their paws and noses allowed. They dug until they were exhausted.

Finally, it was done. The oppressive sorrow lifted from the air.

“You have my eternal gratitude.” said the spirit, “The last thing I ask of you is that you remember me. I was here long before you and shall be long after you. My pack loved this valley for generations. Perhaps tell your pack of me, or visit once every few cycles. I shall watch over you so long as you are near.”

The unnatural darkness of the night closed in upon them and they saw nothing more.

-*-

Melia woke. The dawn was peeking above the mountains.
She lay in a glade next to a mess of mud and dirt and a frozen hill. Birds sang in the trees above, and tiny shoots of green grew from the branches. This area had been burnt through by a forest fire, it seemed.
All was soaking wet, as if it had snowed in the night and melted before morning.

Near her were Lim and Iwo, covered in mud and curled tightly into sleep balls. She nudged them awake and they seemed startled at first, but quickly got up to pepper her with questions.

They both asked her of some great spirit, of eating wolves, of sprinting after a raven. She thought that she must have been muttering in her sleep, for them to know what her dream had been like.
They insisted that it had happened, that they’d also seen it. She humoured them as they began the trek home, on a different route to continue the search for prey.

The more they insisted the more she believed that it’d been real. When, in her dream, the creature had given her its sight, she had seen flashes of memory. Vast plains. Walls of ice. Creatures she’d never seen before or known that she could imagine. Furred giants. Lions with manes. Oxen with horns like young trees. Perhaps those were the spirit’s memories. If it had been real.

They hadn’t gotten far up the valley slopes when she spotted a doe in the distance. It was time to hunt, and call for the pack, and hunt again so that all could eat.
They could dwell upon the strange story later, with their bellies full and their minds rested. The pack would not starve.

Pack

When we found the pup, it was late into our second lone year. We were doing as always when hungry and listening for hares before dawn, in that time when the cold bites at you and burns. The world seemed frozen and dead, until Dulca swiveled her ears back, her nose moving.

“Alvi, do you hear that?”

I shook myself and inched closer. Our shoulders met, my tawny to her silver and black. She was larger than I, but our sides still felt good together.

“I- What is it, I don’t-“

“Something...crying?”

I moved into the moonlight, sniffing. The frigid air left the inside of my nose numb to the skull. Confused, I turned to offer question with my tail, but she shot away into the shadows, and I was left to trail her lingering scent.

When I caught up, she was licking a small, fuzzy, something. It looked up at me, and I shrank back. Its eyes glowed, not with the dark-light of the animals I knew, but like twin moons. Yet it seemed real enough, whimpering and keening until Dulca licked it with more ferocity and hit it with her nose to calm it. The small thing then looked at her, and at me. It growled and pinned its ears as it crawled closer to her. I wasn’t sure it liked me. Hell, I wasn’t sure I liked it. Was it a puppy? It certainly was oddly-shaped and very large to be so young. Yet it had the proper ears and tail, claws as well. And it held hints of the right smell beneath something metallic. I could, perhaps, see what Dulca saw in it.

“Alvi, what do you think of this pup?”

I thought we should eat it. But if I told her such, she would likely eat me.

“It’s a bit...a bit different?”

I swished my tail gently. This was a pup? I walked up to sniff it. The pup-that-wasn’t growled at me again. 

“Give her some space!” Dulca said, baring her teeth, then licking the furry thing gently.

I suddenly had several questions. But I knew none of them would change matters when a wolf is protecting her pup. And that is what she now was, I guess. “Our” pup.

Dulca named her Koll, but in my mind, for the longest time, she was Notawolf. Still, we were now a pack. Koll did not know how to hunt or speak as we did. But she did make small noises that tugged at something inside Dulca. I could not tell her to leave this child where we found it. I doubt she would have listened anyway.

Winter chased and leapt for spring, and Koll grew. She learned to run as well as we, and how to hunt. Her mottled fur gained silvery banding and her tail lost its scrubbiness, flashing long and soft behind her. Dulca seemed proud of our pup. Koll was not like us, not completely, but she was ours, and even I saw she had skill. As the dark gave way to only light, our family raced across the tundra, and my mate did not mourn that summer.

Koll started to teach us things as well. Her front limbs ended in paws more mobile than ours. Paws that reminded me of the tall stalkers whose dens we often avoided. When she started to use her claws to scratch things into the mud and show us, I was frightened. But Dulca seemed intrigued, and tried the scratchings herself, though hers were more crude. Koll seemed to love them anyway, and squeaked at her, then licked us both, even if I only watched.

The next winter, as our tiny pack huddled together, Koll grew restless. She seemed upset, but could not articulate why. Dulca tried licking her ears, but she would not stay still. She watched the darkened sky and moved away from us. 

And soon the sky was filled with odd lights. Not the ribbons of sunflame that were the ghost packs hunting, but moving specks and at times a red burning. The tall stalkers and warm things became scarce, and we wondered what was happening, could not quite understand. But Koll knew, and one morning she was no longer there.

Dulca was frantic, so we sniffed about, and howled for her. Eventually we reached a boggy depression where dead black spruce and paper birch clustered, trunks sinking below snow into dark ice. Here, we found her scent, and were wagging our tails with excitement, when I looked up and growled. Eyes ringed us, watching from the darkness. They were eyes like Koll’s, but larger and getting closer. 

The beasts circled, closing gaps until there was nowhere their spindly arms could not reach. Dulca stood still, but I balked, afraid. I have always been the more cautious one, there is much in this world to be afraid of.

The creature before us smashed small trees in its its paws with a sound like the breaking of bones, then opened its mouth and keened. This was a sound I knew, Koll made it often in frustration. We didn’t respond, and then all was silent, but for clicking of claws on ice.

Dulca moved forward a pace, her right paw out, and she begin to scratch something in the snow. I recognized her work as some of the symbols from before.

The thing looked down, brow crinkling, then back at her. She sat, and then two things happened almost at once. The beast growled, and my hackles rose as I leapt to defend Dulca. But a smaller, darker, blur knocked me aside, standing over us. 

It was Koll, and she was screaming. We stood very still as she then started to make mouth-noises to the creature before us. The creature responded. I looked at our pup. This, this was her pack?

These sounds were not those of a wolf, but her body spoke to us still. She paced and growled, licking her muzzle in both submission and defiance. The ring listened, and then broke apart. The one before us turned, and Koll glanced at us to follow. Then, we made a traveling line and slipped through the broken trees under the moon. Smells changed around us, revealing we were no longer standing apart, an understanding of sorts had been reached. 

We continued in darkness as the moon sank, toward a growing brightness that was not the dawn, but a half-ring of small silver hills. These smelled like Koll and her pack. Their dens? Beside me Dulca flipped her head to one side as one of the dens leapt into the sky with an acrid smell and flew. But they had no wings? I was further confused.

And now you know the root of my doubts. It wasn’t that we didn’t love Koll, though at one time I’d struggled. It was that she clearly wasn’t a wolf, but now she also wasn’t the creatures before us. We’d condemned her to be neither, I think. Maybe if we’d left her as a pup, her pack would have found her sooner.

The den before us had an open slot in it and all the beasts glanced at us then loped inside, leaving our small family alone in the snow, choice quite clear.
Koll sat down, her eyes wide and ears up, tail fanning the snow. We looked at each other, and then I nudged her gently, Dulca following suit. We would be alone again, my mate and I, but Koll would have her family, and we wanted that for her.

Koll nipped at us.

“Come too,” she asked in her still-poor wolf speech, “pack come too.”

Looking back, our world was so much more narrow then, so it seems obvious that we would not at first understand. We tried to shove her forward with more insistent nose pushes, but she squealed and would not budge.

“She wants us too, Alvi,” Dulca finally admitted.  “We are her pack.”

“Pack,” Koll echoed.

I looked at my mate, she returned my glance. Our pup, recognizing we’d made the choice she wanted, shook herself off. And our pack as one stepped together into the gap, and beyond the bounds of anything our kind had ever known.

Word Count:  1,492

here is my entry! I finished at 1489 words, and it's based off of my own pack lore in which wolves who have committed great sin are brought to the swamp as punishment and trapped for the rest of their lives in the name of justice, and Karma is the one who keeps them there. I wrote the whole thing tonight so it's super rushed but overall I'd say I'm pretty happy with it :)

Moonlight

The forest was cold, the snow glittering like the stars above as it crunched under the paws of the two wolves. The branches of the surrounding trees were coated in a layer of ice, sounding like chimes as they danced in the frozen wind. 

Tonight was not a good night to be so far from the den. This deep into winter, the weather could shift at any moment, and a snowstorm would be disastrous. But it was the only night that would work, unless the wolves wished to wait for the moon to complete another cycle. 

That was what the stories said, right? That of all the old Spirits that had once ruled this world, this one was the trickiest to find? One of the elders had claimed that it could only be found on moonless nights, when it left its position in the sky to walk the earth until it returned to watch over the forest from above. 

Karva thought back to the rhyme the elders had taught her and her siblings as pups. “On moonless nights, the Spirit roams. Find a clearing far from home. Offer skulls and sun-bleached bones, and ask it what you wish to know,” she murmured out loud. 

Aila glanced over at her, speeding up in an attempt to match her pace. Karva felt a twinge of guilt seeing her sister struggling to keep up, but if they wished to do this, they had to travel quickly. Judging by the position of the bear constellation, the night was more than half over.

At last, they came to a large clearing, the slender trees forming a perfect circle around the two wolves. The world seemed black and white, nothing but snow and starlight interrupted by dark trees. Aila lowered her head and gently placed the skull she had carried here on the snowy ground. It was small, much smaller than her own head, but similar in structure. She gazed down at it, looking withdrawn, and Karva leaned in to comfort her. 

Out of the corner of her eye, the pattern of light and dark in the woods appeared to shift. Karva spun around, staring into the shadows where the movement had been, but there was nothing. And then— a quiet swish from her other side. She turned, just in time to see… something come into view. 

The creature was impossibly tall, and as skeletal as the trees around it, with a mane of long, dark fur. It had no eyes, no face at all, really. Just a skull for a head, though it was black instead of white. From within the eye sockets and between the ribs came a soft white glow, gentle and warm and almost welcoming. Slowly, it lowered its head, bending to half its height and wrapping long-fingered hands around the nearest two trees, bending them carefully out of the way.

Its jaw opened, revealing a mouth that glowed with the same strange light. “What knowledge do you seek, mortals?”

Karva could feel Aila trembling, her ears pinned back and her tail tucked. But Karva felt no fear. “You are the Spirit of death, yes?”

“Among other things,” the creature answered. Its voice was much quieter than one would expect for a being so large, barely above a whisper, yet the sound wrapped around Karva like the wind. “Some call me the Spirit of death. Others, the Spirit of the moon. I call myself Tenas.”

“Tenas,” Karva repeated to herself. She had not heard it before, and the name felt strange in her mouth. And yet, it seemed right, as though the universe had long ago decided that it was indeed the name of the being standing before her. 

Glancing at her sister, she remembered why they were here. “We need your help.” She considered her next words carefully. “Our pack is struggling. It has been a harsh winter, and Aila’s litter came at an unfortunate time. Only one was born alive, and even she did not last long.” Karva gestured to the skull on the ground. “Bring her back. Please.”

“I cannot.”

Karva’s hackles rose, and she took a step towards the Spirit, undaunted by its size. “How dare you?” she snarled. “You said yourself, you are the Spirit of death. You took my sister’s pups, you took her mate just days before that, you took so many wolves from our pack. Are you truly too cruel and uncaring to return this one life?”

The being had backed away as Karva had spoken, the furious wolf advancing with each accusation. Tenas bowed its head, and while its skull-like face showed no emotion, there was a sense of sorrow emanating from it. The light within it had dimmed slightly. “I cannot,” it repeated. “I am sorry.” Its voice was nearly too quiet to hear. 

“Why?” It was Aila who spoke this time, still trembling but now holding her head high, though her eyes were shining with grief. 

Tenas was silent for a moment, the sound of branches clattering in the breeze once again becoming audible. And then, it answered. “I do not control when a mortal dies,” it said. “I do not take lives, and I do not have the ability to return them. I simply guide them on the journey from your world to mine.” The being studied the tiny skull. “If I controlled death, I would not take lives this young. They are too attached to the things they leave behind. It is very difficult to guide them. They usually refuse to follow. They try to wait for their mothers.”

Aila too stared at the skull of her daughter, before looking up to meet the Spirit’s eyes. “Is that so terrible? That a pup might choose to stay in this world longer, even after death?”

Tenas returned her gaze. “The dead cannot interact with the living. While they stay in this world, they are alone. But from the stars, they can watch over their loved ones.” It turned its head skyward. “Do you never wonder why the stars are so comforting? Do you never stop to think about why it is that the ones you have loved appear in your dreams? The dead become the stars. Though they are always there, their presence is stronger at night, with the moonlight, my light, helping their own light reach your world.” The Spirit’s jaw opened in some imitation of a smile. “That is what makes my job so important.”

The being’s words put the two wolves at ease, their posture becoming more relaxed. It was strange, that such a horrific-looking creature could be anything but a monster. But its presence was almost soothing, and Karva was inexplicably reminded of the feeling of entering a cozy den after a day spent out in the snow. Tenas radiated a feeling of comfort, of warmth and familiarity. 

Aila seemed to feel the same, no longer trembling. “You say that you guide the dead,” she said. “If my daughter cannot come back to me, then perhaps you are right. She should go with you.”

Tenas crouched down further, its front limbs bending to allow its head to rest on the ground, the end of its bony snout nearly touching the skull. It looked even tinier next to the enormous creature. The Spirit exhaled, its breath visible in the cold air as it enveloped the skull. As the cloud of breath disappeared, a faint glow could be seen. A white spark of light, no bigger than a firefly, now hovered just above the pup’s skull. 

The two wolves stared in awe as the flickering spark slowly drifted closer to Tenas, stopping next to its left eye socket. The Spirit once again smiled, its jaw creaking open to reveal a row of pointed white teeth. Ever so slowly, it raised its head from the forest floor, the spark rising with it. 

“I do not normally guide the dead when I am in this form,” Tenas said to the wolves below. “That duty is reserved for when I am back in my true form, when I have all of my light to lead them.” It paused for a moment, considering. “I will make an exception for this one. She can travel with me until I return to the sky.”

It began walking away, slow, silent steps carrying it back into the trees. Karva watched, but it disappeared quickly, becoming one with the pale snow and dark branches. She and Aila waited, huddled together for warmth, but there was not another whisper of its presence. It was time to return home. 

The next night, as Aila tipped her head skyward to howl to her nearby family, something caught her eye. The moon was back in the sky, just a sliver, and a new star had appeared next to it. 

 Bu’ha smelled the presence of other wolves. Two pups, tired from play, were passed out in her way. Bu’ha nosed the closest pup and frowned. They were freezing in the cold autumn wind! Angrily she looked around for adults before. realising the pups hadn’t moved an inch.

An icy feeling went down her spine. Could they be…?

“What are you doing?!” Her though was interrupted by the bark of a middle aged female. “Get away from my nephews!”

“They’re… alive?”

“What a rude unobservant yearling, my sisters twins are just sleeping. They happen to have been born with gifts that make them tired.”

Bu’ha took another look, feeling foolish as she saw that both pups were breathing deeply. How could she be so stupid? The two wolves were joined at the hip. every healer knew that unusual puppies like that were often colder than normal wolves. It was their connection to dead things that made them that way. That same connection meant that they didn’t live long. Not a great first impression.

“I’m so terribly sorry, your healer and their parents must be amazing at caring for them. Your nephews seem very happy and healthy.”

“Of course, our healer’s the best in the valley!” (Old wolf haughty body lang) Cunning glint in her eye. “In fact, you should go and see her, perhaps you might learn a thing or two about etiquette.”

“Oh! I would love to, I’m planning to be a healer.” Bu’ha wagged her tail, happy to have found an excuse to leave. Meeting the medicine wolf would be a bonus to her learning too.

----

Bu’ha took a deep breath as she picked her way delicately through puddles and sharp rocks at her feet. It was slow going, but it gave her time to think about her manners at least.

The air was getting colder, but through the damp and moss, she could smell that the healer was close. Herbs and poultices had a distinct leafy smell, that seemed almost almost bitter to her, and she could recognise that from a mile away.

She put her nose to the floor, hoping to pick up a scent, but all she could smell were puddles and an odd metallic tang that made her gag. Probably some medicine, not that it made the stench bearable. Maybe there would be a path on the cliff somewhere? Bu’ha stepped forward and nosed at the sodden, trailing vines. The revolting scent wass stronger here, but so was a much sweeter smell of dried flowers, that seemed to be carried on a breeze blowinf out of the rock itself. Of course, the medicine wolf must have a den hidden behind the plants. Hpow clever, she thought, to keep any sick wolves where they would be undisturbed. Good for recovery. Now if only she could remember what the healer’s name was…

“Hello?” she whined, “Is a wolf name Huth here? Your aunt Auru sent me.”

A nose suddenly touched her own, causing her to jump at least 10 feet into the air in surprise.

“A visitor!” said the greying muzzle poking out from behind the curtain of greenery, “I never get visitors, come in!” Just as quickly as the nose had appeared, it vanished again, back into whatever cave or crevice it’s owner lived in.

“Do… Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bu’ha asked, both curious and confused.

“Of course not! It’ll be obvious enough when you get in here, hurry up!”

The yearling laughed, vit seemed like learning from this wolf might be fun. Thank goodness this pack’s healer wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of them. She pushed her way eagerly into the cave, taking in her surropundings as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. An elderly wolf with large patches of fur missing here and there, greeted her with a wagging tail.

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious if you were wondering,” The wolf sized her up, despite her warm smile “ As we get older, healing comes much slower.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean….” This wolf, Huth, was clearly old enough to be envious of the yearling’s youth, but she sounded friendly, and all those years of wisdom would be fascinating to hear about. Bu’ha fluffed out her fur, not wanting to appear judgemental. Old wolves aren’t dead wolves, she thought to herself, though, she didn’t really believe it looking at Huth.

“You look half-starved. Did my cranky relatives bother to feed you?”

“No, but I-“

The older wolf cut her off by shoving a chunk off meat under her nose.

“Eat up!” She said cheerfully, not pausing for a response.

“… Thank you.” Bu’ha sighed, knowing she couldn’t refuse the hospitality of a shared meal, and whispered a quick apology to the unidentified creature she was eating.

“Custom of your pack?” Huth enquired. The elder was sharp, she hadn’t missed bu’ha’s quirk. Should she lie? “No, you seem touchy about it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. Spirits aren’t just superstition, you know.”

“Oh?”

“I can show you, after your meal. Spirits make the herbs more potent, full of nutrition. Good for growing wolves.” The elder gave her a kind, almost pitying look.

Both wolves padded softly over snow. Mist rose from the surroundings, but Huth had told Buha this was the magic of the place. Tall, slender trees were silhouted against the evening light, in an eerily beautiful way. Bu’ha was enjoying herself, she had already learned a few things, and the air was cool and pleasant to her nose.

“How do you feel?” Huth asked softly.

“hm? Cold, mostly.”

“Good… Good. Tell me when you can see it.”

The young wolf tilted her head, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the trees seemed to be swaying in time with her breath, each exhale blowing condensation into the still air. The ground was breathing with her, glistening dewdrops shinig with life.

“do… You mean… spirits?” For some reason her words were slow to reach her mouth. Each step was becoming harder, and yet Huth seemed unaffected by the energy of the forest.

“Shh, shh, you tell me when you see. Tell me what it says.”

“Huuuth…?” Bu’ha felt nauseous, her blood rushed in her ears. Everything felt darker than before. The tree (… were they trees?) moved with greater intensity, with purpose. “What…?”

Black blood dripped down blacker bark, each tree a twisted limb that uprooted itself to crash forwards towards her. Moss melted and bubbled underfoot. Howls of air almost knocked her down as she cowered before a mighty beast. Ragged breaths, bright dead eyes, it’s ribcage heaved as hers did, sucking the air from her lungs and forcing it back down her throat with no care for her mortal whims. Each brought a wave of sickness, each brought a tide of death. Small critters curled up and died before her, plants withered and rotted to nothing. All consumed by the black, black blood.

That corpse-like, canine face, An emaciated grimace that pulsated with an air of indifference. Urine soaked into her tucked tail. The slender spirit did not care.

“Tell me what it says!” Her vision was blocked as Huth let out a ragged screech. “I need to know what to do!”

Bu’ha stared up in fear at the mess of flesh that was the older wolf. Every inch of Huths muzzle throbbed with yellow open pustules, bubbling like molten fat, barely clinging to her rotting bones. Her jaw hung loosely, teeth gnashing at nothing as strangled sounds of desperation left her throat. Her eyes were no more, instead her sockets poured forth black sticky liquid that fell down her cheeks and hit the ground with a sickening squelch. Her cries were getting louder. Her head was twitching violently. One paw held Bu’ha pinned to the ground. Her empty sockets remained focused on the yearling.

Not to be ignored, nor constrained by the mere laws of physics, the tall twisted sprit passed through the medicine wolf, it’s head almost comically small compared to it’s sinewy neck. Both owf and spirit blended into one as a strange sense of calm overtook Bu’ha. How idiotic she had been. Death was inevitable. Death did not care. Death was not…

Her vision faded into nothingness.

Pitiful.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Huth kicked her back legs with each thought. What a waste of time. The twisted corpse behind her had showed such promise, and yet…

“Too much mountain toad?.” She pondered. What a moron. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the approaching winter, she wouldn’t have messed things up for the twins. Might even have cured them before the snow drifts got too deep.

The old wolf’s muscles ached as she bitterly kicked a clump of large icy earth at the yearling.

“Help…” A soft whine from behind her, had she imagined it? She turned sharpy towards the ‘corpse’. There. Shallow breaths despite the lifeless eyes.

“Perfect!”

Perhaps she wasn’t so useless after all.