Hailstorm

Trial

Deep in her bones, Hailstorm knew that her time as a leader would be full of internal strife. Some of the elders hadn't agreed with Casper's decisions, on account of what had happened between her and Mountain that faithful night. Shade, Casper's faithful herbalist, had never truly looked Hailstorm in the eye, only at the scar on her neck with a mutter of bad omens to come.

Truth be told, when Hailstorm was young, she had ignored it. She had scoffed, had turned her back on superstition and bad omens. She had done everything: successfully transitioned with the moon's guidance, listened to the last leader, and cared for the pack so fiercely their neighbors had given them a wide berth. What right did Shade, or any other wolf for that matter, have to doubt her?

Then she had gotten older. With age she had tempered in her conceited nature and had accepted Shade's prickly guidance. She had even found herself a mate: Sturgeon, a fish-wolf whose twin Paddlefish flitted from pack to pack as a traveler. She was content, the pack was thriving, and she felt as though she had lived up to the legacy Casper had left her.

Then, Mooncast had Witching Hour.

That day, it had all changed. It felt as though the moon had turned Her back on the Pack of Silhouettes. Looking at Witching Hour, the eyes wide with madness and an inescapable intensity, Hailstorm finally understood the dread that Changelings wrought on Brognah's mind. Mooncast had merely watched the fae-pup with an unreadable expression, before saying,

"The moon's favor has begun to wane, hasn't it?"

Hailstorm had merely watched, holding her tongue, and wondering if this was what Shade had felt.

—

Witching Hour hadn't been the first odd wolf in the pack. Haunt, Wanderlust, who had saved Hailstorm's life, Masticophis, Sturgeon, and Paddlefish had been first. Haunt had not been Faeclu, but they had been fond of him. He had been able to see beyond and below. Wanderlust was strange for the way she held herself: alone and other, selfish in her consumption of knowledge. She was not mystical, but only hard to understand. Masticophis had been a regular wolf in all but appearance, with the tail of a snake that Spirit, her mother, had sworn was from the strange wolf that was her father. Paddlefish and Sturgeon may have been fish folk, but they were of a different pack.

Witching Hour had been different on a fundamental level: otherworldly and ethereal yet an omen in and of itself. However, despite any misgivings the pack may have had with her, they were not cruel wolves. Mooncast made sure to treat her no differently than any other pup, and when the time came, Witching Hour chose to stay with the pack instead of leave, like her litter mates had.

Life went on, and Hailstorm found herself wondering what Witching Hour's birth meant. After that fateful day, Hailstorm had communed with the moon—and She was not angry, only content. The moon told Hailstorm that there would be great change in her heir's time, yet did not specify what type of change.

Then, Puzzle was found, and Fen, Augur, and Hunger were born. That was when Hailstorm realized that the pack had not been cursed nor forsaken, but blessed by the moon. The moon, in Her eternal wisdom, had given them wolves suited for every land and every journey, so that the Pack of Silhouettes was stronger.