Citara

Citara: The Whisper of the Woods

It was the stillness after a storm when Volta, the golden-furred leader of her pack, discovered Citara. The sun had barely broken through the dissipating clouds, its golden rays filtering through the damp leaves, when Volta ventured out to inspect her territory. The scent of rain lingered in the air, and puddles glittered like scattered gems in the underbrush.

As Volta padded along a narrow deer trail, a peculiar sound reached her ears—a faint, melodic whimper, like the hum of a soft breeze through hollow trees. She followed the sound and came upon a hollow log nestled in the roots of an ancient oak. Inside, a small pup with a delicate frame and muted fur tones lay curled up, her eyes wide and unblinking as they met Volta's.

The pup's coat was a patchwork of gentle grays and earthy browns, as though the forest itself had woven her from shadows and light. She looked too frail to have wandered far, yet there was no trace of another wolf nearby. It was as if the woods had birthed her from the very storm that had passed.

Volta approached with caution, her golden fur catching the light as she lowered her head to the pup. The little one flinched at first but then slowly crawled toward Volta, her tiny paws leaving faint imprints in the damp earth. Volta nudged her gently, sensing a spark of resilience beneath her timid demeanor.

The pack was hesitant when Volta brought the pup home. Another mouth to feed meant more challenges, but Volta was firm. "The woods left her for us," she said, naming the pup Citara, meaning "whisper" in honor of the soft, mysterious cries that had led her there.

Citara grew under the pack's protection, her once-frail body transforming into a graceful figure. She was quiet by nature, preferring to observe rather than speak, but her silence was a strength. Citara had an uncanny ability to navigate the forest undetected, her muted fur blending perfectly with the shadows. She became the pack's scout, often slipping ahead to ensure the safety of her family, her presence as fleeting as a whisper on the wind.

Though she was not of Volta's blood, Citara held an unshakable bond with the golden leader, often walking by her side as the sun painted their coats in hues of dawn and dusk. To this day, Citara remains a living testament to the storms that shape us, her quiet strength and watchful nature a gift to the pack that became her home.