Autumn

Autumn had been born into a world of shadows. Even before she understood what sight was supposed to be, she had known that something about her was different. The world was a mixture of sounds, scents, and warmth—but never light. While her siblings had opened their eyes to see the world in all its vibrant detail, hers remained clouded, a dull grayish hue that never sharpened into clarity.

Her mother had been kind, but distant. It wasn't cruelty—just the harsh reality of a pack that valued strength and survival above all else. A blind pup was a burden, and though she was never outright cast aside, she felt it in the way the others treated her. Pity, frustration, impatience. She could never keep up with her littermates, could never chase them through the undergrowth or pounce on shadows that she couldn't see.

As the days passed, the whispers grew. She won't survive. She'll only slow us down. Maybe it would be kinder to let nature take its course.

She didn't understand it fully, not at first. She only knew that when she called for her mother one night, no one came. When she woke up, the warmth of her siblings was gone, the familiar scent of her pack fading into the wind.

She was alone.

For a full day, she stayed in the same place, waiting, crying, hoping they would return. They never did. Eventually, hunger drove her forward, forcing her to stumble through unfamiliar terrain. She tripped over roots, bumped into trees, got tangled in brambles, but she kept going. She learned quickly—listening to the rustling of leaves, feeling the softness of the ground beneath her paws, following the scent of water when thirst became unbearable. She survived, not because she was strong, but because she refused to give up.

When she encountered Haru's pack, she had been wandering for days, weak with hunger and exhaustion but still determined to keep moving. She heard them before they saw her—multiple pawsteps, hushed voices, the sound of wolves who belonged somewhere.

She expected growls, maybe even the cold indifference she had received from her birth pack. But instead, there was warmth. Momo's voice was the first to reach her, gentle but firm, asking her name, where she had come from. A large presence—Haru, she would later learn—stepped closer, and she tensed, expecting rejection. Instead, he only said, "You've made it this far on your own. You don't have to anymore."

For the first time in her life, Autumn had been given a choice.

She chose to stay.