Named for the water-colored stones that form from the finest of all volcanic grains.

The Dawn of his Days.

Slate was born into a small litter, but one that was beloved by their parents.
His puphood and adolescence was blessed with plenty of food in his mouth, play with his loved ones, and protection from all true danger.

Born in deep frozen forests where the pickings could be slim, and the wind could whip through any fur coat, it was his parents considerable effort and skill kept him and his littermates from the reality of how painful that frozen wasteland could be.

They told stories of hunger so deep it gnawed at their own bones, legs aching under the incredible weight of an empty stomach, guarded by protruding ribs under thinning fur.

Stories of thirst so desperate a frost-covered face dug further into the frozen white ground. Only to find even colder bites of painful crunching snow, that barely melted enough to sate it.

Tales of bones blistered by ice, empty of marrow, that were the only thing found to eat for days before, and for days after.

But the deepest, most impactful stories were the ones they didn't truly tell. Pains of loss when innocent questions about their littermates, parents, aunts, uncles, their family, received sad smiles and soft nuzzles.

"They were here once, but that was some time ago. I wish you could have met them, they would have loved you as much as we do."

Spring turns to Summer.

His journeys in the north lead him into the summer of his life as a young adult, where he befriended a raven from his frost-covered home who he shared his meals with.

Restless energy swirled around in Slate's mind from his birth. His parents saw it in his eyes, a desire to follow the lights in the sky and bring himself to new places and new faces.

When the day came for him to leave, he spent the morning greeting and grooming his family for the last time, before by midday he set out into the horizon and hoped to hear familiar wingbeats in the air above him.

The days drowned onward, the tundra giving way into craggy lowlands, that soon filled with grass and small flowers as the cool air of the mountains receded into the distance, and his howls were met with familiar raven cries, as he's joined by his friend from a far-away home.

Summer goes steadily onward.

Slate became the Fleetstep pack's leader when he and his raven companion, who he seems to only refer to as "Friend", met Fringe. She was alone, wandering and exploring new areas when they came across eachother.