Kira Ebony

The forest was silent, save for the crunch of dead leaves under Kira's paws. Her sleek black coat shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and her icy blue eyes pierced through the darkness as she prowled forward, tail held high.

"A pack," she muttered to herself, her sharp eyes catching faint movement in the distance. Her lips curled into a smirk. "I'll bet they'd be lucky to have me. Who wouldn't want a wolf like this?"

The scent of the pack was unmistakable, and as Kira emerged from the underbrush, she found herself face-to-face with a gathering of wolves. At their center stood a striking figure—a red and white she-wolf, her fur marked like flames. Her gaze was stern, her stance commanding. This was Ray, the alpha.

Ray's golden eyes locked onto Kira. "You're bold to approach uninvited," Ray said, her voice low and steady, with an edge of warning. "What do you want?"

Kira raised her head and sauntered closer, as if the alpha's warning was a mere breeze. "I'm here to join your pack," she declared with a self-assured flick of her tail. "Obviously, you could use someone like me."

One of the wolves near Ray let out a growl, but Ray silenced him with a flick of her ear. "Someone like you?" Ray echoed, her tone calm but sharp. "And who are you?"

"Kira," the black wolf replied, her voice dripping with pride. Kira let her words linger, letting her self-assured smirk spread. "The strongest, swiftest wolf you'll ever meet. My black coat and blue eyes are unmatched. Surely, you'd want me in your ranks."

Ray's golden gaze remained steady, unimpressed. "Strength and speed are valuable," she said, her voice like a low rumble of thunder. "But arrogance can be a weakness."

Kira's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. "Arrogance? No. Confidence. And you, Alpha, should recognize the difference." She paced in a slow circle, her glossy coat catching the moonlight. "I've survived on my own, something many of your wolves here probably couldn't do."

A chorus of growls erupted from the pack at the insult. Ray raised her head slightly, silencing them again with her authority. "You're mistaken if you think my wolves are weak," Ray replied evenly. "Each of them has earned their place here. If you want to join, you'll have to prove yourself. Bravado alone won't cut it."

Kira stopped her pacing and tilted her head. "Prove myself?" she repeated, feigning curiosity. "What? A hunt? A fight? I'm sure I'll pass whatever challenge you set."

Ray didn't move, her sharp gaze still fixed on Kira. "It's not just about skill. It's about loyalty and respect—things you seem unfamiliar with."

Kira snorted, her confidence unshaken. "Respect is earned, Alpha." Her emphasis on the title was deliberate, almost mocking. "Once I show you what I can do, you'll see I'm worth it."

A flicker of irritation crossed Ray's face, but it was gone in an instant. "Very well, Kira," she said, stepping forward, her massive frame dwarfing Kira's. "You'll prove yourself. A lone wolf is nothing without the pack. Let's see if you can fight for something other than yourself."

Ray turned to one of her wolves, a dark brown with piercing blue eyes with scars crisscrossing his flank. "Tussle, take her to the river. The herd has been restless. She'll join the hunt at dawn."

Tussle gave a sharp nod, stepping forward, his amber eyes glaring at Kira. "Try to keep up," he growled before turning away, heading toward the woods.

Kira stood her ground, her tail still high. "Piece of cake," she muttered, following after him.

Ray watched them go, her expression unreadable. One of her packmates, wishbone, a petite cream colored wolf, stepped closer. "Do you think she'll make it?"

Ray let out a soft huff, her gaze lingering on the shadows where Kira had disappeared. "We'll see," she said. "Every wolf has something to prove—even me. But Kira…" She paused, her voice lowering. "She'll either find her place, or she'll lose herself trying."

SECOND STORY:
Kira stood at the edge of the den, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the litter of four pups nestled against her belly. They were only a few weeks old, their small bodies wriggling and twitching as they slept or nursed. Kira's mind, however, was far from peaceful.

She had always prided herself on her independence, her strength, and her ability to control her destiny. But now, as a mother, she felt her patience fray. Raising pups wasn't as simple as she had imagined. It was constant—feeding, cleaning, protecting. And while the others in the pack looked on with adoration, Kira felt her irritation growing. She had no time for weakness, and already she could tell one of her pups would never be strong enough to contribute to the pack's survival.

She had known from the moment the pup had struggled to open its eyes, the smallest, the weakest of the four. It couldn't keep up with the others when they crawled for food, its cries louder and more desperate than the rest. Kira had been patient at first—she was a mother, after all. But now, as the days passed, she saw more and more that this pup was a burden.

The decision was not made lightly. It was not something she relished, but it was necessary. For the good of the pack. She could not allow weakness to linger in her bloodline.

Kira's cold, silver eyes flickered over the pups again. Two were already showing signs of strength—quick, alert, and able to follow her commands. The other was still a nuisance, an inconvenience. The weak one had no place in her world.

As the pack began to settle for the evening, the pups curled up beside her for warmth. Kira lay still, her body tense, every muscle coiled in a tight knot. Her breath came in soft, even rhythms as she fought the urge to act immediately.

The decision had been made long before now.

She waited until the others were distracted, until the pack's attention was elsewhere. The moment was fleeting, but it was all she needed.

Kira slowly, carefully, rose to her paws, her movements deliberate. She glanced over at the other wolves, ensuring no one was paying attention. The pack was around the fire, chatting softly amongst themselves, unaware of what she was about to do.

She approached the weakest pup, which had drifted slightly away from the rest, its body cold despite the warmth of the den. It was too weak to be of any use.

Without hesitation, Kira moved swiftly. She placed a paw over the pup's tiny body, her eyes glinting with finality. There was no room for sentiment, no space for regret. In that brief moment, the pup's feeble breaths slowed, its whimpers fading into silence.

Kira stood over it for a moment longer, a quiet breath escaping her lips. There was no remorse in her heart, only resolve. She had done what needed to be done. Her duty as a mother had not ended with nurturing. It had extended to ensuring her bloodline was strong—uncompromising.

Turning away from the body of the pup, Kira returned to the others, blending into the warmth and comfort of the pack. The other pups continued to nurse, unaware of the fate that had just befallen their sibling. Kira allowed herself a brief, cold glance at them. She would raise the others to be strong, to survive.

That was the only way.

And for Kira, that was the only way to ensure her place in the pack—and in the world.