Wapun Meadow Prologue

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Goldry trotted up a small hill and peered out across the valley. The lush, green Wapun Meadow stretched out below him. In the distance, the silvery reflections of a little stream twisted through the tall fescue and white meadowsweet, and beyond that the lavender Sunspire Mountains beetled up into the clear, predawn sky. Aside from a flock of birds that wheeled overhead, there was no activity in the Meadow. He paced down the hill and headed south along an old deer path.

The scents of the meadow were different than the ones of his homeland. The musky odors of bear and bison were replaced by those of coyote and pronghorn. The familiar smells of his Beartooth family were likewise replaced by Ookaan wolves, many of whom left pungent and virile scents. Goldry discovered one particular smell about an hour ago that made his hair stand on end. He did not want trouble with a high-ranking and mature male.

Goldry tracked Alo's faint scent as questions about his new pack mates paraded through his head. He felt foolish for not asking them the night before when his new alpha accepted him. On principle, he stayed away from territories with even the slightest possibility of territorial men in their prime—men like himself; he came north to escape danger, not trade one kind of death for another.

The deer path skirted around a small gully drenched in purple shadow. In the distance, a copse of black cottonwoods loomed against the pale horizon. A great Ferruginous Hawk circled high above and frightened the flock of birds into hiding. Camouflaged against the prairie grass, Goldry traveled, ghost-like, toward the southern woods. To an inattentive observer, there was still no activity in the Meadow.

He reached the wood just before the sun winked behind the mountainous horizon. The shadows were thick and obscured his vision. But his nose told him what his eyes were unable to: Alo was not here. A great sigh escaped him, and his lips were pulled into a deep frown. His eyes flashed in the deepening darkness as he sauntered through the trees, quiet as a wraith, looking for any telltale sign of her whereabouts.

Nothing, though her scent lingered like expensive perfume.

He padded to the edge of the wood and peered out into the Meadow, which was now awash in silvery moonlight. The Ferruginous Hawk was gone, but a Great Grey Owl hooted in the trees behind him. The little Meadowlarks nested quietly now, sleeping with one eye open.

There was no activity in the meadow, still; little did he know, this is how the rest of his days in Ookaan would pass. Quiet, and lonely. Goldry would come to know his pack mates by their faded tracks and sharp, sweet scents; not by names or faces. And though he would grow attached to them, in his own way—even to the men that presently worried him—he would eventually learn to leave them behind.

Goldry clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. He stalked from the dark wood into the full light of the moon, striking north along the same deer path in search of Alo. In another day and half, he would find a small lake just outside Ookaan territory, where he would spend his remaining afternoons as a member of Ookaan in lazy, dejected solitude.

Where he would one day happen upon a black she-wolf, who would change the course of his life in the Park forever.