Moonspear A New Way of Life

     It had been a year since Arren had left his human friend... Two years without contact from another of his species. He did not spite his human though, without her he would have died. If not because of his mothers neglect, then by the very pigment of his skin. It was a curse that should never befall an arctic wolf. His fur color forced him have several months of struggle, not to mention also forcing him to stay more than a year with his human. But he was insecure if that was necessarily a bad thing, since he was unaware of his siblings status after they parted ways. He believed the only reason the human had kept him was because he was the contrasting pup of the litter.

     Who knew? Humans were as fickle and strange to him as ever, even after spending a year with one. Ever since the huntress chose him, he was alone. Alone to fend for himself and survive in the wild. It had honed his skills as an independent hunter but his species worked as a group. He could feel some pack out there calling to him. Every night of his life he felt a pang of anxiety, of uncertainty, if he would ever make it out there to a pack that would accept him. To his luck about three days ago he had arrived to an area completely dominated by wolves. 

     He could smell each packs territory, many were scattered throughout the landscape. Now he was heading for the closest peak. To him it seemed that the lower ground he was on would warm quite a bit in the summer, and his thick arctic coat would not do him well, so he decided to head for a colder setting. One where he could chose the climate he wanted. He found one, one that stood out from the landscape as a spire in the night. The little sister to a larger peak he could see further away. He estimated that he would be moving up and down the mountain several times a year in order to have comfortable climate. 

     One thing he was hesitant about was the temperature change the difference in elevation might bring. There was only one way to find out, to see for himself. Arren stuck out his nose and felt a gust of wind that marked a territory bound for one of the packs. In his excitement he began sprinting towards the mark. Two years of waiting were finally over! He would have his pack! He dodged around trees, rocks, and other obstacles at incredible speeds. His chest puffed in and out with every breath, plumes of vapor rose from his maw.

    He couldn't contain himself, he got to the mark, skidded to a stop, and gave a long, deep, howl. One that was an impetus to everything in the forest, making prey scatter about, and making wolves plan their approach to it. His bones ached for some other presence. He hurriedly sniffed out the trails and followed the most recent. His body completely blending in with the forest, all that could be seen were his eyes, his teeth, and the small clouds that rose with every exhale he gave. He was a phantom in the night. This is where he belonged!