King Elk Forest Everybody lies.

The forest beside Silver Creek was beautiful and never-ending. Sunspot had spent many hours traversing the Creek's hunting grounds, enticed by the scent of prey and the almost effervescent quality of the mist that was both hovering in the air and sifting down from between the trees. Sunspot, though usually adverse to being wet, had paid no mind to this mist as it found ways to cling to her pale, sun-burst pelt. Her sides were slimmer, now, the fur there now plastered to her flanks by moisture, while the thick fur on the back of her neck had down the opposite and now stood like the quills of a porcupine. If not for the happy sheen to her eyes and the lazy loll of her tongue, one might assume she bristled in anger.

But Sunspot was not angry - not even when the elk she'd been stalking was startled off by the ungodly call of another creature. The pale matron turned her head and then quirked it in confusion when she saw the call had come from another wolf. It seemed an odd thing to do, but - deciding that she was not irritated by the loss of her quarry - Sunspot decided to try it out herself, and let loose a loud, bellowing call to mimmick the other wolf's, rather than the elk's original cry.