Rise

Tonravik's first howl beckoned him, and Goldry trotted down the southern slopes toward the border. His heart thundered and adrenaline coursed through him. His fur stood on end. The warm morning sunlight banished the chill of night from his bones. He felt alive and strong; today he would tell it to the world.

Goldry stopped many meters from Tonravik as she cried out again. Her deep and bold voice tore through the clear, crystal air for miles. Triumphant and fierce, ancient and cunning, the mighty song of his Alpha bore into his heart.

Others joined her: many virile voices, some deep, some not, all weaving together in a powerful, mixed tapestry of sound. Another chimed in somewhere off the mountain, eager to be heard. And a familiar, feminine voice, as compelling as her cousin's, swiftly united with the rest.

Goldry lifted his muzzle then and howled in a rich, harmonic bass, dark and modulating, projected far and wide from deep inside his body. It surged beneath the others and carried Tonravik's message as all others did. Rise.