Emberflame Ridge schneemusik

for @Mali

he caught the lamed sheep upon the ridge, dispatching it after a quick run and heavy snap of his ironwrought jaws. it had cost him a day of tracking; the wintercold skies had begun to darken as evening fell. yet it was well-worth the journey that mahler had made from diaspora, for he would fill his belly and carry back all he was able to his packmates.
he looked toward elysium pensively; the last time he had been there, a boy had shouted and showed no respect to his leaders. mahler thought of the maplewood, how the pack had weakened and finally fallen. they had taken into their fold the losing wolves, and he could not respect their weakness, both in that regard and how they had allowed the child to act so.
but the faces of the sea-wolf and her sable counterpart came to mind — as he fell to eating, he wondered if they would survive the stretch of winter to come.