Shadewood “Scratch my back, or I’ll snap your’s.”

Again, it was daytime. And again, Tzila found herself awake. How very inappropriate for a wolf named of the shadows themselves. She was either losing it, or falling out of her routine. Or both. 

Necessity had driven her out of the tight, makeshift den she had claimed in this deep stretch of forest. A sleepless morning had plagued her. All thanks to an incessant pang in her stomach. If she could just fill her gut and settle the jolts that were keeping her from finding peace, then all would be right again.

It was times like these, in the full clutches of winter, as a lone wolf, that she realized how hard life could be. But she would be damned if she gave up. She would not settle...would not sacrifice here freedom. She had been tied down once before by her family. She would never let it happen again.

Freshly disturbed snow lined with specks of bright red droplets of blood told a story. Of a struggle of survival. Of two lives, each with a common goal. But with only one victor. Under the cover of one of the many naked Oak trees, came the sickly sound of crunching bones. Pinned firmly under her paws was the half eaten, bloodied carcass of a fat snowshoe hare. It was little more than a snack, but thus far, a staple part of Tzila's diet. Licking her blood stained muzzle, now matching the crimson of her nape, she froze suddenly. Disturbed by something, her silver eyes flashed suspiciously, latching on to a flicker of red brown fur in the distance. She thought she'd been alone. This large male couldn't be Tusk...his coat was more vivid...and the scent was all wrong. Pinning her ears back, she released a low rumble to warn him of her presence.