King Elk Forest Raven-song

Autumn. 

Autumn came every year, a sweeping mess of oranges and red claiming the emerald greens of the setting; and no matter where he was Autumn was assured, for the seasons were as reliable as the stars at night. With a nose haunted by a million smells, Akai, a smallish white wolf with a silver tail and a mess of scars about his face, padded slowly and carefully through the new-lands with golden eyes ever-scanning the dim horizon. Soon it would be nightfall, and with it would come the skittering of prey against the decaying leaves at his feet.

To hunt in another's territory was always forbidden. Another assurance no matter where he went, but his lean and hungry frame bore no pity to the fat, fine-coated wolves that shimmered under the sunlight-- to them, what was one rabbit gone? In the winter, understandable, but they had claws to dig the rodents from their dens and teeth to snatch the fish from rivers… wolves were such selfish, arrogant and spiteful creatures, always thinking of themselves first. He knew this most of all… for he was the same.

With three black raven feathers tangled into his throat fur, Akai rose his head and pricked thick ears to listen to the call of bird-song rolling about the brush-- scrunched up his hind-legs and leapt nosielessly against the nearest dead tree with paws splayed against the surface. Wolves didn’t climb trees, well, this one did as the myriad of feathered creatures peered with beady eyes--

Perhaps the crows knew he would not hurt them… and that is why they stayed.

I don’t know where I am… He thought, resting against a leveled nook where a thick branch met the trunk, his ever steady gaze pointed North to where the smell of salt barely fringed the waning breeze… A place even I do not recognize… how far have I come this time?