Hideaway Strath That perfect moment, the last tear you shed

As the weeks dragged on Atka had grown more adventurous, he would dart for the exit of the den whenever his parents turned their backs for even a second. Certainly, a pup who kept wolves on their toes. Today his latest escape plan included yet again slipping out into the early morning sun as soon as the mother beast was distracted. Of course, breakfast held much more importance. 

Now at 6 weeks of age Atka had begun to tussle with his brothers over food, biting and snapping with sharp baby teeth. If they ever tried to fight back though he'd roll onto his back and yelp in submission. All bark and no bite, as they say. Breakfast was finished and the mother beast turned to them, telling the boys something so exciting his curled tail did not stop wagging for a heartbeat, so fast it had become a stripped blur. "Pack! Pack!" He chirped, snapping at his tail as he began to chase it in dizzy circles. 

And then they were off, the beasts led them agonizingly slow towards some unknown destination. The white she-wolf was impossibly more radiant in the sunlight, the father beast loomed tall above them. Such fine parents he had, so strong and powerful. The rest of the pack must be fearsome to behold.

Atka's mother had begun to talk but the whelp was hardly listening, murky blue eyes scanning the world around with an awestruck gaze. Everything was so big. His little form jolted as Simmik called for the pack, slightly floppy ears pinned against his head. 

It seemed like forever until more scents arrived, drifting to him on the wind. As soon as he spotted the other pups he let out a huff of confusion, eyes flicking to his mother for reassurance.