Redtail Rise red

Riley found himself at the border's outermost ring when a distant call rung out. He turned and headed for the Rise's other edge at a loose limbed trot.

Better to conserve his energy, he thought. The elk's rutting season was coming to a close, which mean the time of the wolf was high to cut down any stragglers wounded by the season's rigors.

Riley was not prepared for the scene that met him. Snow was churned underfoot, darkened by the splatter of mud and blood. While most of the pack was milling around an elk in its death throes, Riley's eyes were drawn to the chilling sight on the ground.

Avicus. Her head was propped by a bloodied Masque, while a mudstreaked Ashlar and dark-expressioned Mulherin packed mud to her throat. Blood pulsed into the snow, darkening under each of their paws.

Riley had seen enough of the world to know death when he saw it. He took a step back, ears flat to his skull and tail low. That they'd killed an elk was little comfort, for it came at an ultimate cost.

He nosed Masque's blood-stained shoulder gently before stepping back again. All the tension had left Avicus' frame - now the only sign of life to her was the flame she carried in her pelt.

She died, so that the pack may live another day with warm blood and rich meat in their bellies. This was the way of the wolf, the way of the wild.

With a deep gulp of air, Riley turned his nose to the sky, a jagged howl sounding its keening notes to the clouds above.