Firefly Glen Here where once was found.

Cygnet was glad to leave the babies behind. She had to admit- even if only to herself- that they weren’t as ugly now that they looked a bit less like pug-nosed tardigrades…But they were growing and quickly becoming more mobile and thus, more of a problem. She wondered how soon they could be put to work, and the moment they were old enough, Cygnet would be keen to send the children on pointless missions to other packs, like her own personal spam email.

She attended the pack hunt expecting a bit of bloodshed. She was hungry to put her weight against another her age, should sparring be an activity that was within reason. 

Keen to establish herself as a fearsome competitor, she’d smeared the blood of a weasel down each of her pale, rounded shoulders, and had wiped a red strip down the bridge of her muzzle. The blood dried, and made the fur stand out like quills; she liked it. 

She let the tips of her canines show as the Swiftcurrent wolves arrived amid the others, casting a sharp glance toward any other yearling bold enough to make eye contact with her.