Firefly Glen When Doves Cry

Without either of his parents nearby, Katmai could only guess at how old he was. He imagined a year must now have passed, as they were leaving behind the true cubbing season and climbing on toward autumn. He could only vaguely recall what that felt like — which made it seem ever more likely he'd been very young.

But, in truth, there were many things he could not clearly recall. After that run-in with the moose and the resulting knock to the skull, he'd found his memories quite vague in some respects, while his recall remained perfect in others.

He could not, for example, remember the way back to his family's last-known territory. He only hoped that one of them would show up at Moonglow, where his uncle Valiant was still in residence. He was visiting now, though not very actively, having still not laid eyes on his elder nor set paw within the territory. Instead, he followed, idly, in the trail of an unfamiliar wolf. Her scent was fresh, but she never appeared before him. He picked up the pace, and then paused to give a quiet howl: Where are you?

Not just her — he didn't even know her — but for his family, and for himself.

Where are you?

I don't know, the silence seemed to answer.

Katmai hurried onward, more intent now on finding the mysterious source of the unfamiliar scent.