Whitebark Stream or bury a friend

Daylily was excited to really get into her life in Whitebark Stream. The members were active and she’d met a lot of them. In spring, she’d be able to be a bit more helpful and start fishing and hunting small game to fill the caches. For now, she looked for other ways to help. She had never done border patrols in Oakstead; she’d always been far too busy gardening, nature-watching, or learning more about her faith. And she’d been allowed to pursue what she wanted. So border patrol was something she had never even thought of. But now, here, it seemed important. So off she went.

Soon, she saw a male she hadn’t met yet moving through the trees. He was monochrome in color, something she didn’t see much of. Back in Oakstead, most wolves were cloaked in warm colors, like her: browns, reds, and creams. Many were also white, as they had come from far north, and she had seen full black-furred wolves occasionally. But she had never seen a wolf in an agouti pattern who had no color to him. It fascinated her, for she was young and had not seen much of the world or its people yet. 

“Hello,” she called out to him in a friendly tone. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Daylily. What’s your name?” Her tail wagged behind her as she waited for his answer.