Leaf turned her head and began to lick her pup’s fur, trying to warm her, and dry her off.                                                                                             “Now that they are all finally here, what do you think we should we name them?” She stopped licking the pup and asked the roan wolf beside her.                                                                                                               Oak watched the pups for a moment, and then gently nudged a small brownish-gray wolf that was sleeping soundly next to Leaf’s front paw. “He looks just like you, Oak. We should start with him. He should be the easiest to name, what with that white paw of his,” Leaf said.                                                                                                “Yes,” he whispered, “That paw makes it seem as if he has just stepped into new-fallen snow. How does Snowfoot sound to you, Leaf? It’s a little long for a forest wolf, but…”                                                                                                                      Leaf nodded proudly.                                                                                                            “Just what I was thinking. Unique, yet perfect. And all of them are so beautiful; it won’t be hard to choose names for the rest of them. So this one,” she said, pointing with her nose to a small brown wolf with a sort of cinnamon tinge to her perfectly groomed coat, “Could be Flower; because she is the prettiest little pup I have seen in a long time—just like the wildflowers in spring. And these two here look exactly alike. They are both gray, with the same markings. Let’s call them Cedar and Stone.” The two puppies did look alike. Each one was a soft gray color, with streaks of darker gray running around their eyes, across their backs and over their tails.                                                                                                  “That sounds good,” Oak agreed. “But…but what about this other one—the newborn pup? She is beautiful too, yes, but will be rather difficult to name—just look at her markings! We could always name her Midnight—after the stars and the sky at night.”                                                                                                                                          He was looking at the newly born wolf, a pitch black she-wolf, blacker than the night surrounding the camp, whose paws were whiter than snow, and a white star on her forehead that reminded him of the magnificent, starlit sky just outside of the den. She was curled up far away from the other pups, lying on the leaves near Leaf’s tail. Her fur was still fluffy from Leaf having licked her.                                                                                                                                  “I have already picked a name for her,” Leaf whispered. “I knew her name the moment she was born. And something tells me that she will have a great destiny before her—greater that any wolf yet. And I also know that she has an amazing power—we both know what it is, I’m sure.  I don’t know how I know, but I just have a feeling…”                                                                                                Oak stared at Leaf, shock in his brown eyes.                                                                                                  “But how can you be sure? I won’t believe it—not on the word of a tired she-wolf that has been up all night. No offense meant,” he added quickly when he saw the spark in Leaf’s eyes, “but I doubt you are really thinking straight, Leaf. You are tired, and should rest before you go off saying such powerful