This story is told from more than one perspective.  At the beginning of each part a name is given identifying who’s viewpoint it will be told from.  The only exception is the Prologue, which is written in third person.

Prologue: 

Nina awoke, yawned, and stretched.  Her mate, Sequoia, stirred next to her.  She smiled and nuzzled him.  “Oh, not yet,” he groaned, pawing at the air in her direction.  “It’s too early.”

Nina smiled.  Even if Sequoia were the early-morning type, which he wasn’t, he had been out late on a hunt the night before.  ‘Oh, I might as well give him some peace,’ she thought.  She headed to the mouth of the cave to take in the sunrise.

Her ears perked up as she heard whimpering ahead.  Advancing, she almost stepped on a tiny white cub half-buried in the snow.  She sniffed it.  It was a girl, and she didn’t smell like she might belong to any of the neighboring packs.  But whoever’s cub she was, she certainly didn’t belong out here in the cold.  Nina licked her and picked her up, bringing her into the cave.  “Sequoia!” she called.

Sequoia stirred and stood up.  Several members of the pack, also awakened by Nina’s call, came over to see what was going on.

“Look,” said Nina, showing them the cub.  The little white wolf squirmed around on the cave floor, looking for a source of warmth.

“Where did it come from?” asked one of the wolves.

“I found her outside the cave,” answered Nina.

 Sequoia studied the pup.  “She’s very thin,” he observed.  “And she looks ill.”

“What should we do?” asked somebody.

Sequoia looked grave.  “I don’t know what we can do.  It looks like nature’s going to take its course with her.”

“No!” Nina blurted out.  Everyone looked at her in surprise.  Even though she was the alpha female, Nina tended to be quiet much of the time and was not prone to outbursts.  Slowly she said, “What I mean is, shouldn’t we try?”

Sequoia considered.  “What do you suggest?”

Nina closed her eyes, thinking hard.  “I want to keep her,” she said at last.

All eyes turned to Sequoia.  As the alpha male, he would have to decide about any newcomers.  He shook his head.  “She’s not ours,” he said.

“She’s not anyone’s,” countered Nina.  “She needs a home, and we have no children.  Please?”

Sequoia looked at the pup.  Then he looked at Nina.  “Was there any sign of her parents?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  There were no tracks at all.”

He nodded.  “Then she will be our daughter.”

Nina smiled and pressed her neck against his.  “Thank you, Sequoia.”  Then she picked up the cub and trotted over to a soft patch of dirt on the cave floor as the other wolves went off to go about their business.  Lying down, she set the cub next to her.  “Now,” she asked, “What will we call you?”

As if in answer, the little cub let out a squeak that sounded like, “Aneeyu.”

“What?” asked Nina, surprised by the prompt reply.

The cub didn’t answer at first, but just as Nina had begun to think it had been a random bit of baby talk, out it came again.  “Aniu.”

“Aniu.”  Nina tried it out.  It had a smooth sound, with an almost musical tone.

“Aniu?” asked Sequoia, coming over to them.

“It’s her name,” said Nina.  “At least, I think it is.”

Sequoia raised an eyebrow.  “You think it is?”

“Aniu,” burbled the cub.

“Well, she said it when I asked what her name should be, and she hasn’t stopped saying it since.”

Sequoia chuckled.  “Alright,” he said.  “Aniu it is.”

Part One: Aniu 

My earliest memories are of Mama and Papa.  I remember that whenever they could get away from their duties as the leaders of the pack they would play with me, running through the woods or rolling around in soft pine needles.  Often on cold nights we would snuggle up together and they would tell me stories.

One evening I looked around at the other wolves as the pack bedded down for the night.  I don’t know how, but for the first time I realized something.  “Mama?  Papa?” I asked as I snuggled between them.  “How come I don’t look like you?”

Mama sighed.  She seemed hesitant to speak.  “Well, Aniu,” she said at last, “You were adopted.”

“Adopted?” I asked.  I had heard the word before.  Sometimes the other wolves would say it about me.  But I had never managed to learn what it meant because they wouldn’t tell me.  “What’s adopted?”

Mama and Papa exchanged looks.  “Adopted,” explained Papa, “Means that we took you in.  You came from somewhere else.”

I tipped my head.  “Somewhere else?”

Mama sighed.  “We’re not really your parents.  I found you in the snow one morning and we took you in.”

I was confused.  “You’re not my parents?  Then where are they?”

“We don’t know.  There were no tracks.  We just found you out there one morning, right outside the cave.  We…” Mama trailed off.  “We didn’t have any children, so we adopted you.”

The words hit me like a trees falling down right in my face.  I barely knew what to think.  I stood up.  “’Scuse me,” I said, “I need to… get some air.”

As I walked out of the cave, I could hear them talking.  “Do you think we should have told her?” asked Mama.

Papa sighed.  “I don’t know.  She seems to be taking it alright.”

“That’s what worries me.  She barely reacted at all.  It’s like she wants us to think she doesn’t care.”

I shook my head as a tear leaked out of my eye.  If only they knew what was going through my head.  I felt betrayed, cheated, out of place.

“Maybe I should go talk to her,” said Papa.  I heard him get up and approach.  “Aniu?” he asked.  “Are you alright?”

Unable to help myself, I sniffled.  “Yeah, I’m OK,” I said.  “But why didn’t you tell me before that you and Mama weren’t really my parents?”

Papa looked at the ground.  “I don’t know why we didn’t tell you.  I guess… I guess it was because in some ways we’d forgotten.”  He was silent for a long moment.  “Does it really bother you?”

I looked at him as if he had just asked a fish if it would mind taking a trip to an eagle’s nest.  “Yes it bothers me.  Mama’s not my real mother, you’re not my real father, this pack isn’t my real pack…” I built up as my voice got more and more tense.  After a tight pause I asked what every adopted child asks at some point.  “Where is my real pack?  Where are my real parents?  Why didn’t they want me?”

Papa pulled me in close with a paw.  “I don’t know the answers, and it kills me that I don’t.  But I do know this: whether or not I’m your real father, and whether or not Nina is your real mother, you will always be our daughter.  And as long as we’re here, you have no need to feel like you don’t belong.”  He looked up at the sky, and I followed his gaze.  “You see, family is about more than looking alike or sharing the same bloodlines.  Family is about loving and caring for one another.”  He nuzzled me.  “Does that make it any better?”

I still felt confused, but I smiled anyway.  “Yeah, it does.  Thanks Papa.”

He seemed to buy it.  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.  Now come.  Let’s go inside.”

We went back to Mama and I lay next to her.  She licked my forehead.  “Are you alright, dear?”

I nodded.  “Yeah, I’m okay.”  ‘I’ve still got about a million unanswered questions,’ I thought, ‘But otherwise I’m fine.’

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I yawned.  “Maybe tomorrow,” I said, burrowing into her side.

Mama and Papa eventually did have pups, and at last I felt somewhat normal.  True, I didn’t have their full attention all the time now, but it was nice to be in a normal family with brothers and sisters.  I changed a lot as time went on, growing into a strong and beautiful wolf.  At least, everyone said I was beautiful.  Every male in the pack certainly said so at one time or another.  Several times a young bachelor would ask me to join him in a trip to Hokani Falls or go for a short hike to the top of Bear Rock to look at the sunrise or sunset.  I politely turned them down, although I would occasionally change my mind and agree later if they chose not to press the matter or hadn’t already asked somebody else.  The more persistent ones I just told no outright.  One in particular was very annoying: a lone wolf named Kava, whom Papa had allowed to join the pack against his better judgement.  He had black fur, shifty eyes, and smelled like sulfur.  At least once a week he would badger me to go someplace with him.  Eventually I learned to recognize the sound of his approaching footsteps and either left or told him, “No,” before he could open his mouth.  Thwarted, he took to bullying any other male who tried to speak to me.  So for their sakes I stopped talking to them.  I really wasn’t interested anyway.  Oh, they were attractive enough, but I just didn’t have any desire to get romantic.  I think perhaps it was because I didn’t know what they saw in me.  They seemed to think I was a star fallen from heaven, and for all I knew they could have been right.  But whenever I looked into a pool of water and saw my face, all I saw was an unanswerable question: ‘Who am I?’

One day when I was about three years old and out on a hunt, it began to snow hard.  We decided that we would give up the hunt and get back to the cave before it got too bad to find our way.  As we headed for home, I detected a scent I had never smelled before.  It smelled like wolves, but different somehow.  Driven