Note: All chars belong to me once again, except for the great white wolf. You can use my chars, but you have to ask me first.

 Tark sighed. By now, he was used to being very alone. Only a month ago, had his pack been killed. Tark had predicted it, in a dream, every night, two weeks up until the night it had happened. Now, the great white wolf was punishing him for not telling his pack.

His guilt seemed to grow every day, fed by his loneliness, and the reason for it. The pain had begun to hurt him less and less each day. Not missing his pack brought him more guilt, and more guilt brought him more pain. He was in an endless cycle of guilt and pain.

He had become quite an efficient hunter. Being so young, he wouldn't have been expected to catch anything, or even hunt at all until he was much older, if his pack were still alive. But his pack was long gone now. He was such a young lone wolf, that he had to hunt all by himself. He mostly caught rabbits, and other small prey, mostly rodents, to keep himself alive.

Tark leaped up onto a very large rock. Once at the top, he sat and began to howl at the moon. It was a full moon tonight. Tark was only seven months old, but he had already developed a love for howling.

“What is that awful racket?” A red wolf asked.

Tarks ears went forward, he opened his eyes, and turned his dark colored head to look at the red wolf, all at once. Tark just stared. It had seemed so long since he had last looked upon the face of a brother wolf.

“I was howling sir.” Tark replied queitly, afraid of the very muscular red animal before him.

“Don't call me sir. You can't be much younger than me. Besides, it's too formal. I'm Pekartok, but all my friends call me Pek. Who're you?” the rusty red wolf asked.

“I'm Tark.” He replied.

“Where's your pack?” Pekartok asked, looking around.

“They died. Humans killed them. I miss them so much.” Tark answered quietly.

“I'm sorry. Hey, why don't you come with me? I'm sure that my pack will have you.” Pekrtok replied, with a friendly smile.

“Alright.” Tark agreed with a nod, then he followed Pekartok back to Pekartoks packs territory.

*

Pekartoks pack did accept Tark. They were very nice about it. They never asked him questions. Tark hoped that when he was older, that they would allow him to pledge, and eventually, join their pack. He could see them accepting him, and it pleased him greatly.

Pekartok was the son of the Alpha wolf, and the two looked almost identical, except Pekartoks father had a thin black stripe down the center of his face, and Pekartok had a black spot under his chin.

Pekartoks parents were very different. Some would say, as much as night and day. While Pekartoks father was thin and mangy, Pekartok's mother was fat and quite well groomed. She was fat because she was expecting a second litter, so she was eating more food, and moving less.

Pekartok seemed friendly. He was very protective of Tark, and never wanted to play with the other wolf pups of the pack. Tark however, did. He used to love frolicking with the other wolf pups in his pack. He wanted to get to know the other wolf pups in Pekartoks pack, but Pekartok would never let him.

Tark missed his family. He missed the way his Uncle Tuwawi would take him and his siblings on tours, and show them all of the pack's territory. He missed the Pack elders' stories. He even missed the way his mother would baby him because she was convinced that he was blind, or almost so.

Tark had gone for a walk by himself. He needed some space from the pack, especially Pekartok, and Pekartoks father had wanted a word with his son. Tark wandered down by the river, and lapped up some fresh, cool water.

“You have to kill him today.” A male voice said firmly. Tark recognized it to be Pekartoks fathers voice.

“Tonight father?” Tark heard Pekartok ask.

“The line from which Tark has come, will end tonight.” Pekartoks father agreed.

“With the line destroyed, revenge will be complete.” Pekartok replied.

“And, with your first kill of a brother wolf, you will become a full fledged member of this pack. I know you can do it. Tark is a weakling. You are strong, my son. You will also become an adult tonight. We shall celebrate.” Pekartoks father finished.

Tark was terrified. He raced back to Pekartoks pack. He was ignored by the other pups, so he went to the adult pack members. He wondered if they would believe him. He wondered if they would help him. He was so afraid, that he was near tears.

“What is it boy?” mumbled an old, dark gray wolf with white eyes.

“Pekartok..... He's going to kill me!” Tark panted.

The white eyed wolf just shrugged and put her head on her paws. Another adult wolf just yawned. Tarks eyes grew wide. Either the entire pack thought he was lying, or they didn't care! Now, he was by himself.

“Pekartok is going to murder me tonight! I'm telling the truth!” Tark exclaimed, attempting to convince the older wolves, who continued ignoring him.

“Aww... Who ruined the surprise?” Pekartok asked evilly.

“I thought you were my friend!” Tark cried.

“Us? Friends? HA!” Pekartok laughed. “Ever heard the phrase 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.'? Eh?”

Pekartok snarled and leaped at Tark. Tark was tackled to the ground. He struggled, grabbing at anything of Pekartok he could reach. He soon had a mouthful of Pekartoks neck. He pulled, and scratched Pekartoks underside with his claws.

Pekartok leaped back, yelping in pain. Tark had not let go of Pekartoks neck, and so, was dragged up when Pekartok had leaped backwards. Tark pushed Pekartok to the ground, and stood on his paws. He let go of Pekartoks neck for a moment, and grabbed Pekartoks ear. He shredded it into several strips.

Pekartok screamed in pain. Another member of the pack, leaped in and pushed Tark off of Pekartok. The member was checking Pekartoks ear. Tark took off into the bush. He wound through trees, shrubs, and thorn bushes. The wolves that had come after him, were far too large to follow Tarks trail exactly, but they kept on his trail.

Tark had a short advantage. When he got out of the bushes, there was a large, rocky hill. When his pursuers finally fought their way out of the bush, Tark had a head start on climbing. He quickly made it to the top, cutting his front paws, making three deep cuts in his left paw, and one in his right.

Tark chanced a look back. The wolves were having a difficult time getting up the hill. It was icy, as the season was getting late in the fall. The adult wolves weight was dragging them back down to the forest. Tark continued forward, running from them.

Tark had soon lost them. He quickly found a small cave to hide in. He was safe, for now at least. He stepped outside, and walked to the creek. It had started to snow, and when he stepped outside, the snow seemed to intensify.

And there, in the swirling snow, was the white figure of a wolf. The snow was hiding most of the wolf's features from Tark, but there was one feature that was very prominent. A smile. The wolf nodded at him, and then disappeared in a gust of wind, the snowflakes swirling and dancing around him.

“Thank you.” Tark said, knowing that he had been saved by the great white wolf once again.