Legend Of A Legend

I

ALASKA, 1920:

Two small, gray lupines struggled to move through the blizzard that was blowing through the middle of the Yukon Range. The female’s belly bulged noticeably—a few small pups sat inside her, waiting to come out into the world. Her mate was attempting to help her find some shelter in which to spend the night, but none was to be seen through the cold, white blanket that encased them both. The blowing snow stung their faces—the snow was already knee-deep, and more was being piled on all the time.

Suddenly the male heard his mate cry out in pain. He looked over at her and was alarmed to see her stumble and nearly fall, convulsing uncontrollably; liquid was spilling from near her hips.

“They—they’re…here….” the she-wolf said with a pained tone in her voice.

The female grunted as one more contraction took place, and then collapsed onto the wet snow. This caused the male to gasp, for he knew that if his mate did not move, she and the unborn pups would freeze to death. Therefore, he crawled up to her and pressed his body against hers in an effort to share some of his body heat.

“Go…save yourself,” the female grunted, the pain placing her on the brink of unconsciousness.

“No,” the male responded, tears welling up in his eyes. “How could I risk you, and our pups?”

The female gasped then, and soon three tiny gray and brown wolf pups were lying on the snow, struggling to keep their lives in the harsh weather. “They’re—they’re…beau—beautiful,” the new mother said.

“Yes,” the father replied. “And so are you.” Suddenly the female began to shiver uncontrollably. “Are you okay?” the male asked her desperately.

“N-n-no. I—I’m d-d-ying-g-g.” The she-wolf touched noses with her mate for one final time as tears filled her fading eyes. “Take—take care of them,” she said.

The male looked at the three tiny bodies—the three that were just taking their first breaths of air—and he knew he had to protect them, guard them with his life. Yet even as he watched, the newborn male and one of the females slowly stopped moving. He desperately placed his ear to their tiny chests to check for a heartbeat, but the only sounds were those of the still-blowing snow and of the last pup’s shallow breathing.

He started to cry. “Two—two of them… They’re—they’re gone!” he said to his mate. “Gone!”

But there was no response. The dam, too, had succumbed to the harsh cold. Immediately, the wolf picked up his small daughter and held her close against his body in an attempt to keep her alive.

He struggled to walk through the deep snow and occasionally fell through; his will was only intact because of his pup.

Hours later, he finally found a small cave that was tucked into the base of a mountain. He set the pup down on the cool stone floor and collapsed, breathing heavily. Once he caught his breath, he said to his daughter, “Y-you’re…Adera. A-a-dera.” He then crawled over to her and placed his body over hers, insulating her from the icy cold.

Adera smiled and fell asleep.

II

TWO YEARS LATER:

“Dad, where are we going?” Adera asked, curious.

“To the place where you were born, two years ago,” he responded.

“Why?”

“Because that place holds some special memories in my heart.”

“You better not be talking about me!” Adera shot back sarcastically.

“No,” her father said. “You don’t remember, but you had two siblings: one brother and one sister.”

“Did I? Where are they now?”

Her father sighed. “I should have told you this a long time ago. Your—your mother and I…we were stuck out here when she was about to have you. There was a huge blizzard, and your mom gave birth out in the middle of nowhere. She had three pups: you and the other two I told you about before. But the pain…and the cold….”

“No!” Adera gasped.

“They—they were…too—too much….”

“They….”

“Yes,” Adera’s father said. “They…sadly…passed on.”

Adera’s expression hardened and turned into a scowl. “So I was responsible for my family’s death!”

“No—Adera—” her father said, anxious to correct her. “Don’t jump to conclusions! It wasn’t your fault.”

But Adera would not be dissuaded. She turned and ran off into the snowy mountains and disappeared.

“Adera, come back! I’m serious!” her father called after her, but there was no response. Adera would not turn around. She wove through a small thicket of trees and nearly crashed into a large rock formation. But she dodged the rocks just in time and continued to ignore her father’s increasingly desperate cries.

Then Adera turned into a narrow crevice between two steep cliffs and kept running. Why should she have to face the guilt of those three deaths, anyway?

She swerved as she nearly ran off a sharp, rocky ledge that went further down than she could see. Turning sharply to the left, she continued for about five miles until she reached the limit of the mountain range.

Only now did she realize what she had done. “Why am I doing this?” she asked herself. “All I’m going to do is get myself killed.” She reluctantly looked over her shoulder at the barren ground and began to pad slowly back to where she had been before; she knew her father must have been getting worried.

Adera made her way back through the same path she had taken minutes before, continuing east through the mountains. Her expression was still hardened—though not with guilt, but determination. She would find her father; they would both make it out alive.

Meanwhile, Adera’s father had begun his own search for his daughter. Convinced she was still running away, he desperately attempted to follow her, though he had not seen her for almost ten minutes.

He sniffed the air and found her scent lingering in the air. A smile curved across his face and he began to run after her.

“Adera!” he called after her. “I’m coming for you!” He then let out a joyful howl into the air.

But he was so distracted by the joy of knowing his daughter’s whereabouts that he did not see the cliff that even Adera had barely avoided. All he knew was that he was running—the firm ground seemed to be in his favor as he was not slipping—and then there was no ground beneath his paws. He yelped in surprise, and gravity took over, carrying his body down hundreds of feet, down to the bottom of the cliff.

III

Adera heard her father’s cry for help and gasped. Even though I may not be responsible for my mother and siblings’ deaths, if my father dies, it will be my fault. She ran toward the sound, anxious to aid her father in any way she could.

It took her nearly ten minutes to reach the spot where she heard the scream. Once she got there, though, she did not see him anywhere. “Dad,” she called anxiously, “where are you?”

Seconds later, she heard a faint voice that seemed to come from below her. “Adera, I’m…down—down here.”

With a jolt, she realized the voice belonged to her father, and he sounded like he was in great pain. “What happened?” she yelled down the cliff.

“When I was trying to find you, I didn’t see this cliff, and I fell. Help me, please.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Adera said reassuringly, though she was not sure she would be able to do anything. Tentatively, she placed one paw on the snow to see if it would hold her weight. The snow sank slightly under the pressure, but did not slip, so Adera started to climb slowly down the steep mountain. “I’m coming down, Dad!” she yelled.

She stepped down one more time, being careful not to slip; there was no telling what would happen if she fell too. But the snow was loose here, and Adera’s leg lost its hold. She began to tumble down the mountainside. Screaming, she felt herself slam into protruding rocks multiple times. Her head hit off one particularly hard rock, and she nearly lost consciousness. But she continued to fall, the blood from the wound in her head spattering everywhere.

Seconds later, Adera scraped her shoulder on a sharp rock, and a dense cluster of branches left several long scratches across her cheek. Several more trees struck her bruised form, and finally, battered and bleeding, Adera hit the rocky bottom of the cliff. Her head slammed into the ground once more and everything went black.

Hours later, Adera finally regained consciousness. Her head was filled with pain, and her face was caked with dried blood. Her vision blurred when she tried to stand up, but she kept at it. Soon she was on her feet, though she was off balance.

She quickly noticed that her side pained her excessively; she decided that some of her ribs must have been broken in the fall.

Adera looked around desperately for her father, and she soon caught a glimpse of a gray object lying in the snow. With great effort, she padded over and identified it as her father.

“D-dad!” she gasped. “Are—are you all right?”

The wolf slowly opened one eye. “Adera,” he said. “What happened to you?” A

dera grimaced at the pain, but forced herself to respond. “I—I was trying to save you,” she said softly. “But—but I failed. I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t know how I can fix my life.”

“Adera, I—I forgive you,” her father said. “And I wish I could help you. But I—” He broke off mid-sentence. “I love you, A-Adera, and I always will.” He closed his eyes for a second, and then reopened. His expression hardened, and his eye twitched slightly. It was as if he thought that keeping his eyes open would keep him alive.

But it was not meant to be. The light in the wolf’s yellow eye slowly and gradually disappeared, leaving it only a pale, lifeless disk. Adera’s father was dead.

Adera’s eyes filled with tears, and they spilled down her face relentlessly. She allowed herself to collapse limply on the ground, though her broken ribs sent an immense shock throughout her entire body.

She coughed, and was surprised to see blood splash out and stain the snow. Oh, crap, she thought, I’m going to die.

Suddenly a flicker of motion to the side caught her attention. She painfully turned her head to see what appeared to be a majestic ivory wolf.

IV

The wolf slowly padded up to her, and she knew by its scent that it was male.

“What—what…are you…doing?” Adera moaned.

The answer came, though not through the air, but mentally. I have come to take you to the next life, the wolf told her.

“Who—who are you?”

I have no name. I am simply a spirit, meant to guide the weary traveler. Now come.

Adera felt her mind cloud, and she momentarily lost her sense of vision. When it returned, though, she still felt lightheaded—no, her entire body felt light as a feather. She looked down and saw her own lifeless body on the ground below her. A glimpse slightly further showed that she was now a pale white ghost. What’s...happening? she asked the great ivory beast that stood before her.

I have chosen you to be the next white wolf, Adera.

Adera was surprised at this. What do you mean? And how do you know my name?

The white wolf approached Adera slowly and gently touched its muzzle to her chest. A brilliant white glow appeared all around Adera and her body began to melt. The glow encased the dripping skin and fur and stretched it until she became the size of an adult wolf.

Then, finally, her fur changed from the dull gray that it was to the purest white.

You are Aniu, now, the wolf told her then, no longer Adera.

The newly renamed Aniu watched as the wolf before her seemed to sink slowly back into the blowing snow. It was momentarily obscured by the white dust, and then it disintegrated, becoming white dust itself and blowing away with the wind.

Aniu crouched for a second, and then lifted her muzzle and howled into the night.

She then turned back to her father’s body and touched him with her muzzle. “Go on,” she said to him. “Go on to the next life.”

The body glowed, and then it disappeared in a swirl of fine, white mist.

Suddenly Aniu was nearly overcome by a vast amount of knowledge. She saw all; she knew all. She knew about the bird in a tree two miles away that was feeding its young. She felt the mole under the ground digging itself a den in which to spend the rest of the winter.

Then, all at once, something awakened inside her. She had the feeling she was being watched. She had the feeling that she was being stalked.

She looked around anxiously, but did not see anything amidst the snowy mountains that surrounded her.

Without warning, a black shape detached itself from somewhere and leaped on her, knocking into her shoulder and forcing her to the ground. It clamped its jaws on her head, causing her to scream in pain. She felt the blood drip down her forehead and kicked at the beast, noticing that no matter how much she tried to focus on it, the figure was immersed in shadow.

Aniu ignored the pain from the wound on her forehead and attacked the shadow. She raised one paw and drove it into the form, willing her opponent to be destroyed with every fiber of her being. However, her efforts were in vain: her paw caught nothing but air, leaving the shadowy figure entirely unharmed. She was now shocked to discover that her entire front right leg was filled with a searing pain. How the heck can I get rid of this thing? she thought, panicked.

The shadow then began to emit a strange black mist that made Aniu feel as if there was some great internal pressure in her skull, which made it harder and harder for her to concentrate on keeping her life. The pressure was accompanied by and incessant buzzing noise, and before she knew it, Aniu had multiple gashes in her left shoulder.

Still, she could not see fur or claw in the black mass before her, nothing but impenetrable shadow. Out of nowhere, there came more burning pain—a large wound on her right cheek, a bloody gash running down the side of her muzzle from her nose nearly to her left eye, several more cuts on her forehead. She felt something tear at her left ear, and soon the right side of her jaw was nearly sliced to the bone. Many times, she desperately attempted to injure the shadowy figure in some way; many times, she received nothing but more and more severe pain for her efforts.

Finally, Aniu decided that her actions were futile. She resolved to simply lie down on the ground and die. What was the purpose of fighting this strange creature, anyway, if there was no way to defeat it?

Disregarding the many blows that turned her to a bloody mess, she crouched and sat. Then, she lay down and simply waited for the attack to stop.

Suddenly, one final revelation came to the shredded lupine that was on the brink of death. Tediously gathering every last bit of her strength, Aniu willed the figure to leave. To her surprise, a large amount of white mist emerged from her body and surrounded the spirit. When it cleared, the shadowy figure was gone.

Devoid of energy, Aniu collapsed onto the snowy ground and did not move. All she knew was that all the knowledge she had had only minutes before was now gone—she now felt weaker than ever. The fur on her cheeks and muzzle that only a few minutes ago had been white was now stained a dark red. Her head burned with the fury of a thousand volcanoes. Her face and chest bruised and bleeding, she decided that now she needed to die. Until this moment, she had been struggling to hold on to life, but now she recognized the futility of her existence. The world around her flashed in and out of focus—for an instant she could see clearly; now it was a blurry field of white and gray—and soon everything faded to a wall of dark, pressing, impenetrable blackness. She lay, unmoving, her blood staining the snow crimson, and soon became covered completely by the blowing snow.

V

The next day, a hunter was passing through the area with his dog, a gray purebred husky.

The husky, Sango, sniffed the air and was surprised—the scent of a wolf filled his nostrils. He barked excitedly and ran over to where the scent seemed to be coming from.

“What is it, boy?” the hunter asked. “Another animal?”

The gray husky only barked once more and began digging at the deep snow. Seconds later, he uncovered the bloody, mutilated face of a white she-wolf. The hunter took his rifle off his shoulder and began to load it.

But Sango realized this wolf was different. He saw through the many wounds that covered her face and saw her graceful features. The wolf’s grace and beauty amazed him. When he stared at the creature’s closed eyes, he could only imagine what wisdom resided in the yellow orbs beneath the lids. He then turned toward the hunter and was appalled to see that the man was already pointing the gun’s muzzle at the wolf’s forehead, and was tightening his finger on the trigger.

Sango whimpered. The hunter sighed. “I have to make sure the wolf is dead, Sango,” he said. “You know that.” Slightly aggravated, he began to take aim again.

Anxious to save the beautiful creature—if at all possible—that would soon be under the threat of the hunter’s rifle once again, Sango stepped between the wolf and the gun, glared up at the hunter, and growled. You kill me before her, he thought. The image of the wolf’s face filled his mind as he attacked. He leapt onto the man’s chest, clasping his jaws onto the hunter’s arm, and knocked him to the ground. He was relieved to see the rifle fly out of the hunter’s hands. A quick bite to the man’s throat was all Sango needed to finish him off.

Then Sango rushed over to the wolf and desperately began to dig her out the rest of the way. He was shocked to see that the wounds extended past her head and neck and covered nearly her entire body. Though the gashes had stopped bleeding, much of the wolf’s fur was stained scarlet, along with a large portion of the snowy ground beneath her motionless form. With a jolt, Sango began to worry that this beautiful creature might have already succumbed to the great loss of blood from her veins.

Anxiously, he put his muzzle to the wolf’s chest, hoping to find a heartbeat. Several seconds later, he felt a faint thump-thump against his nose. A second or two later, he felt another beat. But this one, the husky realized with dread, was weaker than the last. The wolf was alive, but barely, and she would surely die any second.

Sango then carefully lay down on the wolf to try to warm her. He put his head next to hers and gently nudged her, trying to get any kind of response.

Several minutes later, the wolf groaned. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Sango inches away from her.

“Wh—Who are you?” she asked, bewildered. “I—I mean, what happened?”

“I’m Sango,” the husky replied cautiously. “And I don’t know what happened. I just saw you and wanted to keep you alive.”

“Thank you,” she said. Sango could not help but notice the warmth in her voice.

“You—you saved my life,” the wolf said, and Sango immediately knew that something would soon happen, though he could not predict whether it would be pleasant to him or not.

VI

The wolf slowly staggered to her feet, groaning as the bolts of pain from all over her body reminded her of her many wounds.

“Are you okay?” Sango asked. He then walked close enough for the wolf to lean on him. He felt a portion of her weight on his shoulder and was satisfied. Seconds later, the wolf, realizing she could support her own weight, got off Sango’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said. “What’s your name again?”

“Sango,” the husky replied, blushing slightly. “Are you okay?” He calmly approached her and began to gently lick the wounds on her face.

“Aniu,” the wolf said. “And thank you. You really just saved my life.”

“No problem,” Sango said. “I just had to make sure what’s-his-name over there”—he motioned toward the hunter’s bloody body—“didn’t kill you.”

Aniu did nothing for several seconds. Then something seemed to dawn on her. “Why did you save me?” she asked. “Who am I that you would risk your life for mine? Sango?”

Sango sighed. “I have to tell you, Aniu,” he said, “that you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you die.”

Aniu’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said. Then she chuckled. “Sango, you know what? For whatever reason, I feel the same for you.” She leaned forward and they rubbed muzzles for several seconds. “I love you, Sango,” she said after a pause, “and not just because of what you did for me.”

“I love you, too, Aniu,” Sango replied.

After a pause, Sango asked, “Where do you live, Aniu?”

Aniu placed a paw to her bloody forehead and grimaced briefly; it was as if she was trying to remember. Then she looked to the top of the cliff that loomed above them. I used to live up there…when—when I was younger. But now I don’t know how I can get back up.”

“You said ‘when you were younger’?” Sango asked.

Aniu looked at him inquisitively. “Yes, I did. Why?”

Sango smiled at her. “I can only imagine how beautiful you were then.” He leaned forward and touched his cheek to hers once more.

“So, where do you live, Sango?” Aniu asked. “Could we go there?”

Sango sighed. “I live—lived—with humans, and I’m not sure they would take to having a wolf in their house. Though maybe”—he grinned and winked at her—“they might make an exception for you.”

Aniu chuckled. “Sango….”

“C’mon,” Sango said after a moment, and he began to walk off, sniffing the air every few seconds. “I’m sure I can find us a place to sleep.” He had just noticed that the sun sat low in the sky, which meant there was only an hour or so of daylight left. “You can walk, right?” he called back to Aniu.

“My entire body hurts like you couldn’t imagine,” Aniu said, “but yeah.” She quickened her pace, and soon she and Sango were beside each other, inches apart.

“So, “Sango began, slightly nervous, “what happened to you back there, anyway? Was someone jealous of you?”

Aniu looked at him for a moment, and then placed a paw to her forehead.

“Sorry,” Sango apologized quickly.

“No problem,” Aniu said, chuckling slightly. “But really, that was bad.”

VII

“I would kill whoever did that to you,” Sango said after a minute. “You don’t deserve it.”

Aniu chuckled. “No, I really don’t think I did deserve that. But honestly, I’m not sure I want to tell you about my past. It—it was….” Her voice broke off, and tears began to fill her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sango said. He approached her and allowed her to rest her head against his chest. If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. I promise, Aniu.”

Aniu sniffed. “Thanks—thank you, Sango. You—you know—I thought I killed my brother and sister, and mom, just by being born, and I ran away. My dad ran after me, but it—he fell…and it—it killed him….”

“I’m so sorry,” Sango repeated. He paused for a moment. “Actually, I never really knew my parents. From the day I was born, I was a hunting dog. That’s all I’ve known my entire life.” He licked Aniu’s cheek, and the pair continued walking, searching for a cave.

After several minutes of uneventful walking, Sango spied a cave in a nearby hillside. Aniu needed to squint to see it—the cave appeared as little more that a few rocks gently peeking out from under a mound of snow. The gap between the rocks was nearly invisible, but as the pair neared it, they both saw the inky black hole in the hillside.

“Thing is,” Aniu said, “how do we know this is safe?”

“I was a hunting dog before I met you,” Sango answered, “remember? These snow drifts look pretty fresh, so chances are nothing’s been through here for a while—except us, of course.”

Aniu glanced over her shoulder and saw that Sango was right—their own paw prints were the only disturbances in the white powder that even now was beginning to deepen.

Though she trusted Sango, Aniu was slightly apprehensive as she followed him into the cave. She knew he spoke the truth, but still she could not be sure that there was nothing living in the cave. What if a bear is hibernating in there? she thought, worried. But she reprimanded herself a second later. Don’t jump to conclusions!

Seconds later, they both lay inside the cave, and Sango again licked Aniu’s cheek.

Aniu noticed that there seemed to be a significant increase in temperature. Or is it because Sango’s here with me? she allowed herself to think, half-sarcastic. But she could not deny the fact that there was a hint of truth to the idea that had just crossed her mind….

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Sango said, “So this is it, Aniu. Not much, but it’ll have to do, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Aniu responded, still thinking of how it might be to go there one of these days, to experience that elation, to start her own family with the husky that now stood beside her.

“Something on your mind?” Sango asked innocently. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Aniu said. “Nothing’s wrong, I just….” Her voice broke off as she had realized something. “I feel like…like…”—she paused, trying to find the right words—“like it’s my—my destiny to…to…to start a family. I feel like, for whatever reason, I need to have pups.”

Sango looked shocked. “Uh…what?” he answered after a second.

Aniu lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Sango. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just—I feel like I need to do it. I feel like my life won’t be complete if I don’t. It’s—it’s hard to explain.”

“No, Aniu,” Sango said, “I understand. I just…don’t know if I’m ready for that. We’re so young…what if something goes wrong? I don’t want to be responsible if our pups—or you—die. There’s just too much of a risk. Maybe in a few months, but not yet. Okay?”

“Alright, Sango,” Aniu said, gently running her nose along his muzzle. “In a few months.” “Thanks for saving me,” the Aniu added after a few minutes of silence, but Sango only touched his nose to her muzzle. “No problem,” Sango replied. “Anything for you. Night.”

“Goodnight,” Aniu yawned. She gently lay her head down on the cold stone floor and was asleep in an instant.

Several months had passed since Sango had found the cave, and now he and Aniu felt that they were ready to do what they had been thinking of for all that time.

Aniu lay on her belly on the floor of the cave, her eyes locked on Sango. Soon the husky walked over and lay right beside her, nearly on top of her.

“Time to fulfill your destiny,” Sango said softly. He gazed into her eyes in the dim light of the cave, and could not help but notice that she looked more beautiful than ever that night. He ran a gentle paw over her forehead and calmly licked the side of her muzzle in a loving gesture. “Ready?” he asked playfully.

“Always,” Aniu answered. And it began.

VIII

It had now been five weeks since he and Aniu had taken their relationship to that new level, and now Sango lay awake in the middle of the night, beginning to have second thoughts. The unrelenting questions cascaded through his mind: What was I thinking? I don’t know anything about raising a family, and here I am trying to start one with a wolf I’ve only known for a few months! He groaned, and then sighed. What was I thinking?

He nearly jumped as an unexpected sound cut through the still night air. But a second later, the husky breathed a sigh of mixed relief as he recognized the call—it was a wolf, howling into the midnight sky. So I guess we really aren’t alone out here, Sango thought. “Wait,” he whispered to himself as a sudden burst of inspiration struck him. “We probably won’t be able to raise our pups on out own, but maybe Aniu can convince those wolves to help us.” He sighed. I guess it’ll have to wait until morning.

Sango laid his head on the floor of the cave, shivering as a chilling gust of air ruffled his fur, and contemplated everything that had happened to him since he had met his mate his mate. He wondered what the future held in store for them.

Aniu was already up when Sango awoke the next morning. “I was wondering when you would get up,” she said, gently licking his muzzle. “Guess what walked in a few minutes ago.” She motioned to the side, and Sango saw a half-eaten carcass. “It’s all yours,” Aniu said.

“Did you eat for the pups too?” Sango asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Trust me,” Aniu answered, chuckling. “There’s more than enough meat on there to fill five stomachs. You can eat whatever you want.”

“Thanks,” Sango said, touching his nose to Aniu’s briefly, and he began to eat ravenously.

“Sango,” Aniu said, after all the meat had been consumed, “I’ve been thinking. How are we going to raise our pups? What will we do once they’re born?” There was a worried look in her eyes as she said this, and Sango could not help but notice that her tail briefly dipped between her hind legs.

“You know what, Aniu,” Sango said, resting his head on her shoulder in an encouraging gesture, “believe it or not, I think I might know a solution.”

“And what might that be, exactly?” Aniu asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Last night I heard a wolf howling. That could mean there’s a pack around here, and if w play our cards right, maybe could join them.”

Aniu sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work? What if the wolf is just a loner, like—like me?”

“You’re not a loner, Aniu. We have each other. Can you think of anything better?”

“No,” Aniu replied, “but there’s still so much to get around.” “Such as?” “Wolf custom is very different from what you might be used to,” Aniu answered. “One wrong move and they banish you for life. And that’s if you’re lucky. If not, they kill you on the spot.”

“I thought you used to live alone. How would you know about wolf customs?”

“My father told me about it when I was younger in case I ever joined a pack.” Aniu chuckled. “To be honest, I never thought I’d need it.”

“So…what kind of things do I need to watch out for?” Sango asked tentatively.

“First of all,” Aniu began, “if I know anything about wolves—and I would, seeing as I am one—they would never let anyone who isn’t pure wolf into the pack. So you can’t let anyone know you’re not a wolf. It’s a good thing you don’t look much like a husky,” she said. “I mean that will help us join the pack,” she added quickly when Sango raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Sango replied.

“Also,” Aniu continued, “there are a lot of behaviors you need to learn. For example, when we ask to join, we need to introduce ourselves by saying who our parents are. Plus, you always listen to what the Alpha says. Never challenge him, and never try to do anything until he lets you. No matter what you do, don’t give anyone a reason to be mad at you.”

For several minutes, she and Sango discussed the general wolf way of life.

“So when can we go?” Sango asked his mate about an hour later. “Would it matter if we went now?”

Aniu blinked, and she took a step backward. “I—I guess so. But why so soon? I wasn’t going to leave for at least a few days.”

“The way I see it”—Sango touched his mate’s cheek for a second—“the sooner we go, the more friends we can make in the pack. Then maybe they can help us once the time comes.” He grinned at her, and Aniu returned the expression.

“Yeah,” Aniu laughed. “That makes sense. I can’t wait until they come. Well, how about tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Sango responded.

IX

The next day, Sango and Aniu left the cave in search of what they hoped would prove to be a wolf pack.

“I think the howl came from…over there,” Sango told Aniu, pointing to a nearby mountain.

Aniu sniffed. “It does smell like there might be a few wolves over there. It’s a bit far to know for sure, but I definitely smell something.” With that, she began to move slowly toward the mountain, with Sango following close behind. For several minutes, the pair trekked through the woods, Aniu following the ever-growing scent of the wolves.

Suddenly a loud voice called out to them from somewhere in front. “Stay where you are! Don’t move!”

Sango and Aniu stopped to see several wolves leap out from behind nearby trees. “State your purpose,” one wolf ordered—clearly he was the leader of the group. “This is our territory, so unless you have a good reason for being here, you’d better leave before we tear your throats out.” As if to emphasize their commander’s point, a few wolves growled in unison and took a step forward.

Aniu remained unfazed. “I am Aniu,” she began, “daughter of Aki and Soroai, who are both deceased.”

“My name is Sango,” Sango added. “I was separated from my parents at birth, and I don’t know if they’re living or dead.”

“What pack did your parents live in?” the wolf barked abruptly.

“We’ve been lone wolves all our lives,” Sango answered.

“What is your purpose for coming to the Shiok pack?” the wolf inquired again.

Sango thought carefully before replying. “As you can see, my mate will give birth to our pups in a few weeks. All we ask for is a place to stay until the pups are reasonably grown.”

The wolf looked at him, distrust evident in his gaze. “You swear that this is all you want, and that you will leave at the time you stated?” He placed his right forepaw on the ground about a foot from Sango, and Sango cautiously lifted his own forepaw and set it on top of the wolf’s. The two broke the gesture, and Sango put his paw on the ground.

Nothing happened for several seconds, and Aniu and Sango were both aware that the group of wolves was gradually closing in on them, forming a tightening circle that shrank with every passing second. Sango forcefully kept his paw where it was, afraid to move it, lest the wolves should attack him and Aniu. Then, ever so slowly, the Shiok wolf lifted his paw and placed it on Sango’s forepaw. “Come with me,” he said, the air of distrust diminished but still present, and he began to lead Sango and Aniu deeper into the forest. Three wolves, including the group’s leader, walked in front of them, two on either side, and the last two marched close behind to prevent them from escaping.

The group walked for several more minutes until they entered a large clearing that was many gigantic boulders in varying formations. They stopped in front of what appeared to be the largest formation, and the commander called out, “Honorable Alpha!”

“What is it, Meno?” a voice drifted out from behind a boulder. Soon a wolf appeared, his dark fur faded with age.

“A couple of wolves seek refuge with us,” Meno responded. “They seem to be trustworthy.”

“I will decide that for myself,” the Alpha stated. He stepped past Meno and the rest of the guards and traced a tight circle around Sango and Aniu, sniffing them all the while. He circled them twice, and then met their gaze with a look of amusement. “It seems you do not live very far away,” he said. “I am Soren, the leader of the Shiok wolves. What are your names?”

Aniu was the first to respond. “I am Aniu, daughter of Aki and Soroai. This is my mate, Sango.

“Aki and Soroai,” Soren repeated. “I think…they used to be good friends of—wait, no.” His expression changed as he seemed to remember something. “They were the leaders of this pack before me. They went out to find food one day, just before Soroai’s pups were about to be born, and…they never came back. But—but you said you are their daughter, the daughter of the Alphas before me?”

Aniu looked at Soren solemnly. “I was the only one of my litter to survive,” she began. “My father told me that my brother, sister, and mother all died from the cold and pain.”

“Is Aki still alive?” Soren inquired, a trace of hope evident in his voice.

Aniu shook her head, frowning. “He died about two years after I was born. He fell down a cliff, and I fell trying to rescue him. I nearly died, but Sango found me and saved my life.” She had decided not to tell of her encounter with that mysterious ivory wolf, for she still did not know what it had meant.

“What about you, Sango?” Soren asked him.

“I have no memories of my parents, or of my life before Aniu,” he responded, hoping that Soren could not detect the lies that he had delicately woven into his answer. “I was separated from my parents when I was young, and ever since I’ve been struggling to get by on my own. Then I found Aniu, and you can see where that went.”

Soren raised an eyebrow at this, but he showed no other sign of suspicion. Then he addressed Aniu. “I am sorry for your loss, Aniu. But as your parents were members of the Shiok, the Alphas, even, you and Sango are welcome to stay as official members yourselves. Now, let me take you to what will be your den. I must call a council tonight and inform the pack of this news.”

X

Soren turned away from Sango and Aniu and began to lead them through what seemed to be a maze of paths through the rocks. But they only walked for a moment before they stopped in front of a large overhang that was easily spacious enough to accommodate four grown wolves.

“This was used as the Alphas’ den,” Soren explained. “My mate, Kanil, perished about six months ago, so now I give you full use of it for as long as you need.”

Sango raised his head almost imperceptibly. “Thanks, but I have one question. How will we get back?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “I know we didn’t go far, but I’m lost.”

Aniu tried in vain to suppress a chuckle, but Soren answered him. “Do not worry; I live very close to this den. Rest, and I will return tonight.” He disappeared back the way they had come, leaving Aniu and Sango to ponder the day’s events.

Soren returned a few hours later, when the sun was on the horizon. “Come,” he said to Aniu and Sango, “the council is about to begin.”

Sango stood quickly, but Aniu hesitated. Sango glanced at his mate, puzzled. “Why aren’t you coming?” he asked.

Aniu was silent for a second. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “I guess I still don’t trust most of these wolves. It’s only a few weeks until the pups come, and I don’t want to risk hurting them.”

“Soren’s giving us food, a place to sleep, a den—just because of who your parents are, he’s practically made us the next Alpha pair, and we just got here this morning!” Sango countered. “With the way he’s been treating us, how come you don’t trust him?”

“He’s been treating us almost too nicely,” Aniu retorted. Then she sighed. “Alright, I’ll go, but only because we’re mates.” She stood and trotted over to stand beside Sango, staring impatiently at Soren. S

oren had been watching the pair all this time, and now he was beginning to feel a hint of worry and regret. I really should tell them, he thought. But no, I wouldn’t want to disappoint them. Their family has such a future…. But he ignored the nagging premonitions and headed away from the den, making sure Sango and Aniu were following.

The Alpha led the pair over a small number of trails until they came out upon a large clearing. Several yards from the edge of the clearing, the ground dropped off into a kind of stepped bowl about a hundred feet in diameter. A quick glance showed about a dozen wolves scattered across the small ledges, muttering amongst themselves.

Sango and Aniu watched with curiosity as Soren stood at the center of the bowl’s rim, only twelve feet above the highest ledge, and gave a short, high-pitched bark. Immediately, the wolves all fell silent and lowered their heads to the ground in a submissive posture.

“Rise, Shiok,” Soren addressed the pack, his raspy voice seeming weaker than usual. “My time is short,” the Alpha continued, “and this may be the last council I ever lead. Today, however, I had brought to me two young wolves, one of them about to birth a litter of pups. I have decided now, that they will be my successors as your leaders.” He ignored the gasps of surprise that emanated from the wolves gathered below and continued his speech. “This is Sango”—he motioned, and Sango stepped forward—“and this is his mate, Aniu, daughter of none other than my predecessors, Aki and Soroai.”

A chorus of growls erupted from the wolves below. “That’ll work well,” one dark brown wolf called out. “I thought I was going to lead this pack. There’s a reason we kicked those lowlifes out in the first place, and now you want to bring their kids back to torture us some more?”

“Silence, Anok,” Soren ordered abruptly. “Aki and Soroai died shortly after their daughter was born, and I’m sure she has no idea of how her parents led us!”

“That’s right,” Anok countered. “Aniu has no freaking idea how to lead a wolf pack, so why the hell are you making her Alpha?”

“Anok,” Soren said, now sounding aggravated, “I will say this no more. Silence! I am sure Sango and Aniu will learn how to lead us in time, and the pack will prosper."

“What makes you think that?” a lighter female called from her place right beside Anok—presumably his mate. “How do you know Aniu isn’t—how do you know she can even lead a wolf pack?”

“It’s in her blood,” Soren answered. “She was born to an Alpha, and so she will be an Alpha.”

“If she has the same blood as her parents,” the female continued, unfazed, “I’d rather jump off a cliff than stay in this hellhole of a pack!”

“You know the law about leaving the pack, Shiraea,” Soren said. “That’s treason, and you know that means you’ll be killed on sight.”

But Shiraea was not discouraged. “And I’ll die of hunger in half the time if you let those idiots lead us, you f—”

“For the last time, silence!” Soren shouted. “The council is over. Return to your dens!” Then he turned to Sango and Aniu. “Follow me,” he said, and then, ears back, shoulders hunched, he turned and stormed off into the woods.

XI

Aniu was shocked. “What’s the deal?” she asked Sango. “What could my parents heave done to make the wolves hate us so much?”

Sango sighed. “I don’t know. At least Soren seems to like us. Can’t say the same for Anok and Shiraea, though.” He and Aniu quickened their pace, and soon they were standing outside Soren’s den.

It was now dark, and the light of the full moon cast deep shadows over the tree-covered landscape.

Aniu approached the Alpha cautiously, noting that he seemed hyperventilating. “Soren, what’s wrong? Why did Anok and Shiraea hate me? What was it about my parents that made them so angry?”

For several seconds, the only sounds were those of the wind and of Soren’s measured panting. But soon the wolf answered. “I should have told you this earlier. Your parents, Aniu—Aki and Soroai—they nearly destroyed the pack. The decisions they made led to the loss of most of our food supply in only a few months. The balance of life in this territory was upset and our land nearly became a barren tundra. This is the largest in this territory, the greatest in all of Alaska, and your parents nearly starved us. Without our pack, the deer and caribou would run rampant, and much of this great forest would be lost.”

“What about Anok and Shiraea?” Sango asked, his voice like that of a frightened pup. “What should we do about them?”

Soren raised his head and chuckled. “The Betas? Hmph. They’re just big pups. Don’t worry about them; they won’t hurt you.”

“I just want safety for our pups,” Sango replied. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t trust them or any of the wolves yet.”

“I don’t fully trust everyone all the time, either,” Soren answered. “But we all have to stick together for the benefit of the pack. There’s a saying in the Shiok that’s been passed down since we started: ‘Reach for the light—you might touch the sky.’ We have taken this phrase to heart over the years.”

A minute of silence passed, and then Sango and Aniu returned to their den under the midnight sky.

The next day, Sango left the cave to explore some of the pack’s territory. He noticed a few other dens—that he carefully shied from, so as not disturb any wolves that might inside—and he caught a glimpse of the council area from the night before. He spoke with five or six other wolves and took solace in the fact that many of them seemed not to mind having him and Aniu as future Alphas. But he was only minutes from returning to his den when he heard a voice behind him.

“Ah, Sango,” the wolf said, walking up beside him with a sneer on his face. “I thought I recognized you.”

“What do you want, Anok?” Sango asked, whirling around to face him.

“I have to say, Sango,” Anok said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “that I feel bad for you. Or at least I feel bad that your mate doesn’t love you, and that her parents didn’t love her.”

Sango’s jaw dropped. “What—what are you talking about? Aniu loves me, and I love her! Do you think our pups would exist if we didn’t love each other?”

“Okay, okay,” Anok said quietly in mock surrender. “Maybe your mate loves you. But if her parents loved her—they knew what they did to us, they knew how much we hated them—if they loved her, they would have killed her on the spot, slit her throat the minute she was born. And that”—he took a step forward and lifted a claw to Sango’s throat—“is what I recommend you do to all your sons and daughters. All of them. And don’t tell anyone I told you this, or”—his voice dropped to a whisper that made the fur on Sango’s neck stand on end—“your pups will never be born.” He lowered his claw and sprinted away through the thick forest.

Still shocked from the sudden turn of events, Sango was still for several seconds before he dashed back to the den to inform Aniu of the threat.

“I really don’t know what it is with that wolf,” Aniu said once Sango returned, shaking her head. “I mean, Soren told us he could be trusted, that he wasn’t violent. But now I’m not so sure.”

“You don’t…don’t want to—to actually do that, do you?” Sango asked. Aniu glared at him. “Why would I want to kill the pups? I’m not going to destroy all this work just because some idiot has his ego a bit too high!”

“That’s what worries me,” Sango said. “It’s obvious we won’t kill the pups once they come, but what about Anok? If he finds out about this, he said he would kill you. What if he comes while I’m away? You can’t fight, and I don’t want to put your life in danger.”

Aniu thought for a moment before replying. “You’re right. We need to tell Soren somehow, without Anok finding out.”

“What can Soren do?” Sango said. “I trust him, but face it, he’s old. How long will he be able to hold up against Anok before he’s killed?”

“That’s true,” Aniu said after a second. Then she sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to act like nothing happened and hope for the best.”

XII

Aniu sprinted though the forest, panting so hard she thought she might die of exhaustion. She somehow knew she needed to reach one of the towns on the coast as soon as possible.

She stole a risky glance over her shoulder and saw several wolves in hot pursuit, gaining steadily with every passing minute. The wolves were small and nimble, and they had their ears pinned back and their teeth bared in a menacing snarl. Letting the wolves catch her was death.

Still Aniu carried on through the deep woods, fatigue gradually taking its toll on her weakening body.

Now she became aware of two small pups fighting for their lives by hanging onto the long fur on her shoulders. These pups, she knew, had to make it out of this alive. So she ran all the harder for the pups’ safety. Her life mattered little compared to those of the two tiny beings that were feet away from certain death. Now the deep forest ended and opened out into a snowy clearing as far as the eye could see. But it was not a clearing so much as a blizzard. The temperature dropped sharply and abruptly, and soon Aniu was shivering so much she could barely run. The freezing snowflakes bombarded her face with the power of a thousand jackhammers, and she thought she felt ice form almost instantaneously between her paw pads, causing even more pain. She then took the pups from her shoulders and began carrying them in her mouth in a desperate attempt to warm them with her hot breath.

Another glance over shoulder told her that the wolves were getting closer and closer with every yard. Now they were only a few feet behind her. She could hear their heavy pants as they laboriously sprinted inches behind the tip of her icy tail.

It was only another minute before Aniu realized that all her efforts were in vain. Her lungs ached and stung more painfully than she could ever imagine, and every movement, every motion, every breath was torture. She felt the frost form on her nose and ever so slowly creep up her muzzle, until the fur on her cheeks was fringed by a thin layer of ice.

By this time, her paws were covered in blood from all the wounds caused by the ice in her paw pads, and a line of tiny droplets of red trailed behind her, growing all the while. But the pain was not why Aniu’s heart fell at the sight of the blood behind her—she was already numb; she did not feel the pain. Instead, she knew that the wolves chasing her—which only now did she notice seemed to have disappeared—could track her.

It was already difficult for Aniu to feel the pups clinging to her frozen teeth; in fact, she was not even entirely sure they were still there. But now the world seemed to drift away, surrounded by a swathe of darkness, and seconds later the tunnel vision left and returned again. Only this time, the blank expanse before her seemed to be upside-down, changing colors more rapidly than seemed possible.

Until this point, Aniu had kept herself going solely for the benefit of the two pups. But now, she realized her efforts were in vain. Knowing she may never be able to forgive herself, she dropped the pups into the densely packed snow, and then collapsed herself, panting heavily. Shards of ice flew down her throat, shredding her lungs. She began to cough, and more blood began to pour from her nose and mouth. The world nearly became encased in blackness once again, shrinking to only a spot at the edge of her vision, but then it came back again, blurred and unrecognizable. She saw the two tiny forms in the icy snow a few feet from her, and she knew they were all going to die.

Straining with all her power, all her will, all her love for her two pups, she reached out and licked each one a single time on the forehead. Her mouth struggled to form words, but none came. Reduced only to fragmented thought, she expressed her last: You will be missed.

All was black.

Aniu woke with a start, panting heavily. “Where are they?” she asked herself frantically, searching for the two small bodies that she knew must be somewhere near her.

But a second later, she realized that it all had been a dream. So I’m not dead, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief. She saw the still form of Sango beside her; her mate’s chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. Then she became aware of a pain in her stomach.

That’s strange, Aniu thought, it’s only been around two months. They should be about to come out—Wait! The pain in her stomach suddenly exploded exponentially, and she knew now that this was no ordinary event.

“Sango!” she yelled, agony filling the single word. She saw her mate jerk awake and rush to her side.

“What’s happening?”

“Can’t you see?” she asked. “They’re—oh!” Another explosion of pain interrupted her, and soon a tiny pup lay on the wet ground beside her, squirming as it took its first breaths of air.

Over the next several minutes, three more pups came into the world. But Aniu did not share the grin that spread across Sango’s face. She was dizzy: the world seemed to be spinning around her; all the light she saw from outside the cave seemed to be fading out. She was dimly aware of Sango’s voice calling to her: Aniu? Aniu! Don’t die! Aniu, hang in there! Hold on! Then everything seemed to fade into a comfortable blackness….

Aniu (c) Universal.

All other characters (Adera, Sango, Soren, Anok, Shiraea) (c) me.