Call of the Wild

Haiku was quiet these days, spending the majority of his time with his aging family. Grandmother Rhythm was by far the oldest wolf he had ever seen, she was so small and heavily marked with silver where she used to have a thick chocolate coat like he did. She couldn’t see him, nor had she ever been able to see him, but they shared a special bond. He learned a lot about their family’s history, the pack’s history, and even more the history within Boreas itself. She had been around for a very long time, and saw so much over the course of that life he couldn’t even imagine all of it.

His time with her matured him greatly, he had grown into his serious attitude. Much more like their father than any of his other siblings. Haiku was nearing his second birthday and however close he remained to Abaven the boy still felt his paws restless beneath him. He retained some of his adolescent awkwardness, his huge paws not quite matching the rest of his big frame. Still, he towered over many of the adults within Abaven, especially his mother but it had been that way for more than a year.

Ivory splashed form carried him northward, the winter was coming with a vengeance and he felt the chill already. The boy was more than grateful for his thick coat. Prose the white raven flew in the air above him, her sharp eye finding the stranger up ahead long before Haiku could see through the foliage. He ducked from under the leaves with a polite smile on his face as blue and lavender eyes found the stranger as he took a drink.

”Hello,” he greeted with a nod of his head, a bit more ignorant to the threat of bears this time of year. Abaven didn’t have much excitement, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d scented a bear. Haiku wasn’t paying attention, but Prose was. He couldn’t even introduce himself before her alarm call filled the air and she raced back to him. ”Bear!” He interpreted as he lowered himself into a defensive stance, ready for the creature to follow him out of the forest.