I cant think of anymore good titles

Paw prints pressing into the ground, slowly changing from soft dirt to hardened soil to layers of ice and freshly fallen snow. Careful not to bear too much weight on his steps, allowing the wind to brush away that top layer of imprints. Trekking forward, not quite on a mission, but a search for something. Paranoia glittering in the corner of his eye, watching every corner, nook, and cranny. Not wanting to be followed, to be found, to be seen. He avoids it.

Sticking to the shadows, he’s careful not to brush along the spindling trees that reach for the darkening sky. Having waited for the sun to sink behind the norther mountain range, he feels more comfortable in the twilight. Soon it would be dark, too dark for most, but for him? He languished in it. His eyesight poor during the day, but spectacular during the night.

The way his stomach grumbles continues his pursuit deeper into the pines. Food is on his mind and he needed something he hadn’t tasted before. Having been told of a weasel covered in white fur, he salivated at the idea of turning that blank canvas red. Attempting to pick up on a scent he’s not familiar with, the wolf stops for a moment in a rather large clearing.

Some trees have fallen during a recent wind storm, leaving the trunks laying haphazardly across the ground. Perfect places for rodents to hide. Stepping out from the shadows, he glances up to the sky. Taken by surprise at how large the moon is, it sends a trickle of apprehension through him. What was it about this land and the weird things that happened around it? Not only were the wolves so different, but so was it fauna and now the sky? Had he transported to a different planet?

Distracted by his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the approach of another until it’s too late. Whirling around, fur bristling around his neck, he lifts his lips in a sneer. “Unless you’re looking for a fight, don’t come any closer,” Idris warns, the growl in his chest making it clear that he was serious.


Word count: 357 / 1500