Can you hear me calling, calling?

Qanik was concerned. It was autumn, the time of year that they should be preparing themselves for the more difficult time of winter. Yet here they were, eight members when other packs had twice and three times that, and not all of them were capable of working together with rest of the pack. How were they to survive like this? To avoid being folded into another, larger pack like Glaciem? They could not continue on the way they were. All members needed to contribute somehow.

Her mind faded back to the pack hunt, to the shy, scared young girl who had shown up but not participated. Why? Had she never learned to hunt with a pack? Was she crippled? Was she simply too scared of the members of the pack? Whatever it was, Qanik had to know before she could fix it. She didn't know what Roman had planned for the girl; she hadn't had a chance to really speak with Roman about the pack since her unexpected promotion. All she knew was that this girl was in need of something to do, something to learn, a job... something, and she didn't know her well enough to arbitrarily make that sort of decision. She had to see why the girl didn't feel she could hunt, or socialize with the pack, and Qanik needed to help her. It was her duty.

So this misty fall morning, as she stepped out of her den and stretched, she came to a conclusion. She needed to call Misha to her, and get this settled in her mind. So the aging wolf lifted her muzzle to the sky, a low howl rising through the trees, calling for the girl named Misha.



speech.