My earliest memories are those of my puphood. I didn’t have much of a puphood, so to speak – or at least, what I did, wasn’t very long. I was the third eldest, before me were Strider and Santini, the twins. Big, lanky, black-pawed yellow males. In love with live, they were. Quiet, reserved Veil was after me, his coat dark-jaden, like mine. But a thick, near-black mask of fur covered his head and neck, which was how he got his name. Then there were the youngest, a male and a female, one blue, one yellow. Mother was a gentle, good-natured creature and noLupe could have care more for her litter. Father was kindly and very easygoing on us pups, putting up with any amount of our playfighting.
But peace would not last. Strider was the first of the family to fall, with Santini watching, horrified as they tore his twin apart. It destroyed Santini, too, at least who he had been. The happy, joyful, bold pup died with his twin, leaving behind a near-silent, sullen, withdrawn, mistrustful shell.
The pack that killed my brother came after my parents, only a few weeks later. They killed both of my parents. I remember watching, paralyzed with shock, knowing there was nothing I could do. Just watching…
The next thing I knew, Santini shoved me out of the hollow log, pushed me roughly in the opposite direction to the savage pack* ~They’ve seen us! Run!~
But it was too late – As Santini had said, they had seen us, and they were coming after us – five pups, no more than further sport to them.
I found myself running blindly, alone. And so I would remain for the next hour, running my heart out, cold terror gripping my heart at the memory of a snarling, vicious blue and white face with empty black eyes. That fear kept me running even though I could no longer hear them behind me.
Finally, I stopped. I fell. Heedless of everything, my body would stay awake no longer.
When I awoke, I found I was still alone. But I hadn’t been tracked and eaten by killer Lupes, so some luck had to have been on my side.
This realization reminded me that the savage pack could still be out there… still trying to kill me. Had they got my siblings? Quiet Veil, reserved Santini, and our youngest two siblings, shy Deayna and playful Sunflower. Were they even alive now?
I tried to hunt. What choice did I have? I was completely alone in the world, I had nothing and no one to rely on. My siblings could be dead, and I could be being trailed by a pack of Lupes who would ensure I soon joined my family.
During the next few weeks, I lost all traces of fat I had, which wasn’t much. The most experienced I’d had with hunting was playing with a lame mouse Strider once found – nothing more than that. I went very hungry, surviving mainly on meager scraps while I trialed and errored after small rodents and insects.
Then, a few weeks later, I came face the face with a rangy yellow male with black paws, his ribs showing through skinny sides. His deep blue eyes, mirrors of mine, went wide with shock, then Santini was hugging me fiercely. I hugged him back, thankful beyond words my brother had survived.
We stayed together – indeed, we were inseparable. He hadn’t changed from the state Strider’s death had left him in – indeed, he was even more withdrawn from things now. But I grew to understand him, respect him – and I developed a deep, powerful bond with my brother. We kept away from others, learnt to hunt together, though neither of us were very good. Santini didn’t trust strangers, and any who, on the offchance we hadn’t seen them and moved on, approached either of us they were met with bared teeth and snarls. Santini was perhaps, a touch protective of me. I didn’t, don’t, blame him for that. But I hadn’t had any experience with the world, with meeting new people. At that stage, it didn’t really matter to me, but I’d pay the price in later life.
Then it happened. The fight, alongside strange, unknown Lupines to us. Normally, Santini would have steered well clear of them, but we were drawn by the sounds of battle. Santini was drawn – I believe, somehow, he knew who it was tied up in this particular fight. There we found the Lupes – two skunk, a blue and two fires – fighting a bunch of the Lupes who had killed our parents. Santini lost it. I’d never seen him so angry. He went straight to the big blue Lupe’s side. I didn’t understand the reason why, then… though the blue fought with the ‘good guys’, to me, he looked very alike to the savage pack. A shade lighter, and he didn’t have those chilling, all-black eyes… but my wariness kept me back for a moment. Not so Santini. The blue he leapt to help versed an equally massive, darker blue Lupine with black eyes. It was this Lupe, before the pack retreated, who struck Santini.
I had joined the fight, unable to bear seeing my brother hurt. The battle raged. I was no fighter, I’d never lifted a paw against another as long as I’d lived. Finally, the savage ones pulled back, and the skunk male with white paws and blazes over his back let out a yell* ~They’re heading back for the pack! Follow them!~ *I never forgot his fierce, warlike expression. He hated those dark blue, black-eyed ones. I knew, because I’d seen the same hatred on Santini’s face. The skunk, I would later learn, was Wolverine, an amazing warrior of his pack. His expression that day burnt itself into my memory, mingled with the exact expression on Santini’s face. I would always remember that expression, for one reason… it was one of the last expressions my brother would ever accurately make.
One of the black-eyed caught me a heafty blow to the head, and for a while I lay, disorientated and stunned.
When I went to him, the others, good and bad, all gone now – I could not hold back the gasp. I could not see Santini’s face. It was masked in blood.
I cleaned him, tried to stop the wounds bleeding. He was unconscious, and would remain so for the next three hours while the blood flowed. I could not stop it flowing.
Finally, it stopped, and with uttermost gentleness, I rinsed the last layer of blood away.
This time I made no sound. But the shock still hit me to the depths of my heart.
Three wounds ripped over my brother’s handsome face. Two complete, one broken. They were as deep as my claws were long – and they tore over both his eyes.
He lost his sight. How could it be retained? The wounds were direct and I was no Healer. As long as he lives, Santini will never see another thing.
As I’ve said, I am far from a Healer. Santini’s wounds were slow to heal. I hunted for us both, but again, I was never outstanding at it. Slowly, Santini and I grew thinner and thinner. I spent all day and most of the night trying to find food for us, getting three or four hours sleep a day, if I was lucky. Santini and I pushed on, gradually, leaving behind the battlefield which had claimed Santini’s vision. We stayed away from everyone. Who could tell who was out to harm us and who honestly wanted to be friends? I couldn’t bring myself to take the risk, commit to anyone. So we kept moving. Santini didn’t trust anyone anyway – loosing his sight, being unable to hunt and care for either me or himself, was a terrible blow to him. For a while he did not speak a word. For a while he snapped at anyone we did meet. Another reason to remain loners and on the move. I tried, I tried so hard, to look after him. But I just wasn’t good enough – a good enough healer, hunter, sister. I could do nothing but keep hunting, leaving Santini curled up in a hollow or shallow cave or abandoned burrow, while I did. I could do nothing but watch his sides grow thinner and thinner, until trenches forced themselves between each of his ribs.
I was no pretty picture myself. Skinny enough to rival your average Meerca, I was in as bad shape as Santini was – which hardly helped my minimal hunting skills. But Stone never saw things that way.
I was padding slowly alongside a narrow stream, watching for dead fish and other possible meals. I caught a soft rustle, and then saw the Lupine. He was big, taller than me, and far more solid. Muscular, no doubt this was a fit creature. His thick fur was a solid grey, evenly-spaced ears swept back in a curve. He watched me, eyes as clear a blue as my own focused straight at me, wide, an odd excitement glittering in them. I slowed further, staring back at him, trying desperately to think of something to say – and tripped over a tree root, splashing straight into the stream.
That serves me right, I thought to myself. Teach you to start dreaming about the first male that comes along and no watch- A strong pair of forepaws grasped me, pulled me from the water, lifting me without effort. The grey Lupine’s face was lit by a softly amused half-grin, as he set me down gently on the ground. He lifted one of those large paws, wiping the water carefully from my face, peering at me with a note of anxiousness behind his amusement*
~Hey, you ok? That was a pretty good trip you just made~ *I hastily found my paws, the grey Lupe’s paw steadying me easily* ~I, um, yeah, sorry, I-~ *Stopping, I managed to re-arrange my mind and get out a coherent sentence* ~Yes, I’m ok.. thank you for… rescuing me~ *The line sounded clichéd, even to my ears, but he only grinned at me, keeping one paw lightly upon my shoulder* ~Quite all right, pretty one~ *He murmured, that grin still lingering. My heartbeat doubled, as I tried to keep a cool front. For goodness sake, I was behaving like a lovestruck whelp over a stranger whose name I didn’t even know! He soon solved that problem for me. Taking the paw off my shoulder, he offered it too me* ~I’m Stone~ *He introduced, as I uncertainly took his paw. His grip was firm, each claw twice the width of mine, and the paw itself could have completely encircled mine*
~Sasha~ *I replied, softly. He smiled, releasing my paw, flicking his long tail* ~Pleasure. Now, come with me – we’ll have to get that lovely fur of yours dried off~ *He winked at me and saunter off in front of me, no giving me any time to protest… or laugh at loud at the very notion that anyone would consider me lovely.
It was a small hill, more of a rise in the plains really. The sun was setting, the low layers of magenta and crimson causing the clouds above to turn a gentle pink. Though it was small, there was a breeze. While it dried my coat, it was rather cold, and my body unconsciously picked up a shiver. Stone sat down beside me, both of us comfortably silent. He didn’t bombard me with questions, or bother me in any way, just seated himself like a big solid guardian at my side.
Our tails touched behind us. He must have felt my shiver, because his thick tail-tip wound itself, so slowly, around mine. It did not stop me shaking, though.
The light faded further, and Stone pressed a large paw tenderly against my shoulder. I lay down, and he lowered his heavier form beside me, his warm thick fur meeting mine. He wrapped the paw over my shoulders, drew me closer to him. No longer able to feel the cold, my eyes started to close. It had been a long, long day, and so long since I’d had slept well. And I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this safe and cared for, curled like a pup in the secure warmth of Stone’s arms, his tail wrapped around mine.
~Stone… I can’t stay, I should…~ *My voice trailed out as he placed the tip of his paw against my lips. I could feel his breath on my ear*
~Shhhh, Sash. You need to sleep. I’m not going to let anything happen. Promise~
*I was so tired. All I wanted to do was hang onto those words, believe in them.
So I did.
He was there when I woke. He was there the next day, after I returned to Santini and then embarked on the next hunting trip. He hunted with me, and we told each other of ourselves. He was a rogue roamer, traveling with his brother who had been injured, and a young green Lupe. His brother, Goast, had been badly injured, and with their companion caring for him, Stone was hunting for all three. Needless to say, he was a better hunter than me. For a month, we hunted together. Our trust in one another grew. I told him about Santini, his moods and antisocialness, how I was nearly killing us both because I wasn’t good enough. He held me close when I told him that, hugging me fiercely*
~Sash, you are without a doubt the most courageous Lupe I’ve ever met. You should see yourself – hardly sleeping, constantly hunting, and giving everything for your brother’s good. You couldn’t be a better sister if you tried~
*We hunted together, and my skills improved a little with his help. Though Stone made about seventy percent of our kills and had three mouths to feed, not two, he insisted we split everything fifty-fifty. He would not have it any other way. Santini and I were managing, because of Stone.
I loved him. Oh, how I loved him. But the time came. His brother Goast was nearly recovered. Santini was impatient, asking me why we hadn’t moved on. A nearby pack had become aware of Santini and I’s plight and sometimes sent a member or two, trying to convince Santini he and I would be better off with them. If it had been me, I would have given them a chance, maybe – but, desperately ashamed of his scarred face, he refused to have anything to do with them. Everything just seemed to escalate. Stone and I had been given a limited time – and it was up. His brother and companion were moving on. Stone would go with them*
~Sash, there isn’t anything I can say…~ *He told me, bright blue eyes lowered. I shook my head* ~No. There isn’t. I hope you travel safely, Stone~ *Turning, I walked away from him. The tears fell, leaving a trail of unhappiness behind me as I left behind the Lupe I loved. He never came after me.
I would probably never get over his loss. Selfish, I know, when I had Santini to think about. It was me brother I returned to, told him we could move off once again. Glad to escape the attentions of the nearby pack, Santini agreed readily. By nightfall we were gone from the little camp I’d set up, leaving no trace behind save our pawprints, waiting to be washed away in the next rains.
But things did not go up from there. After a few weeks I began to sense changes in my body. Santini heard me throwing up in the morning early on a few times, but I told him it was just some bad berries I’d found making me sick. Of course, he never saw the slight swelling of my sides as the months passed. But it was only slight… I hoped the litter was not a large one. The pups would be lucky to survive to their birth, the amount of food I was catching for us. What could I do? Santini could not go without. I had to battle on doing the best I could for my brother and my unborn pups. We came to a halt again, and under the lie to my brother I could not travel for a while because I was sick, we halted out roams.
The little was of three pups. Two of them were stillborn. The oldest of them – a fine big male with scruffy fur somewhere between blue and gray, was the sole survivor. I loved him from first sight. He was so full of life, energetic and carefree, such a little battler, right form the start. Oh, he was a handful! Leaping around everywhere like a mad thing, playfully dancing just out of reach, wandering everywhere and taking on anything from bugs to birds.
I named him Renegade Fighter. And for all my love for him, he presented me with a problem. He needed food.
Santini was in a bad way. I lost my milk after two weeks due to my malnourishment. Which meant all my pitiful catches were being split three ways now. All three of us were suffering.
So, why didn’t I take Renegade to Santini, instead of hiding away in a den half a mile from where I left him each day? It was simple. If I had, Santini never would let Renegade go hungry. He would have starved himself in a second to save my puppy. And while I was doing exactly the same thing, taking far less than was my share of what I found to eat, it wasn’t helping any. Caring for Renegade took time. I would stay with him most of the day and night, telling Santini I was away hunting. Every few hours I returned to Renegade or delivered food to Santini, remembering to take a bathe in a river or pool before I went to Santini – he has a very strong sense of smell and would have realized about Renegade in a second if not.
So, I was forced to make a decision. I had to let Renegade go, and far earlier than I should have. I taught him to hunt – he was far better at it than me – I taught him to look after himself, to fight when the need for defense arose… and when he was just a little over a month old, I left him.
A month. A month-old puppy alone in the world. What had I done? What could I do? Santini was growing weaker and weaker and I – I was hardly in a fit state to walk let alone hunt. So I left my only son and Santini and I went on again.
Two more years we wandered. I never saw a trace of Renegade. Or his father, for that matter. I saw and Santini smelt and heard many great things on my travels, but my heart was no longer in it. I had lost two of the three Lupes I loved. And the third was steadily fading.
So that’s when I asked Santini for something I knew he would hate… I asked for us to join a pack. And I knew the one.
*Skinny, oh so skinny. Impossible that this femme, with her emerald green fur thinning over ribs and hips that stuck out at impossible angles, was pregnant. And more, giving birth.
An unborn creature takes everything – warmth, oxygen, and food – from its mother in the womb. And if the mother cannot supply these to the necessary extent, the body has but one choice: to stop feeding the unborn offspring to preserve itself. Sasha tried. Oh, she tried.
Sasha had carefully chosen a den far away form her brother, so he would not smell anything she did not want him to. It would not do, for him to realize what she had done, how she had failed him. Santini was her responsibility, her job! And yet he was starving, just the same as she.
She found a disused burrow half-way up a mountain. The peak was covered in snow, and although she was well below this, the temperature was still below that a pup could survive. Sasha lined the small den with anything she could lay paw on – dead leaves, moss, grass, her own thinning fur. The pups were born into a warm, secure den, Sasha made sure of it.
But it was to late.
Sasha cried a thousand tears into the russet leaves. She had not meant to get pregnant, let alone when the father could not remain with her and she had to focus all her energies on keeping her brother alive.
But oh, it hurt. To see those tiny, pathetic bundles, huddled still in the warn air swirling around them. She had followed her instincts, she had licked the pups clean and nuzzled them anxiously and urged them to crawl to her belly and feed, take the first life-giving nutrients from her – if she could give them that.
But life had left these tiny baby Lupes. And it hurt, curling around Sasha’s heart and squeezing, in a pain she had never before imagined.
She cried until the whimper, a minuscule, whispered plea for help, reached her ears.
One was alive. He was moving.
Sasha watched him feed hungrily, growing stronger with her milk. She watched him curl at her side, sleepy and content now, completely unaware of the death surrounding them both. But Sasha was aware. Far too aware. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she picked up her pup – clumsily, unsure of herself. He relaxed instinctively in her grasp, reassuring her. Unable to bear the awful, heart-wrenching tragedy behind her, Sasha turned and with her one remaining pup, left the others still in her oh-so-carefully prepared den.
She was miles away, trying to work out how she would feed both the pup, alive and fighting, and her brother, when it happened. Up on the mountain, surrounding by siblings whose life had left them days before birth – the second and final survivor weakly lifted his muzzle and whimpered a near silent plea for food, warmth, and the mother he could not feel.