Stories of the Welfpack

Chapter 3

And it was true. Half a moon after the male was born, a female with the unique traits of this pack was born to the pale female’s relative. No more than two moons afterward, was when their Alpha decided it was time to move.

It was the black male who strode quietly into the dens where the females tended their young – separately, no female wanted another’s presence – guarding her pups lives from any higher-ranked females. It was their way, but it was fading with this large pack. The male wouldn’t normally be welcome, but the cubs had started to come out on their own, already. Their legs were a bit wobbly but both the male and female cubs seemed far more interested in following him out of their den, than they were even in their mother’s milk.

**This cub will come with me,** was all he said to the mothers, and though they had no way of knowing how to react, they allowed this incursion into their dens, their minds. He was the first among them to use a power beyond sending thoughts: a coersive nudge that allowed his presence at all, let alone the theft of cubs.

Even though he was seen, scented, even greeted by other wolves from the packs along the way, not one of them challenged the big male. And not just because he was bigger than almost every one of them: but because they simply avoided thinking about doing so.

The cubs followed the black male into the hills, up by the overlook. They were exhausted by the time they made it to the little pack’s nook, and both females eagerly took to them. It was natural that they expected themselves to be able to nurse the cubs at all – and magical that they did. It took a day or so, but both females helped their adopted cubs thrive.

There were no other births for the large packs, at least none that they knew of. When the cubs were big enough to be in motion – like their litter mates in the valley below – the pack knew it was time to move out.

But where? It was a subject that they brought up with one another constantly, and had yet to establish a good answer.

It was the sly one, the grey male who suggested, **Why don’t we just start moving. We will be able to find our way back, whether we go north or east or wherever.**

**Let us skirt the forest,** the elder female said, **The streams are clear, and there are no Humans there yet.**

**And we can come back through the forest, if we must,** The Alpha pondered. **Yes, let’s just go. So long as there is game and water, we can continue.**

**We will know when we get there,** the younger female announced.

They headed south east, toward the massive forest, where the land was broken by cliffs and sudden canyons. It wasn’t the easiest of travel, but by the time the cubs were old enough to understand who they were, they were also strong enough to survive in such a land.

Winter was coming, when they decided to settle briefly in a canyon that held plentiful snakes. The snakes were of no danger to the wolves, particularly now that they were creeping into their holes to hibernate. They made good, easy eating, even the young pair could pull out a snake for their meal.

When the snows covered this land, it was much colder than in their old home. Fewer trees along the canyon walls meant almost every surface was covered in snow. But they endured this Winter because they knew it would make them stronger for it.

Indeed, when they gathered together for warmth, as a group of eight they thought strongly. Their dreams mingled. The young male, red with a black marking on his forehead, happened to ask something odd. They’d never really thought about it before.

**What do we call each other?** He put into direct thought what they’d been missing.

The black male gave a mental shrug. **You often call me Black. That is my name.**

**Your ear is notched,** the elder female said to the Alpha, **Your name is Notch.**

**Your – sister’s – child,** Notch bespoke broadly but regarding the pale female’s niece, unsure of the word to use not just because they had not used it before but also because he didn’t honestly know whether they were full littermates or not, **is an unusual patchwork of color, let her name be Patch.**

The females giggled mentally, they liked that one. Patch herself (indeed a mottling of yellow, brown and black) was rather sleepy, but her mind flitted around the grey male’s more often than not. **You are very sly when you hunt and when you sing to us,** she pronounced of him, **Sly is your name.**

**It certainly is,** he replied. If he’d been more an elf, he would have winked at her.

**Your feet are black as tar,** spoke the Omega to the elder female, **I think your name should be Tarfoot.** She had no objection, which surprised almost everyone.

**And if he’s Black,** the youngest male thought, **I think you should be Red.** He called the Omega out, and that one even gave a little yip of joy. He wasn’t sure he’d be named, after all.

The pale female mentally nodded to the cub, **You have a mark on your nose, it’s like a star only dark. Star will be your name.**

**Then what is yours?** Her niece – Patch – asked, mentally tilting her head.

**Beehive,** Notch declared, confusing the two cubs but definitely being understood by the adults, **always buzzing.**

Satisfied with those names, the group slept soundly. It would take some getting used to, names weren’t things that wolves needed between one another. They used scent, the sound of a howl, the color of a tail. But … these weren’t wolves. They had found that with each passing moon, they needed more.

Thankfully, the star-song gave them more questions, even as it fed their hunger for answers.