Blood Moon- Chapter 2

SilverTooth kept up his pace, although he was sure there was something stuck in his paws; it felt like needles driving themselves into the soft, tender pads of his paws.  He slowed to a walk, and then stopped.  He was starting to fall asleep as he travelled.  He shook himself, trying to wake himself back up, and sat down.  He licked his injured pads tenderly and scratched his ear.  Tiny gnats buzzed annoyingly around his head; he swatted them, irritated.  Bored, he stared off into the dim lighted forest; the afternoon sun was growing hazy, the air shimmering with heat.  He found his thoughts wandering again, so he resumed his journey.
         The forest was alive and teeming with sound.  Crows wheeled in the air above the tops of the trees, cawing to each other in their search for carrion.  The thick trees bent in the swift breeze, yielding to its force.  The sunlight shined down through the leaves, tearing through the breaks in the canopy and casting its light down onto the forest floor.  Twigs and stray branches crunched and snapped under SilverTooth’s paws; scents of sap and earth flooded his nose.  Animals observed him; squirrels in their hollowed out trees, birds that twittered among the tree limbs, rabbits in their burrows, and many more.  He smirked, knowing they feared him for being a predator, and increased his pace. 
         The day wore on without much event; except the scent of water growing more and more present in the air around him.  His heart beat faster; it relieved him to know he was nearly at the River.  He turned around a large tree, and the rushing of the Black River flooded his ears as the sensation of floating suddenly clouded his mind.  He bounded forward, despite the pain that came from moving his limbs too much; excitement spiked in his mind.  He gauged the distance between him and the river with his lightning fast reflexes.  Suddenly, a wave of nausea passed over him and a new scent assaulted his senses.  He halted in mid-step, the fur on his back rising as he glanced around suspiciously.  The smell tickled his nose in familiarity, but it was hardly a comfort.  He slid down and crept over the ground soundlessly, keeping to the dim shadow of the pines trees.  His ears swiveled around, trying to catch any noise around him.  A low growl sounded from behind him.  SilverTooth froze.  He sensed tension.  A dark shape launched itself at him, SilverTooth leapt away and ducked to the soil, just barely escaping the attack.  Leering amber eyes glimmered at him from a face of black fur.  Somehow, they seemed to stick out in his memory.  SilverTooth stood up.
         “BlackMuzzle, is that you, brother?” SilverTooth chanced; his voice a whisper.  The snarl disappeared from the Wolf’s face, the eyes lit up.  The Wolf stood up and faced SilverTooth, taking in the features of his fellow.
         “SilverTooth, where have you been?” BlackMuzzle asked; his face breaking out into a smile and his bushy tail wagging excitedly.  The brothers touched nose and circled each other happily.  BlackMuzzle sat promptly and gave himself a little shake.  “You scared me there for a moment, brother.  I was afraid you were someone dangerous.” SilverTooth laughed.
         “I was thinking the same about you!” He grinned.  After SilverTooth’s fear had dissipated, he remembered that he was getting hungry.  He expressed this to his brother, “BlackMuzzle, is there any meat around here? I’m starving!” BlackMuzzle nodded and got to his feet.
         “When was the last time you ate?” He wondered.  SilverTooth shrugged, batting one ear with a paw to make the fly buzzing there leave.  BlackMuzzle rolled his eyes and sighed.  They were silent for a moment before BlackMuzzle’s features brightened.  “Oh, brother, before you leave, I want to bring you to my den.” SilverTooth smiled.
         “I’d like that.  But for now, I want to eat,” SilverTooth whined. 
         “Alright, SilverTooth, it’s clear your appetite hasn’t changed; I bet there’s something at the den.  Let’s go,” compromised BlackMuzzle.  SilverTooth nodded and followed his brother as he started walking through the trees.  SilverTooth envied his brother’s choice of habitat; the lush, bright woodlands that circled his den site and the cool banks of the river that were nearby.  It was perfect, or very close to it. 
         “So, SilverTooth, where have you been for so long? We thought the worst when we didn’t hear from you,” BlackMuzzle said.  SilverTooth twitched his ears lazily forward and turned his attention back to his brother.
         “I’ve been trying to find White Peak; Black River was supposed to be my second landmark for the trail,” SilverTooth replied.  “I’m on a mission for the Council.” BlackMuzzle rolled his eyes and stopped in the trail, giving SilverTooth a skeptical look.  Of all SilverTooth's siblings, BlackMuzzle had the worst reaction when he’d heard news of SilverTooth’s summons to the Grove.
         “You’re not a pup anymore, SilverTooth.  You’ve got to stop chasing the tall tales and move on.  You know, find a mate and settle down,” he responded.  SilverTooth shook his head. 
         “I can’t turn back now…” SilverTooth paused, letting his sentence trail off.  He trusted his brother completely, but he wondered to what degree his brother would take his objective.  He finally gave in.  “Brother, I’ve been chosen by the Council to bring this,” SilverTooth gestured down to the Charm, “to White Peak before the Blood Moon.” BlackMuzzle’s eyes grew wide in surprise.
         “The Council of Elders put you, my little brother, in charge of that?! This is a big responsibility!” BlackMuzzle’s voice hinted at anger and a twinge of jealously.  He shrugged and nodded.
         “They seem to believe I’m able to handle it,” remarked SilverTooth with a sneer.  BlackMuzzle’s eyes narrowed. 
         “Well, if they trust you, then I suppose everything’s fine,” BlackMuzzle commented, dropping the subject.  The sable Wolf resumed walking down the trail; stopping every once and a while to observe and sniff boundary lines to check if they were still intact.  Soon, they entered a sheltered glade, and the heavy scent of Wolf passed over the two; the same scents SilverTooth recognized from his pup hood. 
         BlackMuzzle’s den was in the junction of where two tall hills met, dug into the fertile and soft dirt.  Tiny furry bodies, about two months old, gathered around a she-Wolf standing alertly at the entrance of the tunnel.  The pups yipped happily, speaking in pups’ speak, as their father returned to them.  BlackMuzzle nuzzled them gentle, glad to feel their soft fur against his face.  SilverTooth’s other two sisters, also of his brother’s pack, emerged from the large open entrance of the den to see why the pups were making such a ruckus.  QuickPaw, the mother of the pups, remained at the entrance; keeping vigil watch over her young with gentle jade eyes.  The pups whined and nipped lightly at her slate gray fur with newly emerging teeth, and begging for her attention.  She sniffed them and nosed them playfully in return, the dark slash of fur across her nose contrasting sharply with the lighter tone of her fur.  HawkEye, nearly BlackMuzzle’s double with her sable pelt, and LongClaw, QuickPaw’s actual twin sister, greeted him with shining eyes and sniffing noses, the same warmness he had remembered; they hadn’t changed at all in his eyes.
         “Well, my brother, you certainly grew up quite a bit in these long months!” HawkEye laughed; shaking her head to settle her jet black fur and shifting her feet back and forth as she observed him with her red-tinted, amber eyes; making her look predatory like a hawk, hence her name. 
SilverTooth grinned and glanced towards the den where QuickPaw and her pups were playing, glad to see his siblings were happy, for the most part.
Yet, LongClaw’s eyes narrowed and she shot him a look of pure envy to see his coat shimmering in the sunlight; but her glance faltered when QuickPaw flashed her fangs in SilverTooth’s defense. Only one small detail made QuickPaw different from her sister, and it was the darker fur marring her muzzle and part of her face; this trait was absent from LongClaw’s face.  QuickPaw would tell no one how she had come to get the mark, but it was clearly a secret, for she avoided the subject whenever possible. 
         Unawares of the silent battle, SilverTooth attempted conversation. “Only five pups this time, brother?” SilverTooth inquired, cocking his head to the side and beaming.  BlackMuzzle jostled him playfully, and thought a moment before answering.
         “Well, LongClaw didn’t take and HawkEye refused me, so yes.  Only five this year,” he joked.  He was about to continue the humorous sentence, but his voice caught in his throat.  In a bitter and tearful voice, as he bowed his head closer to one of SilverTooth’s ears, he explained.  “We had seven, but one was severely crippled.  We felt so bad letting the poor thing suffer.  And, the other was taken by a mountain cat.  I nearly lost my life trying to get it back, and poor QuickPaw…her nerves were shattered and she cried for days,” he said solemnly.  SilverTooth lowered his head out of respect for the dead.
         He whispered softly, “I’m so sorry.” He met his half-brother’s teary eyes.  BlackMuzzle looked away; the silence grew uncomfortable rapidly.  LongClaw cleared her throat and broke the quiet.
         “I see you have a rather interesting occupation on your paws,” she half asked, half told him. 
SilverTooth unconsciously glanced down at the Charm as it dangled from his neck.
         “I suppose so.  What does it mean? The Elders didn’t really explain anything to me,” he questioned, directing the inquiry to all of them in general, hoping one of them knew.  They turned away and deliberately ignored the question.  Instead, HawkEye invaded the silence.
         “Come, we need to fetch dinner.  We can exchange our tales by the light of the stars and moon, but not when things need to be done!” She snapped at them but laugh afterwards, making sure they knew it was only a jest.  She sent them off after a brief description of what they needed; HawkEye and BlackMuzzle left to find the day’s kill, even though it was small; LongClaw departed to dig up meat in the pack’s cache a few miles away, and SilverTooth went to fish for some salmon. 
         SilverTooth happily trotted along the river bank as he searched for a shallow spot in the water.  Spotting one in the near center of the river, he jumped in; the cool water splashed around him, sparkling in the sun.  He stuck his muzzle into the water and drank and few draughts of the frigid water; as he lifted his face from the water, the liquid dripping from his black lips, he saw a perfect fishing spot.  The river narrowed into a little waterfall where the fish were unable to fight the increasing current and fell into a deep pool surrounded by rocks and sandbars.  SilverTooth gauged the distance between the rocks and hopped over to a rather flat one by the pool.  The damp rock felt good under his paws, and the spongy moss tickled his pads.  The scent of water was all around; the river babbled and trickled over the stones as water bugs skated the surface with spindly legs. 
         The rosy fish swam in the pool at SilverTooth’s paws, fins flapping with little effort in the now calm waters.  Their large eyes bugged from their heads as they surveyed their new surroundings and their mouths opened and closed in synchronized motions with their gills twitching.  SilverTooth scrutinized them for a few moments, eyeing a large one; he lunged and grabbed the fish that was swimming by him in the more shallow area near a bank.  He clenched his teeth over it, just enough to stun it, but not enough to kill it yet.  He laid it down on the rock next to him where it couldn’t flop back into the water and resumed his fishing.  Another fish caught his eyes; this one was several paw lengths larger than the one he had just caught.  He licked his chops eagerly.  But as his mind calculated the variables, he realized that it was too far away at the moment; disappointed, he sat back on his haunches to wait. 
He pondered his reunion with his siblings; despite his accomplishments, they still treated him as a pup in his first fur.  It angered him that his brother had been coddled and protected his whole life, all because he came first. SilverTooth’s pack had allowed his brother’s failures and mistakes to slip by unnoticed, while SilverTooth’s was ridiculed at the slightest problem.  And as he thought further, he realized how his siblings still acted so warmly toward him, even though they had clearly sided with the pack and against him! He grumbled to himself and let out a long sigh, his mind buzzing with activity.
            A sudden splash brought his attention back to the water, and the fish he was supposed to be catching.  The salmon had paddled its way up to the glassy surface for oxygen and when swimming back down to the silky, silt-covered bottom, the fish had broken the water’s surface.  Swiftly, SilverTooth darted forward to the edge of the rock and snapped his jaws over the thin membrane of the fish’s tail just before it disappeared into the pool’s inky depths.  The fish struggled and thrashed in the water as SilverTooth withdrew his muzzle from the water.  Placing a paw over the fish, SilverTooth readjusted his grip so his teeth were around the fish’s body instead of its tail.  He tightened his grip and the fish went limp in his mouth.  Satisfied, SilverTooth snatched up the other fish he’d caught and triumphantly loped back to the den. 
         The bright moon was just rising over the shadow of the snow-tipped White Peak, casting cool shadows on the ground where SilverTooth padded through.  As SilverTooth neared the den, he heard the protestant squeals of the pups as QuickPaw tried to settle them down for bed.  At the sound of his footsteps, he spied QuickPaw’s head jerk up and her eyes squint as she spotted him across the clearing.  A smile brushed her face, and SilverTooth couldn’t help but smile in return as he loped over to her. He set the two fish down by the entrance of the shady and cool den and lay down, half inside of the den, half out in the fresh air.
QuickPaw took a quick glance at her brother as she finished shooing the pups away.  His eyes were distant, and his gaze was set somewhere beyond the tree line.  QuickPaw noted his troubled expression and tenderly nudged him with the tip of her nose.
         “I know how you feel, SilverTooth,” she said softly, grabbing his attention as he looked at her directly.  “Just because I’m a twin doesn’t automatically mean that I’ve bonded more with my siblings.  To be honest, the only reason I came with BlackMuzzle and consented to be his mate is because I couldn’t stand to live with the others.  All those half-grown pups, not even hunters yet, trying to win me over with some under-thought courting display! The thought of it makes me sick!” She shouted.
SilverTooth’s ears shot back in instinctive defense. 
QuickPaw sighed and lowered her voice, noticing his involuntary reaction.  “I just don’t understand how IronFurr sees the pack without the problems troubling him.”
Hearing such an outburst from his normally calm and collected sister gave SilverTooth a shock.  It was apparent that all her bottled up fury was finally being let loose.  He chose his next words with care, speaking slowly and softly, unable to meet her gaze. 
            “My sister, I have never known anyone to hate with such a passion.  What has caused this outbreak?” He whispered, fixing his eyes on the dirt.  There was a brief pause.  SilverTooth wasn’t sure she was going to answer him.  But when she did, the volume of her luminous voice was something below a whisper.  SilverTooth perked his ears forward to hear her speak.
            “SilverTooth, brother, I know who killed Mother,” she said.  She hesitated, unsure if she should continue, but upon seeing the encouragement from her brother, continued nonetheless. “You wouldn’t remember; you weren’t raised with the rest of our litter.  But I know.  I was there.
            “It was the night of a false Blood Moon, exactly one year, eleven months, and three weeks ago.  As you know by now, the true Blood Moon only occurs once every century on the night of Midsummer’s Eve.  We DreamWeavers believe the false showing was a preview, an omen, of what was to come.  Unfortunately, I had no knowledge of any of this at that time; therefore I could not do my duty.  To continue, Mother told BlackMuzzle and me to go hunt mice by the berry bushes at the spring.  She said she was busy and didn’t want us to get into trouble while she was gone.  After a while, BlackMuzzle ate too many mice and fell asleep.  And I was about to go to sleep too, until I heard yelling coming from the other side of the spring.  And being the curious pup I was then, I went to see who it was making so much noise.
         “Mother told BlackMuzzle and me to go hunt mice by the berry bushes at the spring.  She said she was busy and didn’t want us to get into trouble while she was gone.  After a while, BlackMuzzle ate too many mice and fell asleep.  And I was about to go to sleep too, until I heard yelling coming from the other side of the spring.  And being the curious pup I was then, I went to see who it was making so much noise.
            “It turns out it was Mother and Father.  Mother was well into pregnancy with her third litter, and Father thought that IronFurr was the sire.  Obviously Mother denied his accusation, but it was unclear to me at the time that she was telling the truth.  When Father stormed off into the woods, angry as a disturbed hornet, Mother stayed; waiting.  Not too long after, a two-leg came from the thick brush and ruffled up her fur.  She licked it, like they were familiar, and she barked.  Not like a Wolf bark…she barked like those strange animals that are, but are not, Wolf.  Then suddenly, it stepped away from her and began changing.  It started to grow massively, sprouting black fur and enormous claws.  It was this large Wolf-like creature that stood on two legs, with the odd two-leg scent.  I heard it howl at her, loud and eerie like a loon’s call.  It sniffed her angrily and began to snarl and growl.  I couldn’t understand most of what they were saying, but Mother was crying something about being sorry.  She tried to reason with it, but I saw a flash of fur and fangs and smelled blood.  Mother lay still on the ground, and the creature left.  But to this day I can still smell that foul stench mingling with the sour scent of death.  Frightened, of course, I crossed the spring and licked her; trying to wake her up as I would do at the den.  But she wouldn’t wake, and I ended up swallowing some of her blood that was infected with the creature’s essence.  You remember the story I told you about that?” She asked, taking a breath. 
SilverTooth nodded, so immersed in the story that he dared not interrupt for fear of disrupting the images flowing into his mind; but now that she’d stopped for a moment, he knew he was allowed to speak. “Wasn’t that when you were granted your DreamWeaving powers?” He wondered aloud. 
She shrugged.          “I suppose that’s what it was.  At least, that would explain the sudden rush of memories and knowledge that wasn’t my own,” she smiled slightly, and then her smile disappeared.  “Well, the next day, IronFurr brought her back and told the pack she’d been killed by a mountain cat.  I knew what had happened, but knew no one would believe me.  I was just so scared…” her voice trailed off, ending the pictures in SilverTooth’s mind as she relayed her memory to his own. 
“So, if this is the first time you’ve ever told anyone, why now? You know Mother’s death meant little to me, I wasn’t raised by her anyway,” he questioned, quite confused.  QuickPaw sighed and rolled her eyes.
            “I understand, but that’s not the point, SilverTooth.  When the creature ran off, I heard it talking to itself before it got out of my hearing range.  It said something about, ‘mates are never faithful for long.’”
SilverTooth’s ears shot back again. “What does that mean? ‘Mates are never faithful’? Do you think the creature that killed Mother had a mate?” SilverTooth exclaimed incredulously.
QuickPaw shook her head. “No, I think it was something worse.  I believe Mother was to be his mate, but he found out that Mother was already pregnant,” she remarked, frowning at her conclusion. 
            “Either that, or she was with Alpha IronFurr because she didn’t want to be his mate,” SilverTooth reasoned, thinking deeply.
QuickPaw nodded, and was about to reply when high-pitched yipping sounded from the burrow. 
            “Ah, seems I’m needed elsewhere.  Want to see the pups?” She offered, getting to her feet.
SilverTooth smiled and followed her down the burrow where the five furry bodies lay nestled in one pile of soft and warm fur.  Their senses might still have been weak, but they scrambled over to her the second they realized she was there.  SilverTooth watched in adoration as QuickPaw lay on the ground and the pups fought their way to her and began to suckled greedily, emitting muffled yips and squeals.  Two of the pups were a shade of gray similar to slate, and two were the darker shade of gray that their mother shared.  One of them, however, was the same sable tone as BlackMuzzle.  QuickPaw nuzzled the pups lovingly as they excitedly whimpered and whined, speaking to her the only way they knew how.
“Have you named them yet?” He questioned, trying not to disturb the pups by speaking softly.  QuickPaw grinned and leaned closer to him.
            “That black one, the boy, is called DarkFang.  This light gray, over there, is a girl named GraySky.  The other lighter gray one is a boy called SteelTail.  The two darker ones are both girls and their names are CloudMane, the one with the greenish eyes, and StarlitEyes, the one that has the more amber eyes. What do you think?” She said, gesturing to them the best she could with her nose as she called their name.  They glanced up at her as they recognized their name, but when no command, warning or comment was directed at them, they resumed eating with renewed vigor. 
            “They’re beautiful, sister,” SilverTooth replied with pride.  The pups continued to drink for several more minutes before one by one collapsing into a pile of warm fur, their bellies full of milk.  Seeing QuickPaw with the pups brought back SilverTooth back the very dim memories of his own mother. 
“QuickPaw, why didn’t Mother want to take care of me?” He whispered, attempting to make sense of his blurred memories. 
QuickPaw shifted over and sleepily looked up at him. “I’m not sure, SilverTooth.  We weren’t her first litter, but I don’t think she was ready to take care of us all at once,” she said vaguely, giving him a gentle shove.
            “I would have understood if we were her first litter; since many of the females in our pack had trouble raising their first litters.  But that’s not what I mean,” he started.
QuickPaw’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face. “What are you suggesting?” She asked. 
He grimaced, his ears flicking back in defense. “Well, she seemed to the rest of the pup pack just fine; it seemed that she ignored me,” he told her, glancing away nervously. 
She sighed, giving his cheek a comforting lick. “I think you’re just being paranoid, brother.  Mother loved us all equally, and so does the rest of the pack.  Just because Father blames you for Mother’s death doesn’t make it true,” she reasoned. 
She hadn’t directly answered his question, but somehow the answer satisfied him.  He nodded; QuickPaw always had a way of making his heart feel lighter.  He laid his head onto his crossed legs and closed his eyes, feeling at home among the familiar scents of his family.  He was almost asleep when, in the distance, branches crashed and the sounds of pounding footfalls shook the den.  SilverTooth leapt to his feet and bounded up the burrow and into the exterior portion of the den.  QuickPaw followed behind him, a sneer set into her face as she protectively blocked the pups. BlackMuzzle’s form came into view with HawkEye at his heels.  SilverTooth relaxed, but only slightly.
            “What happened, is everyone okay?!” He asked, seeing their frightened expressions and shaking limbs. 
            “Something tried to attack us! We barely got away because we came upon it from behind!” BlackMuzzle shouted, trying to catch his breath as he danced around in circles in panic.
            “It was huge! At first we thought it was a bear, but it was much too tall.  And we knew it wasn’t a mountain cat because it was too muscular.  You won’t believe this, but it smelled like Wolf!” LongClaw explained, coming out of the bushes, running much slower than the others had been. 
SilverTooth saw the reason; a tangle of bramble vines encircling her leg.  Blood had congealed on her fur where the sharp points had ripped her skin. SilverTooth’s and QuickPaw’s gazes met, and QuickPaw ran to assist her sister.
            When their wits were gathered, they went into the forest and recovered the food they’d dropped after spotting the strange beast.  They dragged it into the entrance of the den where they were sheltered, because none of them wanted to be in the vulnerable open.
         LongClaw surveyed SilverTooth’s troubled eyes as she picked a bit of meat off a bone she’d been chewing on.  He had barely touched his portion of the food, and now stared off at the wall of mountain with a blank look, his head bowed.  She had remembered his younger days, always being mischievous and angering their father with tricks; he had seemed so full of spirit and energy.  He appeared dead compared to then.  Even his silky coat, once shimmering in the stray moonbeams, had grown dull along with his eyes.  LongClaw met QuickPaw’s piercing glance, as though they were speaking without words.  SilverTooth felt the tension and picked up his head.  His siblings shrugged closer to the walls of the den as though they were frightened of him. 
         “SilverTooth, is there something wrong? You seem worried,” LongClaw wondered, her eyes grazing his outline as she was unable to look at his face.  His eyes flickered back and forth and she could see the wheels in his mind turning as he returned his intent gaze back to the ground.  His voice, when it finally came, was quiet. 
         “I don’t know what will happen if I fail.  I’ve heard dreadful tales of Wolves like myself who’ve accepted this… responsibility… and have never returned.  What is the truth, and why is everyone so… so scared of me?” His whispered; his last words nothing but a breathy sigh.  QuickPaw opened her mouth, and then shut it with a barely audible click.  She swallowed her sharp words quickly, realizing that to scold her brother would not comfort him; and her words were filled with something she knew she would regret.  SilverTooth cast QuickPaw a concerned glance, and QuickPaw lifted her head to gaze at the stars.
         “Oh, brother, it’s not about you,” she began.  QuickPaw stood up and faced the group.  Her expression grew solemn as she dug deeply into her DreamWeaver knowledge.  The Wolves looked up at her in adoration of her skill, eyes glowing with eagerness; they had always loved her stories.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let me tell you the true tale of this ancient tradition, and of the amulet you wear.” For a moment, the only sound was the night bugs chirping, and the squeals of bats up above.  Then, QuickPaw tipped her head back and howled, sending chills down her siblings’ spines.  Her eyes opened, and words poured from her mouth as she cited.
         “It began many, many years ago.  The first Wolf packs roamed the beautiful land, worry-free and always with a full belly.  There was nothing that could harm them.  But soon, the first Evil arose, terrorizing their lands.  It killed prey for fun and diminished the herds to dangerously low numbers.  At first, the Wolves were able to outrun the Evil, fleeing to deserted and distant lands where the Evil couldn’t follow.  But it trailed them, tracked them, to those places and cornered them, smothering the life of the Wolves as it held their existence in its filthy grasp.  One by one, it devoured them and tortured them until only a few were left: the Wolves of the Council.  Using their last bits of strength, they fled to Spirit’s Summit, now called White Peak, and used the power of our patron spirits to banish it to its humble beginnings.
         “It never showed its face again, but the often strange occurrences on Spirit’s Summit ever since have made the Wolves wary of the Evil’s return.  To satisfy its need to feed on Wolves or precious herds, the Council sent a young Wolf to the top of the mountain on the Blood Moon night, whether it was true or false.  Unbeknownst to the Council, the Evil regained its power, becoming more and more Wolf-like with every victim. 
         “Each of these unfortunate Wolves held a Charm that would strike the final blow to the Evil and seal it away forever in hope that one of them would hold the power to complete the task; but only if they were the correct one, the chosen one.  However, none knew of the task they were set to.  It marked them for life, for if they did return, they would wear it for eternity to show they had braved the Evil.  But none made it back alive.
         “There was a prophet named TruthHeart, an ancestor of the first Wolves, who told of a strange beast.  This beast was like the Evil, but would assist the correct Wolf in defeating the Evil.  A DreamWeaver of later years said the chosen one’s markings would show under the light of the Blood Moon when he came of age, but he did not specify as to what the markings would be. 
“All those who possessed the Sight to foretell future events agreed on several things: the path to the Evil would not be easy; it was filled with predators and pitfalls that could kill the young Wolf before he even reached the mountain.  The Evil knew how to twist the minds of the innocent until they went mad, killing their own kind and breaking all decree.  The mages and DreamWeavers listened to the pleas of the broken packs, knowing how to prevent the Evil from detecting their dens.  They were the only ones who could stop the Evil, if only for a short time.  They said a chant:
         “One whom wakes in the night,
         Save us from the fright.
         This one who roams
         And leaves naught but bones.
         One whom wakes in the night,
         Howl loud to bring the light!”

Here she paused; her eyes alight with the intensity of emotion.  SilverTooth’s expression mirrored deep thought. 
         “So, the only way to defeat this Evil is to be the chosen one, and call up the spirits for help?” He inquired, glancing up at QuickPaw for an answer.  She nodded curtly and continued her tale.
         “They would repeat this chant many times to bring the good spirits, their patrons, to their aid and protect them.  Those old traditions have been lost for years, and the only one that has remained is to send a troublesome and daring young Wolf to the top of White Peak on the night of Blood Moon.  They haven’t even remembered the reason they are sent there; to stop the Evil from destroying the race of Wolves completely.  But until the Evil is gone, it will continue to feed of the unaware Wolves and the small pups who venture too far from their mother’s watchful gaze.  This is the will of the spirits, our punishment for abusing our race so,” QuickPaw’s voice faded and a chill crept up SilverTooth’s spine.  She stared into his eyes and gave him the slightest bow of her head.  He slowly closed his eyes; tears formed but did not fall.  He stood with head down and tail low; he knew he had to leave.  A comforting whisper from his siblings fell into his ears as he left the den, words spoken in unison.
         “Good luck, my brother.”