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For a while they all hung out, until the white wolf-dog began to feel hungry. Turning to Willow, he asked affectionately, “Do you need food?”

Willow responded enthusiastically: “Oh, heavens… yes. I had forgotten about that; I need to eat well if I’m to produce quality food for our pups.”

He stood up and dipped his head, acknowledging what needed to be done. “Very well. I’ll return shortly.”

Bruno called after him: “You be careful out there! Don’t let the pack see you, or you’re done for.”

The fox hybrid had overheard his conversation with Luna, so he was very much up to date on everything.

“I won’t!” Finbar called back.

Behind him, he could hear Willow and Bruno chatting back and forth; it was nice to know she had a good friend.

He needed to do this to support his family. If it had just been him that was hungry, he would have waited and ignored the pain of his hunger which settled in his stomach like an uncomfortable bloat. His mate needed food, which would subsequently go to his daughters and son, and that wasn’t something that Finbar felt he could or should neglect.

The feral wolf-dog walked quietly through the misty woods, colors of muted jade and blues enveloping all around him in the form of leaves, bushes, branches and thick undergrowth. The rains would sufficiently help the world rebuild itself after the harsh winter that had sent it into dormancy, and it was already quite evident, too; the places where Finbar had been able to fit through during the snow season had been barricaded up with foliage, making travel difficult.

Thorns and branches would often stick him in the side, and leaves would brush against his face, blocking his vision half the time. It was good, however, for camouflage if he played his cards right. The current lighting, as well, would aid him in staying hidden from any member of Willow’s pack if they were out in this part of the forest. His white fur was hard to conceal in most environments, but something about the moody morning helped greatly.

Blended like paint into the landscape, covered by the underbrush, Finbar carefully stalked the mountainside for a meal or two. In a dewy meadow full of colorful wildflowers sprouting up in patches here and there, the new father spotted a dull gray rabbit nibbling on clovers.

Finbar crept low to the ground, every muscle tensed as he stalked closer to the rabbit. His focus narrowed, blocking out the world except for the small creature ahead of him. This was for Willow and the pups. His hunger gnawed at him, but his drive to provide was stronger.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Just as he was about to pounce, a sharp rustling sound broke the silence, making him freeze. His instincts screamed at him, and he turned his head to the side just in time to see three large wolves stepping out from the cover of the trees. Their coats were thick and intimidating, their eyes fixed on him with unwavering intensity.

How had they seen him?

Oh, who was he kidding? They had been born here, they were born wild; their skill had been ingrained in them since before they could open their eyes. Finbar on the other hand was nothing more than a guest in their mountain, having been admonished with luxury his entire life until a few months ago when he’d been abandoned.

He felt his heart race; these weren’t just any wolves. They were massive, well-fed members of Willow’s pack, their powerful bodies moving with practiced coordination. The lead wolf, a towering gray male with a scar running across his muzzle, stepped forward, his lip curled in a silent snarl.

"Tsk, tsk. What do we have here?" the gray wolf rumbled, his voice low and dangerous. "An outsider wandering in our territory?"

He stood and walked out of the bushes, putting himself out there, an act of honor and humility before his mate’s pack. Finbar's muscles tightened, but he kept his posture as non-threatening as possible, his tail and head low.

"I'm just here for food," he said, his voice steady despite the tension. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"For food?" The gray wolf's eyes darkened, and he advanced closer, very dominantly. "You're trespassing, outsider. The Alpha doesn’t tolerate outsiders near our pack. Do you not know proper wolf etiquette? You could have howled to let us know of your presence before entering."

Finbar took a step back, his eyes darting around for an escape, but the other wolves closed in, cutting off any possible retreat. "I'm not here to challenge anyone," Finbar said carefully, and slowly, choosing his words wisely. "I'm just trying to provide for my family."

"Family?" one of the other wolves, a brown-and-silver female with cutting yellow eyes, sneered. "A rogue like you has no place in our pack’s lands. Whatever claim you think you have, it ends now."

Finbar's fur bristled in unease as he felt the weight of their animosity pressing in. His heart sank low; he knew he couldn't win in a fight against three strong wolves from Willow’s pack, nor would he want to fight them anyway if he could at all avoid it. They viewed him as an intruder, a threat to their territory, even if his intentions were pure; it is not like they would believe him, though, not yet.

"I'm not your enemy," Finbar said through gritted teeth, stressed beyond what he thought he was capable of handling. “I'm only here because Willow—”

"Willow?" The gray wolf interrupted, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. "Hah! So you are who we’re looking for. Finbar. You think claiming our High Lady’s affection gives you a free pass to roam wherever you please?" He snarled, stepping even closer, his breath hot against Finbar’s face. "You're lucky we don't rip you apart right here."

The depth of the lead wolf’s snout scars intimidated him further, showing that this male was not afraid to fight and to kill if he had to, for every scar told a story.

The brown-and-silver female wolf moved closer, her growl deep and menacing, white fangs flashing like the foam on river crests. "You’re coming with us, wolf-dog."

Finbar's mind dashed in circles as he tried to figure out how to talk his way out of this situation. The tension in the air was palpable as he stood surrounded by the three wolves. He knew he was outmatched.. There was no way out. The pack wolves of Isolation Mountain, trained and disciplined, had their mind set on apprehending him.

Before Finbar could react, the gray wolf lunged, knocking him off balance. Finbar hit the ground with a thud, the air forced out of his lungs. He struggled to stand, but the other two wolves were already on him. The female wolf clamped her jaws around his scruff, pinning him down. Her grip was firm, but not meant to draw blood—yet. It was clear they intended to take him alive.

"Stay down, outsider," she growled in his ear, her voice full of disdain.