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Mt. Isolation, White Mountain National Forest, New Hampshire. The spring of early May, 2021.
The gray mists of pre-existence gave way to the warm colors of birth. Air filled his lungs, marking the start of his life. He did not know very much, only his instincts telling him to find his mother’s teat for milk. He desperately crawled over his siblings, pushing and pulling, whining and crying.
Completely helpless and blind.
When time passed, it was fuzzy and unimportant; all he cared about was the warmth and comfort that Mother gave him. The only clarity he needed was the love he received daily, whether it be by his mother licking to bathe him or by napping happily after a meal.
One day, the wolf pup opened his eyes and could see the beautiful world around him. Green trees, vibrant grass, and a secure wooden den; Mother was never allowed to leave, kept inside snugly by rusted metal bars. They made him feel safe.
“My little boy,” Mother whispered lovingly to him. “Do you know your name? I have called you Finbar. It means ‘white furred’ in my ancestral tongue.”
‘I’m Finbar!’ the male pup thought, over the moon. He whined playfully.
Mother licked his face. “Your brothers are called Rory, Liam, Keegan, Boru and Rian. Your sisters are Ferelith, and Morag.”
He would remember those names for the rest of his life, as well as their distinct appearances. Rory–light brown with red and white, Liam–silver with brown accents, Keegan–white with gray, Boru–beige with darker highlights, Rian–dark brown with gold, Ferelith–tan with white, and finally Morag–gray with white and brown accents.
Mother herself was white furred like him, sporting a pair of lovely golden eyes as deep and rich in hue as aspen trees.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Finbar and his family would play and laugh together, bonding. Despite never being able to run far, only in circles around the safe wooden den, he felt complete; what else could he possibly want in life? He was fed, given water, and was surrounded by his family.
Thunder cracked above and rain began to pour down in buckets. His mother became uneasy and grumbled. The pups huddled against her for warmth and for relief from anxiety; they did not know what was going on. The sounds of barking and snarls filled the white wolf pup’s ears, fear ensnaring his heart for the first time. He wanted to hide, to disappear, to make it stop.
Mother let out of a low-pitched snarl and bit at the wooden door. Humans had come; they often refilled the dishes, so Finbar relaxed a little for he was used to them. However, he noticed that Mother did not calm down; this caused the young one to remain wary.
“Stay away from my children!” Mother hurled herself at the human. “I will not allow this to happen again!”
Finbar cried, the cool air of the stormy afternoon hitting him in the absence of his mother’s warm body.
The human, an older male with a grungy face and dark hair, kicked the mother wolf as hard as he could, sending her flying through the mud. He dropped a big plastic, blue crate which had shiny, silver bars; opening it revealed a soft yellow towel which looked especially comfy to lay on.
“Mom!” the white wolf pup squeaked, truly terrified.
Up until then, Finbar had not spoken a word.
The man began to carefully pick up his siblings, one by one, placing them down on the towel. The pups shrieked in terror, but did not fight back. The sound reached Mother’s keen ears and she was up immediately, fiercely leaping at the man again. This time, he reeled his arm back and punched her into unconsciousness. She rested, out cold, on the sloppy, dirty ground.
Finbar froze. “Mom…”
She did not get up. The world went quiet.
Shocking him out of his thoughts, he was firmly grabbed by the man, the chaotic noise of his environment and that of his screaming brothers and sisters returning to pierce his delicate ears. A surge of fury rose in him, causing him to reflexively bite the man’s finger. The man let out a groan of pain, throwing him into the mud, covering him in it. He probably had not meant to hurt the pup, but his brain had caused him to react that way naturally.
Finbar was dazed, and before he knew it was thrown into the cage like the rest of his litter-mates. The door was slammed shut, locked, and picked up promptly. Swaying to and fro in the container, Finbar pressed his tiny paws against the silver bars, staring at his motionless mother on the ground.
Another man, a worker, came and kicked her back into the wooden den, then secured it with the lock.
“Mom! Mom, please! Mom! Mom!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face.