A blanket of snow fell onto Ash, wetting her fur cold and clammy. She shot up, shaky on her four legs, back in dull pain from where it hit the conifer trunk. The wind struck, and chills crawled over her skin.

Hunter mustered the young Wolf, disappointment matting his dark eyes. Fangs had promised him she was ready—no longer a cub. Yet here they were.

Winter grew more powerful, snowfalls accumulated, and soon, an avalanche would break from the mountains and wash over the valley. Then, not even the forest could protect them.

The pack needed more Hounds—food—to survive the rest of winter. And Ash's light gray pelt gave her the perfect prerequisite: the ability to become one with the snow and hunt undetected. As the eldest's last descendant, she could take more prey than all the dark-furred Wolves from the pack put together. Yet here they were.

“Again,” Hunter growled, turned away, and strode between the conifers, acting like prey.

Ash shook herself, freeing her from most of the snow. She dropped low and prowled above the high snow, following opposite the forest edge to blend in with the snow thoroughly.

“Come on, more,” Ash thought and sped into a sprint. The speed gave her movement blur, her black paws, nose, and eyes distorting into the blank white of snow. And soon, she was entirely concealed.

“Faster!”

Ash locked onto her target, momentarily forgetting he was one of her own kind, not real prey, and fully becoming a White Hound.

Fang's keen eyes couldn’t detect the approaching danger before it was too late, and a force tackled his side. Biting—but controlled—teeth sunk into his neck. Just like his Father had carried him when he was a cub.

“I surrender,” Hunter growled, pleased.

Ash happily let go. Feeling proud, she trotted in circles, watching her tale flee her snout.

“Good,” Hunter said and stomped a paw in the snow. “But don’t get too cocky! We still need something between our teeth.”

“Yes, of course.” Ash stopped and bowed to the Alpha, waiting for orders, and so did the other Wolves.

Behind Huter, Fangs strode tall and regal away from his wife and jumped a fallen tree. He licked his sharp teeth and glazed over the pack, his long, greying fur fluttering in the wind.

“Listen,” Fangs said, voice aged raspy. “All Hounds will go hunt now. Each of you may choose one of the Four Great Stars as direction. It’s time for the training to pay off. Don't even dare come back empty-pawed! Understood?”

All Hounds lifted their heads and howled together. Shadow, Ash’s uncle, of course, had to rechallenge Fangs and fought with volume instead of grace against the old Alpha. Their symphony had had better days when Sweet Tooth and Crawler were still around, but the early winter hadn’t shown mercy.

“I won’t disappoint you, Dad,” Ash thought.

“Good.” Fangs nodded. “May the hunt begin.”

—

Ash hurried through the snowfall, snacking the occasional flake to melt on her tongue, her mind already filled with images of her potential prey. She hoped for a deer, of course. Oh, how the others would look. However, even a few rabbits would do—anything as long as she didn't have to return with a desperate twig of a berry bush.

The weak sun moved in, and the remaining warmth vanished without hinting at prey. If Ash had her way, she would only howl after the hunt, but you only rebelled against the Alpha if you wanted to overthrow him or die trying.

Above, the stars sparkled like twinkling snow during the day, among them the Great Four, shining extraordinarily bright. Kubera, who towered the mountains—owner of the world’s treasures. Yama, who kinged the distant pyramids—judge of realms. Indra, who watched the forest—ruler of the weather. And Varuna, who reflected in the sea—creator of the full moon.

Ash saw further in the dark than most others, but there was still no trace of her comrades, not even a trail. A smokey scent in the cold air overshadowed everything else, and with it, a tad of warmth poked against her snout.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Following the trail, a humming from the same direction aroused Ash’s interest. The closer she approached, the more precise the voice became. She couldn’t understand the words, but it reminded her of one of the lullabies her mother had howled for her as a cub.

“Sleep, little one. Sleep already.

Or the Coco will come and take you away.

Sleep, little one. Sleep already.

Or the Coco will come and eat you up.”

Creeping to the top of the small hill, staying behind the cover of the tip, Ash made out the source.

A little boy’s head poked out behind a small campfire. A little helpless human, all alone in their hunting territory? Not their favorite meat, but it would do; after all, it was a matter of survival. But how hadn’t the others not already found him? No matter. If Ash managed to come back home with prey, everyone would praise her and be thankful.

She slowly crept closer, the smell of the cooked meat like a luring spell. Familiar, yet she had never tasted it. Too familiar. What was it?

Ash stepped closer and caught a glimpse of what lay behind the campfire, and she squeaked to herself, hoping to not have attracted attention.

Behind the fire lay dead Wolves—no trace of their fur. Ash saw muscles, organs, and bones like she had only seen on rabbits or other prey after devouring their flesh.

And just right now, this little boy was skinning Hunter.

Ash wrinkled her nose. More of the meat's delicious, irresistible smell penetrated her nostrils. Now she realized why it was so familiar. She had smelled it every day. The scent of Wolf.

Her legs became weak. She almost collapsed.

That couldn't be. How? This little human, prey. Food. Did this?

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how Mother Nature had made the food chain.

The boy delicately pushed his human weapon, the form of a long tooth, below the skin and pulled it to him in short bursts. Then, he changed spots and repeated the process until one side of Fangs got exposed. Steam lifting like a soul, leaving the body.

Ash watched, unmoving—crushed.

“You guys have barely something on you either . . . why must this winter be so cold?” The boy turned the Wolf over, about to thrust in again when he suddenly paused.

He flipped the long tooth in a reverse grip and stabbed it into the Wolf’s neck, decapitating it with a clean followed swipe. Ash's stomach threatened to come up and leave through her mouth when the boy plucked two fingers inside the head and pulled a shiny piece of bone out. He wiped the blood off on his coat and threw the bone in his mouth, swallowing it with distaste.

Ash watched, vision blurry—broken apart by her tears.

What in Anubis’ name was he doing?! Was he really a human? Beneath the smell of food and death lay another. It smelled human, but there was more—something alien on him.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I’m so—”

“Hey. You there.” The boy casually locked eyes with Ash as if he had seen the White Hound the whole time. And weirdly enough, Ash understood what he said. “Will you attack me, too?”

Ash found herself relaxing the slightest before buckling her back again, ready to attack. An uncanny presence spread in her, a feeling so gruesome it made her sick to the core. Why was he so—calm? How was the human using Wolf language?

All humans Ash had seen before had their own packs, and they fled to no avail. This was the first loner she crossed paths with. Weren’t loner humans afraid of Wolves? In a way, they were both loners now; however, her legs wouldn’t stop quivering in the presence of this—creature. Perhaps this boy wasn’t a human, but . . . a Werewolf, a disgrace for all canines!

The creature tapped at the snow beside it. “You could sit at the fire and—”

Ash fletched her teeth, rage driving her fear away, bestowing power. A Werewolf. That explained a lot.

A previously hidden urge awoke in Ash. The desire to ram her teeth so deeply into the flesh of this creature until its cries for help were silenced. For the first time, she felt more than the drive to eat, sleep, or play. Prey Drive.

She couldn’t survive without her pack anyway, but at least she could take revenge. She dashed, aiming for the boy’s neck like she had trained. A shock went through her, and instead of her teeth in the human, the human's long tooth weapon stuck in hers.

The boy sniffed while dropping her, warmth flowing through her fur, steam rising. No more air got into her lungs, and she tasted what must have been her blood.

“So you too.” The creature sniffed and stirred the meat soup in the pot above the campfire. A translucent green tentacle holding the long tooth pulled it out of Ash’s neck and retracted it back into the boy’s hand; the green-shaded skin there reverted to normal.

“Stupid binding contract.” The creature continued to skin fangs and glanced above Ash, his teeth clattering against each other, nose running.

Words flew over her, but all Ash saw were her stripped comrades’ dead eyes, the Four Great Stars’ reflections in them.

“I’m—sorry.”

Progression Towards Immortality: 0,00000002%