Along with a bit on my Korat novel that I'm going to end up deleting and redoing entirely, this almost made my daily quota of 2500 words with 2,347 words. Now I just gotta write a few more paragraphs to save my tail. ~_^

Title-- Of the Wolven Kind
Rating and Warnings-- G; no warnings.
Species and Characters-- Species = wolf, characters are myself and three of my spirit guides.
Summary and Notes-- I started writing this to prove to Wolf (as a totem) that humans really do still care, even if I'm only one human. About halfway through, I realized I was symbolicizing (making symbolic/metaphorical) my relationship with my individual wolf guides. ^_^;; Ahh, the funny things a Wiccan writer's mind does...



Wolves hold no names.

To name a thing is to limit it, to define it, and to disregard its infinite nature. To name a thing is to deny the tendrils of its energy that extend into the farthest reaches of the universe -- to name a thing is to diminish its power and its true self. And to name a soul is the most chaining act that can be committed against that soul; the soul is tied to its name and can never grow past those iron links that bind it and control it.

Wolves do not need names to identify things and souls -- scent and spirit, appearance and gait do that. So it was that the white wolf was unnamed and unnamable, just another wolf to men, and just another soul to wolves. She was young and healthy and packless, this white wolf who lived on the rolling tundra, and none really noticed her enough to wonder how she was well-fed when she had no hunt-mates. Mysteries of that sort do not concern wolves or men.

The white wolf ran steadily, alone, broad paws drumming an even rhythm into the ice-encrusted earth, plumed tail flagging behind her and deep golden eyes alert. There were no beasts within earshot or eyesight, and she could relax without fear of being attacked or startling potential prey. The sun was faint and distant, though few clouds covered the crystal-blue sky, and the wind was biting but moist. Spring had arrived, and the frigid air was beginning to reluctantly warm, as though unwilling to cease freezing those who breathed it so freely.

The white wolf had nowhere to go, and no reason to run. She had left a less muddy landscape whose snows were still cold and firm and hadn't yet started to make sludge of the warming tundra; she could have stayed and laid on a large, flat rock and warmed her thick white pelt with the sun's watery rays. She didn't have to be breathing hard with the exhilaration and effort of her strong lope, and she didn't have to wonder where she would den when night came. She could have stayed -- but staying in one place wasn't her way.

Howls rang out, echoes of soul-cries long since faded. The white wolf's ears pricked up and she slowed slightly, keen mind already discerning the tremors of individual voices and the subtle messages that each note carried with its song. She changed course to veer right when she confirmed her initial impression -- she knew those howls, and she knew the wolves who had howled, and she knew the message.

The white wolf had been alone for the winter, but she never seemed to have any trouble feeding herself. A wolf pack will succeed in one of ten hunts, but the white wolf had a one in two ratio when she stalked the smaller prey that were a lone wolf's targets. Rabbits and mice fell to her jaws on a nearly daily basis, but no fellow wolf had ever seen her twice to look in askance at her health.

But now, her solitude would end, and she lengthened her stride at that encouraging thought. Though she was quite capable of feeding herself, she missed the company that the howling wolves offered, and deep within her golden eyes shone an eager light. She wanted her companions again, wanted to share the warmth of other bodies at night, wanted to howl with her voice mingling with those of her companions.

As though the thought persuaded her to try, even from a distance, the white wolf threw her muzzle to the sky mid-stride and howled. Her cry was quavering because of her run and short because of her breath, but it rang out proud and strong across the warming tundra, and she knew that the howling wolves would hear it. Joy shone in her unfathomable eyes when the distant voices rose up in a joint howl again, dancing around each other like tendrils of smoke that rose from the fire of man to emblazon the dark winter's night. She had seen the fires in more southern areas and avoided them during the season of ice and blizzard.

The white wolf ran through the pale sunlight and over the muddied terra with her heart pumping and muscles contracting to send her tall, well-built body across the tundra at a considerable speed. If it weren't for the wind of her own speed blowing hard against her face and twisting other breezes away, she rather thought that she could have smelled the howling wolves' scents, even from such a distance. As it was, she drank in the chill air hungrily and used it as fuel for her run.

Nearly an hour later, the white wolf was beginning to tire, for although wolves can maintain a trot for endless hours, a full-fledged gallop requires more energy and effort. A full-fledged gallop wearies wolves if they keep it up too long, but then, it's rare that a full-fledged gallop is needed for too long. In a hunt, the prey will be caught or it will be lost in a fairly short amount of time -- in regular traveling, the mile-eating trot is preferred.

But she was nearing the origin of the howls, though she hadn't heard the wolves for some time. Panting hard, flanks heaving, she shortened her stride and pulled back into a trot, allowing her heart and legs to slip into a more usual rhythm of functioning. She exhaled strongly once, half an amused snort for the relief she immediately felt at slowing down. But her head and tail were still high, the former sketching about for signs of the howling wolves and the latter flagged and waving slightly back and forth.

Rich scents, now unimpeded by speed-wind, drifted into her nostrils, and she paused, muzzle casting about until she pinpointed the direction from which they came. They were her wolves, indeed, and as she kicked herself into a quicker trot, they crested the slight rise a slight distance away.

They were three, and none of them fit for the arctic clime like the white wolf: a reddish male, a small black and tan female, and a huge ebony female. The male threw his voice to the sky in a brief greeting, and they waited, patient and still, until the white wolf joined them.

Then, as she stopped atop the swell of the land and caught her breath, the smaller female stepped lightly forward to share a nuzzle with the bigger wolf. The white wolf playfully growled and nipped at the other's charcoal-tawny fur, and the small wolf dodged artfully, tail high and wagging.

The black female growled, an impassive sound both meant to quell the two's antics and announce her presence, as well as to greet their missing companion. The white wolf splayed her ears and lowered her tail, hunkering a bit; it had always been necessary to submit to the black wolf, and ingrained instinct wouldn't let her do otherwise. The biggest wolf snorted heavily, both annoyed and inordinately placated by the display of faux-passivity.

The male, about as large as the white wolf herself, stepped forward to exchange a brief, almost formal muzzle-touch with her. The white wolf kept her tail and ears low, though the male didn't demand pacification as the black female did, then licked his chin with a tentative wag of her plumed tail. He was unusually stoic, and she could feel distress radiating from him, could smell it on his fur and breath. He turned his head away and sighed, a long-suffering, frustrated, pained sound.

The white wolf looked askance to the other females. The black curled her lip high, baring long white fangs, to express her own agreement to the male's reaction; the tan-and-black simply lowered her head, then shot a meaningful glance southwards -- the direction of men. The white wolf splayed her ears unhappily and understood.

A whimper caught in her throat, she bumped the male's golden-red muzzle with her own and worriedly wagged her tail, ears still low; he paid little attention to her, though it had been his voice that rang out most strongly across the tundra to call her to them again. He must have missed her as much as she had they. The white wolf was confused -- the others had clearly displayed their feelings, and it was unusual for him to refrain from doing so as well. Was he so upset this time...?

The tan-and-black nudged the white wolf's haunch with her nose, a warily warning look in her golden-brown eyes, and the black wolf seconded that wordless advice with a level, steely stare. The white wolf flinched, then settled to her haunches and let her tail fall to the muddy, snowy earth. There wasn't happiness to be had if the male was upset.

Fire-gold eyes met her own as he slowly turned back to face her, ears still low and angled backwards, but a hint of apology shone out as he wuffed half-heartedly. The black wolf drew back half a step in surprise, stark yellow eyes wide at the male's unusual extending of himself for another when he had every right to be unhappy; the smallest wolf yipped happily and set herself to playfully tugging on the male's thick tail-fur.

The white wolf's ears came up, and her tail wagged, and she returned the wuff with a good deal more emotion behind it. The male looked tired and distressed still, but there was a glint of flame in those beautiful eyes that recalled his old self. The black wolf huffed, discreetly amused at the turnabout but pretending stiff disdain, and the charcoal-tawny wolf pranced about on deft paws that seemed to effortlessly avoid the worst of the mud.

The white wolf threw her muzzle upwards and let loose her soul; three other voices twined about her own in ancient, primal, ever-lasting song.



I give my love, respect, and devotion to my wolves. Always.

PS~ This really is random, but while writing this, I thought of dmp. I remembered seeing her lovely wolfish icon, and it stuck in my mind because I thought she might read this and, perhaps, enjoy it. ^_^ </end> ^^;;