Snow and ice covered the land like a heavy blanket, choking and numbing everything beneath it. Bare trees bore great loads of the white, the only sound the occasional muffled thump as a mound of snow fell to the ground. Withered branches cracked and bent, and the twisted trees looked like deathly black skeletons shuddering in the silent arctic wind. The plain seemed almost devoid of colour, apart from the murky green of the hardy scrub that survived against the chill, clinging to the ground like weed.
A white figure stalked across the landscape, almost invisible against the snow. It was a young she-wolf, her pale fur tipped with silver. She was sleek and well-built but lean, her thick pelt hid the slight show of bones from under her hide. She was not meandering, but steadily loping forward – her body held low to the ground, ears erect and her bushy tail pointing straight out from her body. Each paw was placed carefully and silently, almost gracefully and she seemed to glide across the plain. She moved on purpose - her golden eyes fixed rigidly ahead, her gaze held strongly on something - and there was an air of confidence about her posture.
A gangly elk threw its head up, above a thick twisting bush that hid its body from view. It had only small stubby antlers and its neck was withered of fat, as if the winter had faded it away. A thin delicate leg showed between the leaves of the bush. The she-wolf sank to the ground, indistinguishable in the white. The elk's nostrils flared – but the wind was against it, blowing harshly against its back and carrying the scent of predator towards the west and not towards the elk. Its ears quivered but the land was silent, apart from the faint stirring of the wind and rustle of foliage. The elk lowered its neck warily to graze again around the branches of the scrub, the tough bitter leaves crunching against its teeth.
The she-wolf raised herself slightly and began stalking towards the elk, circling towards its back. The wind would catch her then and the elk would know her scent but would be too late – she was sure. All her instincts were at work. Her ears strained forward for the slightest sound, a sound that she had disturbed the elk and it had caught her scent, but it remained oblivious to her. She crept around its side and as she did the elk blew out heavily, her scent fresh in its nostrils as the wind changed direction. It balked and scrambled away from the smell, kicking snow and dirt into the air. The she-wolf snarled furiously, and leapt forward after the elk as it tore away. Although unless surprised an elk or deer can outrun a wolf with enough warning, the bleak winter had severely weakened it and the she-wolf easily caught up to it. The wolf ran at its heels, snarling and snapping at its back leg, seeking to get a grip. But the elk lashed out with a hoof, catching her in the chest. With a strangled growl she spun backwards, pain flaring in her eyes. Struggling to her feet she lunged back after the elk, but a silver shape streaked past her knocking her back to the ground. The elk screamed, and the she-wolf could hear a struggle in the snow. She leapt up from the ground, the elk lay jerking about twenty metres or so from her. A silver wolf stood over it, crimson soaking its jaw.
"I had it Kyrie," the white she-wolf growled, clearing the distance between them.
The silver wolf tilted her head to the side, "Really Siri? I didn't think that when I saw you lying in the snow."
"For only a second, I didn't need you," Siri retorted harshly.
"Who said I caught it for you?"
"No one."
"Exactly."
Siri growled sharply, her fur rippling down her back. She felt like springing on the silver wolf, sitting smugly before her.
But larger wolf slipped between them. He had ordinary grey coat, flecked - normal of wolves. But his eyes were a startling gold. While wolves' eyes were averagely gold, his were just so intense. It was the most noticeable thing about him. It made him seem strange and outlandish.
"What is it Ember?" Siri asked irritably, glaring at Siri.
The grey wolf ignored her, eyes fixed on the body of the elk. "Good there is a kill, the pack needs it most now" his eyes flicked to the sky, bleak and grey. Flecks of ice swirled down to settle in their coats.
Ember then turned his gaze to Siri, who averted her eyes. Siri felt more respect for her brother, Ember than Kyrie. In wolves, the act of meeting eyes and staring was a rude and threatening gesture.
Siri threw a glare at Kyrie, but then turned to her brother "Where is the rest of the pack?"
"At the den."
"Then let us call them."
Siri threw her head back and called into the darkening sky. Ember joined her, their howl filling the wind.
Only Kyrie did not join their song, her eyes – dulled from azure to a plain gold as she matured – were locked solidly on the firmament.
Then the two sibling wolves stalked towards the elks lifeless body, hunger in their eyes.
