Wolves of the Wild (Book 2: Metch)

Prologue

Sunlight bled through a roof of intertwined branches, the leaves weaved between allowing sunlight through only after staining it light green. A gray wolf was watching her two pups closely, anticipation flowing under her fur after being told that they would be opening their eyes soon. Finally, the black pup lifted his head, before blinking his eyes open for the first time. He was surprised at the brightness of the den, and it took a few moments for his blue eyes to adjust. Finally he took in what was in front of him, before tilting his head slightly in confusion. The large wolf in front of him, his mother by her scent, lowered her head slightly to be closer to the pup's.

"Hello young Metch."

She barked.

"Metch?"

Questioned the black pup.

"Yes young one, Metch."

The gray wolf smiled lovingly at Metch as his youthful mind comprehended his name. Metch's mother then licked his head as he looked at a white wolf pup, much smaller than him.

"Who's that?"

Metch asked.

"She's so small!"

The gray mother nodded.

"That's your sister, Foloo."

Metch prodded the still sleeping Foloo.

"Hi Foloo!"

He yipped enthusiastically. When the white wolf didn't answer, he looked back at his mother.

"Why won't she talk to me?"

The mother smiled lovingly, and barked,

"Because she's sleeping, which is something you need to do as well."

Metch felt his head begin to droop and yawned. Sleep sounded good.

"Ok."

Metch then closed his young eyes and let the peacefulness of sleep take over.