Wolves of the Wild (Book 2: Metch)

Chapter 4 (Part 1)

Snow Season

Metch curled further into his own fur, not used to the icy winds that the trees in Amber Trees Pack territory had usually blocked out. In Willow Creek Pack territory, the mostly-grassy environment left the wind, and currently snow to get under his fur. Metch could see Moonech standing outside her den, watching the drifting snow flakes in awe. A stronger gust of wind blew through, rattling the dry reeds that grew in the normally swampy territory. The noise bugged him, it was almost as annoying as the constant yapping of pups. The other wolves had gotten used to the constant noise of rustling frosty grass, and snow piling on the ice-coated ground. When Willow Creek called Snow Season Frozen Water, they were right. The streams and rivers that littered the territory had frozen over, and the usually marshy grass was hard and frozen beneath him.

Prey had also been vanishing into their burrows, and the packs were beginning to starve, more so than any wolf cared to admit. Well, there was prey, mostly fish, but Metch often found himself starving himself, instead letting the others eat before him. He would often not eat even if there was prey left over. He didn't know why, he was just never hungry. That's a lie. He was constantly hungry. It followed him like a plague. He just refused to be strong for Razorblood. The black wolf was constantly telling him to take so much prey the packs would starve, so Metch starved himself instead, only eating when Moss would force him to. The gray wolf had begun hanging around him more, and had even traded a delicious-looking rabbit with Tilim to sleep next to Metch. Tilim seemed fine with it, he got to sleep right next to Kai, the two had been together a lot lately. Moss had also been with Metch a lot lately. Metch was rather confused by it, but Moss seemed happy going on every hunt he went on, so he let her. Whenever they had conversations, Metch would glance at her to make sure she was still listening, and he would look into her green eyes, shining with a secret passion. He honestly liked hanging out with her, she was sweet, and the only wolf that didn't mind his strange moments. Maybe she wasn't that bad. Moss shifted beside Metch, then lifted her head up and glanced at Metch.

"Hey, you want to go play?"

Moss asked suddenly. Metch pricked his ears in surprise, then nodded before standing. He stretched, and glanced at Moss, whose eyes were almost glowing she looked so happy. Metch smiled at her, then padded out of the den, trying to suppress the shivers he got from the wind. As they padded through the snowy wonderland, they had small talk, mostly about their favorite prey.

"I really like squirrels,"

Moss was saying.

"Their fun to chase, watching their bushy tail bounce up and down."

She giggled, and Metch chuckled.

"I like elk, I haven't hunted any, but they taste so good! Like deer, but darker."

Metch replied, glancing at Moss with a smile. She nodded, and the two locked eyes for a moment. Moss then stopped, and Metch padded back to join her.

"Something wrong?"

He barked. She was staring intently at her paws before she barked,

"Metch, I-"

Just then Belike, Branch, Fox and Holly burst through a patch of grass, all of them chuckling about something.

"There you are!"

Belike barked, noticing Metch and Moss.

"We were about to head to the border and play at the pond. Want to come?"

Metch pricked his ears, then barked,

"Sure! Want to come Moss?"

Moss seemed frozen in place, glaring at the newcomers. Her ears were pressed against her head, and her hackles were raised slightly.