Howler [[On Hold]]

Chapter three

The white wolf didn't have anymore time to speak with her Omega. It was almost time for the Moon Howl.

All the wolves were gathered around, almost seemingly smiling at the togetherness of the pack.

They glanced into each other's eyes, lit by the glow of the moon, as they waited for the pack Alpha in a silent tribute.

The white wolf leaned forward as she sat, expectantly listening with her moving ears for a sign Alpha had joined them. But there was nothing yet.

A sigh almost escaped her lips. She wasn't very patient when the Moon Howl arrived each and every time the moon was full.

It was tradition for them to howl at the moon once it was a full moon because the very first leader of any wolf pack howled at the moon; he or she was howling at it when it was full.

It was said he or she howled when the moon was full because they just won a huge battle with the enemy of the wolves.

It was believed the wolves mortal enemy was an animal known as horses. But those horses weren't normal horses. They had horns and had a strange, yet colorful pelt; that's how they were different than the regular horses that one would think they would be.

And those horses called themselves unicorns as they slay away at the very first pack, killing dozens--if not more--wolves within the battle.

According to the legend, the first pack leader wolf killed the leader of the unicorns, ending the long war between unicorns and wolves.

Why? Because the unicorn leader was corrupt, yet no one had the guts or power to challenge her.

Now the full moon was risen high above the jet black sky, inviting all who see it's glory to bow down and respect it.

What is taking Alpha so long? The white wolf wondered as her head swiveled to and fro around the camp. Her Amber eyes caught no sign of the Alpha wolf as the wolves surround the camp in some sort of half moon circle.

Face paced paw steps came from the entrance to the camp.

The camp was encased in a good chunk of thorns and roses. It was the perfect spot for them to stay because it was a good area with lots of prey and lots of holes within the camp for them to sleep.

Yellow tall grass surround the thorns and roses that surround the huge clearing.

A scent unknown to the white wolf hit her scent glands.

The scent of the wolf in question smelled quiet strange.

The scent made the white wolf's neck fur bristle in tension.

What was this curious smell?

It was extremely hard to describe the smell, but the face of the wolf told her that the gray female wolf in front of them had seen something. Something that sent her running all the way back.

Whatever it was, it felt important to the white wolf.

The gray wolf ran all the way through the barrier to the camp, ignoring the prickles that dug into her face.

The gray wolf--who's name happened to be Hoshka--ran until she skidded, almost breaking the circle of wolves.

Hoshka's breath came in rapid short boughts. Every time her chest went up when she took a breath, it immediately went back down again.