Arrowfang's Recognition

Prologue

Sniper had been awaiting this day for months.

The black wolf knew what was happening inside the den, where his precious mate Fern had been confined for the past few weeks. He looked calmly to where his friend Duster paced outside his own den that was three caves away, obviously racked with anxiety.

Silently Sniper rose from his sitting position and padded towards Duster. Duster had been his friend since they were cubs, since both of them had chosen to talk to the other about the same topic on the same day. Moments before sitting down next to his brownish-gray friend, he glanced down at his chest, where a white line cleaved the darkness of his coat from his chin down to his stomach. It had given him his name, and he was proud of it.

Duster noticed that his friend had walked over, but he was too nervous to do much but mutter, "Hi, Sniper," as he continued to pace.

Sniper couldn't suppress a small chuckle. "Duster, calm down. Arki is tougher than she seems. She'll be fine."

Duster gave Sniper a grateful glance before sitting down and staring at the white spot that marked the center of his chest. "I wonder if my cubs will like to play with my white spot like you used to," he stated.

"I wonder," Sniper began, then stopped as a large silvery-blue she-wolf approached.

"Sniper, Duster," she greeted them, acknowledging both with a brief nod. "Fern has finished. She is ready for you, Sniper."

Sniper leaped up in excitement. As he walked toward his den, he glimpsed back in his friend's direction in time to see a white cub bound out of Duster's den, check herself, and approach him. Sweet Snowdrop. She had found an interest in healing, and the pack was glad to have their first healer in training.

He paused before entering his den. Cautiously, in a low voice, he called out, "Fern?" Last time he had startled her she had bitten his nose in her fright. He wasn't about to repeat that.

"Come in, Sniper. I'm over here."

Sniper found his mate in the dim light of the cave. Three figures were curled up close to her.

"We have a son, Sniper," Fern said in a soft tone. Sniper's fur bristled in brief alarm. What about the other figures next to her?

Fern continued speaking. "One was stillborn." She indicated it with her tail. "The other two made it this far." Her green eyes shone with sadness mingled with joy. "One son, and he's perfect."

Sniper looked at the one remaining cub and almost immediately hated it. The cub was a light silvery-white color with three curved black marks across his neck and shoulders. On the side of his neck there was a strange black blob. Its shape reminded Sniper of some sort of arrow. To add to that, he was so small Sniper thought there was no way he could live for long.

"No." Sniper backed away in disgust. "He's ugly."

"Does it matter how he looks?" Fern's eyes were stern.

"But that blob on his neck--"

"I like that he's different. Why are you being so critical?"

"I thought he would look more--"

"You thought he would look just like you, because you're so proud that you don't want it any other way." Fern searched Sniper's eyes. "Why are you so self-centered that that you don't like your own son?"

Sniper narrowed his eyes and stalked out. Behind him, Fern carefully moved her two still daughters and curled up with her one remaining cub.