Shadewylf

7 - War

There was nothing Angel loved more than flying.

The wind in her fur. The gentle ruffle of her feathers, reflecting all the colours under the sun in a brilliant white. The comfortable warmth of the sun's golden rays. When she was up here, not even the wolves on the ground could see her from below. She was completely camoflaged, one with the sky, and in the happiest place she could ever be.

But not today.

Today, she flew with two pups on her back. Both of them were very heavy. That sort of took away from the weightless feeling she adored. As did their immediate mortality and lack of flying ability.

Instead of looping the sun, lost in her own world, Angel was forced to fly unbearably straight and slowly. Her wings flapped stiffly at her sides. She found herself hating the silence more and more, and longing to fill it with some sort of verbal sound, yet she had no idea what to say.

So when the time finally came to curve her flight path downwards, descending into the trees, she physically breathed a relieved sigh.

Pulling her wings in, she slid through the branches, her shoulders tensing as she shifted in an attempt to keep both pups stable. If one of them, the golden one, fell to her death, it might not matter so much. But if the Peltless died... well, according to Dawn, that meant lots of terrible things. Which was why she had to force herself to be very, very careful with him.

In her eagerness to reach the ground, she maybe flew the final few strides a little too fast, which resulted in the grey pup tumbling from her back and into the dry grass below. Shaking her head, she watched him fall as her own paws softly slid into contact with the earth. No harm done. Instead, she just felt a strange interest as she observed his struggles back to a standing position, the Thunderwylf hurrying over to dust him off frantically.

Dawn's words rang in her ears. He will bring us the hope we need. Would he? The instant Angel had laid eyes on the pup, watching him as he howled pitifully, she'd felt nothing but heavy disappointment. From him size, he couldn't be more than twelve moons old, and unusually small even for that. He showed no muscle or extreme intellect. All she saw was a feeble young puppy, probably neglected, with zero skills whatsoever.

You were like that once, her mind protested. He can learn. He can become a fighter, like you did.

Yes, maybe, but the huge war is coming soon, if Dawn is correct, she replied firmly. We need him to be able to save us all from great dangers in the next few moons, at the latest. There isn't time for training.

Flicking her tail in an attempt to cast away her doubts, she stepped over to the smaller wolves. "Welcome," she announced to them, "to the home of the Twilytra. My home."

It did fill her with pride to gaze across at it. The lanterns and the trees. But she was especially proud of the wolves that emerged from those trees, the wolves she called her friends. Each of them held a special place in her heart.

It was Fiammetta that reached them first, her bronze Pelt rippling orange in the dim glow of the flames. She inclined her head briefly to Angel in greeting, before turning her gaze on the pups. Her snout wrinkled in surprise. "Which one is it?"

"Which do you think?" she exclaimed. "The Peltless, of course." A second later, her mind reviewed the response and cringed. It sounded so abrupt, as if she were criticising her friend. Her wings flicked nervously as she fought for something else to say to repair the insult. Fortunately, Fiammetta's attention had already shifted.

"What's your name, then?" she asked the grey pup, bending down so that her snout was in line with his. He stared up at her, looking terrified. Beside him, the gold wolf shifted her forepaws in front of him. It was kind of cute, how she kept trying to defend him. Maybe she was his older sister?