It was during the Winter, that the woods were relentless. Our pawsteps causing thousands of roads paved into the snow, together, we hunted to keep our pack alive. We would search high and low, in every bush, through every terrain ─ we separated, but our hearts remained determined. We would find food in this place, if it was the last thing we did.

We moved as one, and we fought as one. We were the wolves; the kings of the forest, and the hunters unlike anything else. We battled respectfully, and we buried the bones of whatever we feasted upon ─ we would maintain peace within the woods, and eat whenever we needed to.

But it was during the Winter, that the rules that kept us separated from the other predators were put to the test. Amidst the morning fogs, and the icy winds, our prey had left us behind. We were left to starve, and keeping peace amongst the woods was difficult ─ we were given a choice: to protect ourselves, or to protect the rest of the creatures littering this place. We were hungry, and we were cold ─ our pups' bones poked out through their furs, and our elders were slowly decaying. Even the most vibrant of us were struggling to stay alive amidst the unforgiving Winter, and with every day that passed, our footsteps became heavier; our determination fading.

I had wandered into the open space for what felt like the thousandth time since Winter began, scavenging whatever I could, for the pack I had grown up with. They counted on me, just as they counted on every single head within our family. I had grown brittle, just as the rest of them had ─ My stomach was a pit; caved in and aching. I had searched through the woods the best I could, but it seemed it was another day where each of us would return, our maws full of nothing.

But as I turned away, about to head back towards the forest, something caught my eye. A lone rabbit, searching the snow for grass to eat. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on, fur pure white ─ eyes glowing an ethereal cyan. Markings ran over her fur, echoing a delight in my heart that I hadn't felt since I was a child. She was special, I knew ─ but as desperate as I was to lunge, I instead approached her.

She looked at me, at first afraid. My shadow enveloped her easily ─ and with my form contrasting against the icy sky, she might have thought this was the end. Instead, I sat by her, and told her not to be afraid.

After a while, I saw her fur flatten and her muscles run fluid ─ she looked up at me, silent and confused. She asked me why I chose not to eat her, and in turn, I simply replied, "I don't know."

We sat by each other for what seemed like forever ─ Waiting together for the sun to set. I felt my maw curl as she told me of her experiences, running from wolves like me. She said they were always drawn to the rabbits, killing them effortlessly and dragging them out of their homes one by one. It was a brutal perspective to what I thought was a peaceful means of feeding my pack, in truth, I could never understand the fear she described.

She turned to me, asking if I planned to kill her tonight ─ once more, I said, "I don't know."

The night rolled in, and we went our separate ways. As I wandered back to my den, I couldn't help remembering the way her fur blossomed within the darkness ─ as if a lone star coming to guide me back out to the woods someday. I promised myself I would not kill her ─ Even during the Winter, where the rest of us were left to starve.

 However, when the morning emerged ─ I was woken by the sound of cries of joy. I'd stretched out my paws, and shook the dust from my fur ── I'd wandered out from my den, only to be met with the most horrifying sight.

My dear friend who I had met that fateful day, was ripped open and bleeding. My eyes met her own for a small moment as I watched the light fade from those cyan lights ─── The markings littering her fur starting to dull to a dirty colour. She takes in a deep breath as the wolves ate at her body,

As she looks to me, I feel guilt tugging at my throat, and before I knew it ─ tears were rolling down my face. It was a sorrow I couldn't contain, and before I was able to stop myself, I was pushing away my brothers and sisters from her body, taking in the sight for myself.

I had loved her.

And as I pressed my muzzle to bloodied fur, it was then I knew...

...my pack had killed a god.

     "Momma! Momma!" the sound of a tiny voice emerges from the forest, tiny paws skittering along the snow to a shadow much larger than her. Whilst her voice was akin to a squeak, her spirit was mighty as she leapt along the lands. The wind failed to deter her, the chill failed to stop her ─ She followed along the path of the footsteps of giants, calling out to her mother, again, and again.

"Momma!" she calls again, feet much too large to make any of her bounds graceful ─ the sound of slush under her paws echo again and again, until at last, her head rams against the side of a mess of brown fur.

Momentarily stunned by the slam of her skull to another's hip, she's soon met nose-to-nose with another of her kind. Eyes large and beautiful, the flecks of amber thriving within her mother's eyes never ceased to amaze her ─ And soon, she's left to laugh as she snuggles into the comforting pelt of a rabbit much larger.

"Now what did I tell you about calling out like that? You'll scare the birds away, my darling," a voice so soft, so serene, begins her hundredth lecture as she pulls in her kin to her side.

"What's so important 'bout a bunch o' big ol' birds?" the young rabbit inquires, foot reaching up to scratch the snow away from her ears, "they're noisier than I'll ever be."

"You should be more respectful to the animals within the woods, my dear," her mother shakes her head, before stretching her neck to peer up at the pair of crows watching them from afar. They always had to be careful ─ mostly of the owls. It would not have been the first of their family's flesh to meet the unforgiving hooks of a bird's talons.

But she did not hate them for taking her kin. Whilst they all mourned the loss of a family member, they knew it was just a part of life ─ taking home a meal to feed hungry heads, and perhaps a family of their own.

The mother shakes away the thought, before looking back down to her child, "the birds are as important here as you and I; they hold families, and close ones just the same. They exist to warn us, my darling."

A pause. Her mother closes her eyes.

"Of who?" She was still so young, of course she would not know.

Her mother smiles regardless, closing her eyes and taking in the Winter air. As her amber eyes meet her daughter's, she was both as grim as she was understanding. The very words to drip from her tongue would instil a fear that would haunt her child forever.

"The wolves, my darling."

***

Heavy steps follow along a path most similar. Even at such a young age, his size was already something mighty. He follows behind his pa, with the same yapping voice that pestered him every morning.

"Can I come? I promise to be good!"

"No, Gra."

"But pa! I've been practicing!" He soon skirts ahead of his father, kicking up snow that soon caught against his snout. The sound of grumbling quickly sounds, lightly baring his teeth as he shakes the white slush off the tip of his nose. There's a clear of his throat, and an unimpressed look in his eye ─ but he doesn't stop his son. Instead, he watches.

Ears pricked, and nose taking a long huff, he watches as his son stalks forward, before ultimately pouncing and biting into a particularly intimidating lump of snow. He looks back up to his pa, golden eyes twinkling in anticipation ────

"No."

"But pa!"

"I said no."

His father huffs a snarl, fur standing on end ─ before he soon heads out of the den, followed by the rest of the hunting party. Gra's ears find themselves drooping, dragging heavy paws back to the comfortable soil of a protected den. It was safe ─ too safe. He wanted to be out there, hunting alongside the rest of his family! But instead he's kept here, amongst the other pups and nursing mothers.

He thumps his chin onto his paws as he lies down.

"This stinks."

He'd sat there for what felt like hours, huffing to himself and grunting every time one of the nursing wolves tried to converse with him. It was something he couldn't understand ─ His father was always so standoffish; so cold and stiff. It was something he'd tried to mend on countless occasions, as if there was always something to prove to his elder. He'd bring back as much bedding as he could muster, and he'd fetch the mothers food ─ He'd spend time grooming the younger wolves, and during spare time, he'd practice his fighting skills with the older wolves.

He didn't understand, and it hurt.

"You'll be able to join the pack someday, Gra," a reassuring voice assures him, before a much larger form comes to lie besides. Gra looked up with a sulking sigh, before his snout soon buries into the comforting pelt of his mother. She leans down, licking over his ears ─ keeping him close. She was always so good to him, but it was ultimately his father's attention that Gra needed the most.

"It just takes time, and your father's overprotective of you."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"He just doesn't want anything to happen to you. You're still so young, and you have much to learn."

"But we're starving, momma," his whine was quiet, and for a moment, his mother looks away. It was true, they'd all become skin and bones ─ thus was the curse they all carried each Winter. It was a struggle ─ the pups were often the ones to suffer the most when they were unable to deliver enough meat for the whole of the pack.

But she had to remain optimistic, if not for the pack, then for her son.

"I know, Gra," she runs her tongue over the hackles of his pelt, "it's during this time that we need all the help we can get ─ but your father's a good leader. He's strong, and smart ─ He's brought us through many Winters, and he'll bring us through many more."

She pauses, before she nudges her nose under her son's stomach, "Come on. Let's at least sit outside. You can tell me what you scent, and hear."

Gra perked up at that at least, propping to his paws and bounding to the snow outside of the den. He skids to a stop, turning to wait for his mother to step up beside him. They both sit together in the snow, lifting their noses to the air, and taking a deep inhale.

"Now, what is it you hear?" she prompts, own ears pricked.

"Hmm," Gra pricks up his own ears ─ listening out to the sounds of the forest, "I hear pawsteps, wind, and talking."

"Anything else?"

He strains his ears harder. There was one sound ── far off, but blaring. It was a sound he'd only hear on the days the pack went hunting, and from what he was told, it was a sound that often left them with maws without meat, and stomachs without food.

"I hear the crows again, momma."

His mother's brows press together, taking in a deep breath, and standing up. She prepares herself to walk back into the den, accepting that this would be another day of aching stomachs and weakened strength.

But as she turns, Gra too stands up. However, contrasting to his mother's dull demeanour, his own eyes shone full of hope.

"I smell something, momma!"

Her ears prick, and she looks over her shoulder, "Yes, my darling?"

"I smell blood!"