Pack of the Cinnamon Bark

[spicywolf]

The glorious shewolf stood in full winter's pelt, amonst the howling wind and falling snow. She had abnormally dispersed from her home pack after having a fight with her parent wolves. Stretching her supple muscles, she bouned through the drifts, as if a floating spectar. Her dark russet, pale red, rich black, and white frosty fur glimmered as she sped foward. Two icy blue eyes flashed in the black night as she let out a loud territorial howl. She had found a place to begin her pack, a patch of land amongst the mountains covered in sparece green pines. Under the full moon, her red panda-like marked fur blew as she stood and listened to nature. Her dark grey pads were sturdy and good for winter, her long sharp claws and fangs useful in the hunt. She preferred the lichen-fed spring caribou youngsters best, and her stomach felt plenty full from her last meal that she had caught. A pale white scar marred her hip, in the shape of an x, but other than that, there were no blemishes on her pelt. She waited besides a large pine tree, a dark wolf against a snowy white world. She waited for a mate whom she would love, a strong alpha male wolf to lead her pack with her. Compassionate, funny, gentle, and enduring were traits she looked for. She wasn't too picky on appearance, for it was the wolf inside who counted. She saw a future where she would lead as the alpha female, her mate, her children, betas, warriors, hunters, elders, queens, yearlings, and pups would not be a loose association of wolves, but a tight pack. The Pack of the Cinnamon Bark.