[Rose]

He strained his eyes, trying to pierce the darkness as it rolled up and round them. How was he to face an enemy if he couldn’t catch sight of him? He looked up at the men. They seemed to be concentrating on something.

Was their eyesight better than his? Perhaps so, His father told him they were more than men, really. But since he had nothing by which to judge that, having known only those two-leggeds at the inn, he could not say one way or the other.

His father, too, had told him the old stories. Of the great hounds that had ridden with the Hunter in those long gone days; following the call of his sky splitting horn, running hard, their red tongues lolling over great, sharp teeth as they pursued the shadow creatures. The Hunter loved his hounds, his father had said.

No, the Hunter loves his hounds. That’s what he had said.

White Paw looked up at his companions, alert to any signals they might give him. At this moment, in this time, they were his pack members. Where they led, he would follow; what they asked he would do. His nose, teeth, speed, and cunning – all in the service of the pack.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. He stood stiff legged, hackles raised. Waiting…..