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       #Post#: 431--------------------------------------------------
       silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 15, 2013, 4:19 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Hello! This is my story that I am writing, Silver Wolf. Of
       course, I absolutely love wolves - they're my favourite animal.
       This was made on Word, in A5 paper, so the paragraphs may be a
       bit short. I have not read back yet, so there is likely to be
       quite a few mistakes. I hope you enjoy and read, however!
       Please comment below. I will be reserving two posts in case it
       turns up too long, and so it's not all clogged up on two places.
       Now, please read, comment, review and all that! I don't mind if
       it's a critic, but if it is, don't be too mean. And don't spam -
       absolutely no spamming, please.
       EDIT: Hah. Exceeds the maximum allowed length: 20000 characters.
       Sorry! I will have to reserve a few more posts. But still please
       comment! When it gets too high again with all of those posts,
       I'll just make another topic. c;
       [right]Chapters[/right]
       [center]Wolves[/center]
       “Each pack, each personality, each wolf. Yet, I am still not one
       of them.”
       PACK OF RUNNING WIND
       Alpha Male: Isoba - black wolf with white star on chest and
       black/dark brown eyes, only half of ear (Meaning walks slowly,
       stealthily)
       Alpha female: Kriemhilde - black and white wolf with scar on
       shoulder and dark eyes (Meaning battle mask)
       Pups: Dilys - grey wolf (meaning genuine), Mavis - grey wolf
       (meaning songbird), Auden - grey wolf (meaning old friend) died
       from weakness, stillborn)
       Second-in-command: Aiofe - dusky orange and black wolf with
       white under belly (Meaning beauty)
       Packmates: Bogatyr - pure white wolf with black around paw tips
       and black streaks on his tail (Meaning hero or warrior)
       Karayan - pure black female wolf with dark black eyes (Meaning
       dark)
       Adira - a brown female wolf with blue eyes (Meaning strong,
       noble, powerful)
       Valerie - a female silver wolf with blue eyes (Meaning strong,
       healthy)
       PACK OF PINE TREES
       Alpha Male: Oakley - Muscular grey and yellow wolf with amber
       eyes (Meaning beside the oak trees)
       Alpha Female: Abella – White female with grey flecks and yellow
       eyes (Meaning breath)
       Second-in-command: A’ishah – White female wolf with grey
       splotches and brown flecked green eyes (Meaning lively)
       Packmates: Aala – Black wolf with yellow eyes (Meaning she who
       hunts and heals)
       Zytka – Grey she wolf with amber eyes (Means rose flower)
       Xylia – Female black and brown wolf with blue flecked brown eyes
       (Meaning from the forest)
       PACK OF BEAR CLAWS
       Alpha Male: Mieko - black wolf with amberish eyes (Meaning
       prosperous and successful)
       Alpha Female: Fyodora - grey and yellow female wolf with yellow
       eyes (Meaning God's gift)
       Second-in-command: Jezebel - black female wolf with amber-yellow
       eyes (Meaning pure, virginal)
       Packmates: Arisha - light grey and orange wolf (Meaning peace)
       Priya - black wolf with amber eyes
       Leilah - an orange and light brown she wolf with bright eyes and
       a tail held high (Meaning night, or dark Oriental beauty)
       MALE WOLVES WHO HAVE LEFT PACKS:
       Bahul – Pure black male wolf with dark brown eyes (Meaning a
       star, black) Aarush – Grey and black wolf  with brown eyes
       (Meaning first ray of sun) Ekon - A grey and yellow wolf with
       dark brown eyes (Meaning strong)
       Grosvenor - Male black and brown wolf with dark eyes and white
       flecks (Meaning great hunter)
       Wilder - grey male wolf with blue-grey eyes (meaning hunter)
       [center]Prologue[/center]
       “It all comes back one day. When everything seemed easy. When
       mother was there to help…”
       Blearily opening my eyes, for the first time, I stared around a
       small, twig-made den.
       “Oh look, she’s opened her eyes!” A delighted voice came from
       above me. I grumbled and rolled over, closing my eyes again.
       The second time I opened my eyes when something strong poked me
       in the ribs. It slightly stung, for the poke had been strong and
       powerful. I had opened my eyes indignantly, and saw a pure white
       wolf standing above me, her eyes crystal blue, staring into mine
       with puzzlement.
       “Mama, why hasn’t she opened her eyes yet?” My sister squealed.
       “She just did!” Another white wolf, this one humungous, stood
       towering above me. I let out a squeal and clawed frantically at
       the air, and then stopped, realizing she was my mother.
       Clumsily I rolled onto my front, and shakily stood up. At first
       I couldn’t quite get my balance, stumbling all over the den, and
       it took quite a few days of practice before I really got it.
       On my first week of life, I met my other three siblings. The
       other two pups of my litter had died – they were too weak.
       My first sibling was named Kri. She was the white wolf who had
       woken me up. My second sibling was named Carran. His name meant
       ‘little black one’. I knew this because mother told me. But Kri
       I had no idea the meaning of.
       Then, the next pup, also male, was called Amos. His name meant
       strong. He was born first and had a healthy look, with shiny
       eyes and strong build. But along with that, he was a bully.
       Carran I was especially close to. Like his name stated, he had
       shiny black fur with streaks of grey and brown. Amos was white
       with splotches of ugly grey.
       I was the only one silver pup of my litter. Mother would stare
       at me and whisper, “She has her fathers look, her fathers
       personality. She is just like her father.” But behind the awe
       and pride, I could sense she was a little frightened.
       There was one thing about me, though. I had a white diamond on
       my chest. It was rather small, but stood out brightly among my
       other silver fur. Carran would often poke it with his paw and
       make fun of me by calling me the Diamond One. But I didn’t mind,
       it was all good fun.
       When I was one month old, I remembered watching Mother catch a
       hare, then eat it and at last spew out the meat soft in front of
       us so we could eat it.
       And I remembered, moons later, when Mother caught three field
       mice and gave them to us to eat. Our heads were only a little
       below her hips then, and I still remember gobbling down the
       delicious, red meat. I had wolfed it down and then wished for
       more, and wished that I could eat something reasonable like elk
       or deer.
       But most of all I remember the night when Mother woke us up,
       screeching and telling us to run, to run as fast as we
       could…far, far away from the den, and to never come back. Ever.
       I had known it had to be a good cause to do this. I had sped
       out of the den, the screeches and howls filling my ears, dirt
       flying behind me, and seeing the luminous, frightening shadows
       reaching forward, trying to grab me.
       And then I remember seeing a shadow grab Carran by the scruff,
       while he howled and shrieked, and took him away. And I kept on
       running. I didn’t stop until my pads were bruised and bled, all
       the time hearing the mournful howls of my mother behind me.
       The whole time I remembered the day when Mother was gently
       calming us down for sleep, telling us that we would always be
       safe with her… that nothing would ever happen.
       I guess she just lied.
       [center]Chapter One[/center]
       “I know the ways of each pack. Every single secret, every
       heartbeat is known to me.”
       In the Pack Of Running Wind’s camp, everything was peaceful.
       Pups played near their dens with their mothers watchful eye,
       while larger, more experienced wolves lay in the shade under
       trees, beside logs, rocks and streams, and on the small, green
       buds of soft moss.
       Though there was one wolf in particular who seemed to take in
       attention. She was large and white, with crystal blue eyes and
       streaks of grey running through her fur.
       This wolf was standing on top of a slippery, mossy rock, her
       head tilted to stare the sun through those blue eyes.
       Then, an even larger wolf emerged from the thick clusters of
       leaves, lush trees and foliage. His fur was dark grey, and his
       eyes, like the female, were blue.
       These two wolves, my friend, were the leaders of this pack.
       They were the alpha male and female – the pair, the respected.
       The female’s name was Kriemhilde, and the male was Isoba.
       Both of these wolves were noble and strong, with their name
       both meaning noble and strong things.
       Isoba’s name meant slowly, stealthily. Which he had been named
       because this expressed exactly what he was. Slow and stealthy,
       stalking his prey with patience. Every wolf respected him for
       this.
       Then Kriemhilde’s name meant battle mask. She was a superb
       fighter – fighting with grace, ease and superiority. That is why
       the members of her pack respected her.
       Together, her and Isoba made a strong, worthy pack.
       Isoba and Kriemhilde were Life Mates. They were chosen to be
       mates at birth. Maybe when they were younger they didn’t
       understand this tradition, but now they knew and respected it.
       Now they had pups of their own, the eldest who would one day
       become the alpha of The Pack Of Running Wind.
       Kriemhilde slithered down the rock and walked over to Isoba.
       Gently she nuzzled him, and he nuzzled her back.
       Yes, they had truly found love, even though they hadn’t chosen
       each other.
       The day was warm, and as a large wolf stood up, the sun beat
       down upon his back, making him slightly glow.
       This wolf was a male – around the same size as Kriemhilde, but
       smaller than Isoba. Even though this wolf had brown eyes, you
       could clearly see the resemblance.
       His fur was slightly lighter than Isoba’s, and one paw was
       white.
       “Isoba, are we ready for the hunt?” His was as smooth as honey,
       yet as frightening as thunder.
       Isoba shook his head. “Not yet, Bogatyr. We still need to wait
       for Adira and the others to get back from looking around the
       territory. We will soon, be patient.” Isoba’s voice was also
       similar to Bogatyr’s, only much more loud and thundering.
       The camp was surrounded by thick leaves, bushes and trees,
       making it a nice, shady camp. It was the summer camp.
       And from the bushes, an uncanny stare was enveloping the
       wolves, taking in every fiber of movement.
       If you looked close enough, you could tell it was a wolf. She
       was silver with white streaks down her tail. Of course, no one
       in the camp could see her tail, none could see her at all.
       She wasn’t old, though, she was born with the white streaks.
       She was surprisingly young and pretty, and like both the alpha
       couple has crystal-clear blue eyes.
       Some might call her spying, some might call her watching. She
       was doing both, in a way. But she’d been doing it for year after
       year.
       But she spied to help the wolves of every pack. Yes, she didn’t
       only watch the Running Wind Pack. Yet, she wasn’t part of a
       pack. She was a lone wolf. Lone wolves are mainly males – yes?
       Well, maybe this is what you call a lie. But I can assure you
       that this she-wolf was not part of a pack, but instead merely
       another part of the vast forests.
       Her name was Runa.
       And, she my friends, is me. I am Runa, and this is my story.
       Many times wolves of the packs had seen me. Sometimes I leaped
       out to help a pack in battle if they had the worst odds, or in
       the harsh glacial of winter. And let me get one thing straight
       with you – I do these things to help the packs not because I
       have nothing to do, or because I have family or something, but
       because I care for them even though I know none of them. When a
       wolf sees me, well, they called me Silver Wolf. They all thought
       I was a message, a savior from their ancestors.
       Their ancestors, you ask? They are called The Pack Of Life.
       Strange, huh? Well it was because the belief goes that their
       ancestors provide their life, so they are the ‘lucky’ ones to be
       named after life itself.
       I know all this from watching. Watching through days and
       nights. Not a single secret gets passed me, yet no one knows I
       am ever watching, and when they may happen to accidentally see
       me, then they just think that it was a trick of their eyes and
       such.
       As they began to talk, I peeled away from the bush and slowly
       and stealthily padded away from the camp. You may be wondering –
       how come they never smell or me? Well, the answer to that is
       simple. I was clever. I rolled my self in plants to disguise my
       smell, and well, I was fast and quick when I was young.
       I began to hurry back to where I lived. It was out of the
       territories, of course, sitting, actually, just outside of them.
       Suddenly I heard the sound of chatter and pawsteps. Quickly I
       stopped and ducked behind a bush, just as two wolves from
       Running Wind Pack passed me. I recognized them both: Adira and
       Aoife.
       The two she-wolves passed me, still chatting. They were just
       talking boring things like how Isoba was getting grey, and
       Kriemhilde was probably wishing she had a new mate.
       I knew this wasn’t true – Kriemhilde loved Isoba, even though
       they had been picked at birth. And Isoba wasn’t getting grey at
       all, the only grey on him was natural.
       I snorted quietly, and when they had gone I slipped out of my
       hiding place and hurried through their territory.
       The good thing was that even if they caught a whiff of me, no
       wolf would be able to follow me. I had disguised my scent so if
       I was ever smelt it would only be patches, and there was a river
       ahead, which meant that my scent would be lost there. I was
       clever. I learned that from my mother. Sometimes I wondered
       where she was, and what those things were that took Carran. I
       still missed my brother, and wished I was back in the den, so I
       could take back time and leave before the evil wolves came.
       If they even were wolves.
       I felt my heart ache with sorrow. Then I would have a family
       again, wolves that knew me, loved me…
       I pushed away the emotions, and continued. I crossed into the
       hunting grounds. This was where elk usually were. They went
       around in large groups, and packs hunted them. Sometimes I would
       hunt the smaller, weaker ones with disease, or something wrong
       with them. Unlike other packs, tribes, groups, whatever, there
       were thousands of them. And unlike us wolves, they didn’t
       protect other of their kind. When I was a pup, my mother would
       often draw us together and tell us how to hunt them. Chase the
       weaker group, she said. Break them up until you’re finally
       chasing one animal, one that’s weak, without thick glossy fur,
       and with a funny smell, and chase it. It’ll be easy to pick off,
       and easier when you’re with your pack.
       That was probably true, but I had never experienced being with
       a pack. It would have probably been great, living with them,
       hunting with them. I knew how they signaled and moved from
       watching. Howls, eyes, ears, even tail, all moved in
       coordination to what they were doing. It was rather beautiful,
       really.
       I at last reached the river, steering clear of large groups of
       elk. I didn’t want to be trampled or scatter them to make it
       harder for the Running Wind Pack to hunt them.
       I sighed and looked at the water. Truthfully, I didn’t really
       want to cross. That meant getting wet. But, of course, all
       wolves got wet someday… I let out a short, low groan and waded
       into the water, feeling my thick, shiny fur grow heavy from the
       water. As soon as my paws could no longer touch the bottom, I
       kicked out strongly, my head above the water, and propelled
       myself to the other side. I had done this so many times, it
       seemed like just a routine now.
       There was another way, the shallow-water crossing. It had, like
       the name stated, shallow-water. But there it was quite
       dangerous, because bears roamed around. It was a good salmon
       spot and even though every other part of the lake was dangerous,
       that place seemed the most dangerous out of all.
       When I reached the other side, I let out a yawn and shook the
       water from my fur. The only other pack on that side of the river
       was the Pack of Pine Trees. They had a tiny bit of territory,
       and then he rest was across the water. They mainly had it
       because Pack of Running Wind had a ridiculously large amount of
       territory and there was a sparse bit of hunting ground.
       They didn’t make the agreement lightly, and I knew this because
       I had watched it with my very own eyes as they made this
       agreement.
       I looked at the sky, streaked in colors of pastel blues, soft
       violets, reds and oranges. And the blazing sun slowly rolling
       behind the hills, making the turf look grey.
       It was dusk. So, soon every wolf would be sleeping. Well,
       actually that wasn’t true. The Packs would probably be hunting
       in the cool breeze of night. In the sun, it was hot and slowed
       you down, but in the night, it was cool and fresh, and easy to
       hunt in with the shadows at your side.
       Well, now it was time for me to hunt.
       I rarely hunted big animals, unless they looked half dead or
       completely hopeless, or young. But I knew to always give hope to
       the Life Pack, our ancestors above, from the spirit world.
       As I padded back to my den, I began to think. The spirit world
       was where only dead spirits could enter, bad or good, young or
       old, strong or weak. It was a place for everyone – no one was
       left out of this place. Yet, rumors had been going around for
       year after year about entrance to the world of the dead. Some
       wanted to, some didn’t. I still hadn’t figured out if I did or
       didn’t want to go in. But, as the rumors went around, some were
       changed, modified in so many ways that it was now more a legend
       than rumor. Some say that when you enter the world, you can
       never leave. Some say when you get in, you are one of them, and
       some say that it’s all a bunch of rumors and myths, nothing
       true. But I preferred to believe my own rumor, that once you get
       in, your life is spared, you do not turn to one of them, yet you
       only have a short amount of time before you are trapped in the
       world forever.
       No one knew if any of this was true or false, and no one had
       ever died to even try to find out. Maybe vivid dreams or
       illusions had led them to thinking that they had been visited by
       someone one their ancestors, while others, even after they had
       dreams, illusions, whatever, still didn’t believe.
       I yawned, starting a small field mouse. I stared at it
       mournfully. That was a good mouse gone. But one mouse wasn’t
       enough to feed me.
       I sniffed the ground, now completely indulged in finding a nice
       fat hare to eat for dinner. As soon as I caught the faintest
       trace of something like that, I crept after it.
       My nose led me to a hole. I grunted to myself. Yeah, a hole,
       how great. I wasn’t doing to dig the rabbit out of the hole.
       So I continued sniffing around, until at last a cottony tail
       caught my eye, poking from the long grass.
       I crept up on it, slowly, stealthily. Then it caught my scent.
       With a little trill, it hopped away at an amazing speed. I ran
       after it; tail wagging gently from the hunt.
       It was about to enter a hole, hidden by weeds, grass and earth.
       I made a large leap, sinking my teeth into the rabbit’s neck.
       It let out a startled squeak, and then slumped on the ground.
       Picking up my kill with pride, I began to trot back to my den.
       Back to my home.
       #Post#: 432--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 15, 2013, 4:19 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Chapter Two[/center]
       “And still, I am not known to them. Not truly.”
       By the time I got back to my den, stars were already sprinkled
       across the sky, shimmering like silver glitter.
       I stooped down low to squeeze under the sagging entrance, heavy
       from fallen branches in the bone-hollowing storm that had blown
       over our valley a few nights ago. I felt dry pine needles prick
       at my rump and sticks jab into my silver, smooth fur.
       With an irritated growl, I threw the hare inside my round den,
       and pulled myself out with not much effort, causing the lip of
       the den to collapse.
       With a muffled grunt, I slid my paw around the side of the den
       as not to step on the top to make it collapse further, and sunk
       my teeth into the largest branch. It was an awkward pull, and a
       dry leaf kept causing me to slip, but eventually I had pulled
       the branch off the top.
       It was a miracle it hadn’t collapsed further.
       Without the branch left there, it seemed rather awkward. Plus,
       I had pulled it off, dragging it along the top. Usually a den
       would be sturdy and strong, built into the ground, but mine had
       been based off a hollow tree, which had rotted and fallen apart.
       Where the branch used to be, the pine needles, leaves and twigs
       had been going rotten from the dampness of the branch. It had
       made a long line where I had dragged it across, some where the
       roofing had fallen through.
       I grabbed another branch, hauling it over without making it
       touch the roofing, and then the next, thin, yet largely spread,
       spindly branch.
       Eventually I grabbed a mouthful of dried pine needles, leaves
       and twigs, and just dropped it on the roof. I cringed at the
       taste, but I was hungry enough to do a reckless job and then
       squeeze back inside the shaggy entrance.
       Once inside, I shook my fur and began to ravenously gulp down
       the hare. The sweet, fatty taste of it’s flesh brought my energy
       back.
       My belly thick with meat I lay down, resting my narrow
       head on my two paws and waiting for sleep to take me in its warm
       embrace. I was tired, that was for sure, but soon the Pack of
       Running Wind would be hunting and I didn't plan to miss it. A
       few minutes later, sleep had welcomed me and I had drifted off
       into the world of dreams.
       I woke with a jolt. Pawing an eye I yawned, still dreary
       from my sleep but ready to get up. After a moment I stood up,
       shook my fur, and then squeezed out of my den. The chilly night
       air bit at my skin as I padded towards the lake which I would
       once more wade across.
       As soon as I was across the river and into the Pack of
       Running Wind's territory, I shook the icy water out of my fur
       and crept forward. The hunting spot was close by, and I didn't
       want to be seen by the pack.
       Wolves are, as you may or may not know, quite
       nearsighted. Our night vision is exceptional, far better than
       some other animals--humans, for instance--but we can only see
       our packmates at beyond about one hundred to one hundred and
       fifty feet. I may have been the 'Silver Wolf' but my seeing was
       no better than theirs, and so I knew that as soon as I could see
       them, they could see me.
       I wasn't that special.
       
       #Post#: 433--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 15, 2013, 4:20 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Reserved spot.
       #Post#: 434--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 15, 2013, 4:20 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Reserved spot.
       #Post#: 435--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 15, 2013, 4:21 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Reserved spot&&please comment!
       #Post#: 501--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: prettykitty
       Date: March 20, 2013, 8:48 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       I have a comment.
       ITS GREAT SO FAR, BUT KEEP WRITING!!!
       #Post#: 509--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 21, 2013, 2:26 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       I will keep writing. I just have other things on my mine - like
       thread floods on WCRPG and homework and my main story-writing
       which is too ridiculously long to post here. Or maybe I'm just
       lazy cx
       #Post#: 515--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: prettykitty
       Date: March 21, 2013, 5:51 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       It might be that you're lazy.
       #Post#: 523--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: swifty
       Date: March 22, 2013, 2:32 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       That's probably one of the main ones. I promise though, I WILL
       keep writing. Lemme just find the key to my laziness and muse.
       It won't be a good story if I'm always lazy.
       I also need to pick myself up and edit it. I found a repeat in
       the story.
       #Post#: 804--------------------------------------------------
       Re: silver wolf [a realistic wolf story]
   DIR By: prettykitty
       Date: July 9, 2013, 9:55 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Where?
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