The Wolf Call

The light of the moon turned the surrounding tundra into a majestic silvery sheen as I surveyed my pack's territory. As I looked over to my right I noticed my most trusted betas, Kaltag and Star, racing up the side of the hill I resided on.

"Sir," said Kaltag as they crested the hill, "eastern wolves have breached our borders."

"Not again," I groaned as I got up. "What do they want this time?" I was about to make my way down the hill when Star spoke up.

"Sir there's more. Steele is with them."

Things just kept getting better and better. Now, not only would I have to chase them off our territory, but I would also get the immense pleasure of entertaining my brother. Whoop whoop.

I sat back on my haunches, lifted my muzzle to the night sky, and uttered a piercing howl that ripped through the night, telling a tragic story of war and death. This was our pack's battle call. As though being controlled by a mysterious magnetic force, each pack member emerged from their dens and trudged up the hillside ready to fight. With that we disembarked.

The snow was up to my belly, and the winds felt like a million whips, landing blows all over my body, but I was not fazed. Onward we marched until we reached a vast woodland clearing. There, standing right smack in the middle was Steele and his measly pack of twenty able bodied wolves. They were travel worn and accompanied by about twenty pups and weaklings. They had nothing on our fifty odd fighters.

One lone wolf lifted his head at our arrival. He got up and walked until he was about three feet in front of me.

"Balto!" said Steele. As always, there was a maniacal edge to his voice.

"Steele," I growled. "How dare you trespass onto my territory!"

"Well, that's not a very nice way to greet your younger brother."

"Leave now, and live. You stay, you die," I stared him down, hackles raised. Despite the fact that I had about a head of height and three years of experience on him, he did not back down.

"Never!" he said with a defiant glint in his eye.

I turned my head and looked at my mate, Jenna, in the eye. "You know what to do," I told her. She let out an ear-piercing howl and the rest of the pack surged forward, charging around my brother and I like water hitting a rock. The packs met head on, cries of pain and anger piercing the otherwise peaceful Alaskan wilderness. Teeth were biting into flesh as powerful jaws tore muscle from bone. Only the pups were spared.

As the battle raged, Steele and I began circling each other, both waiting for just the right moment to strike. Finally, he lunged for my throat. I jumped to one side and sent him sprawling to the ground with a swipe of my mighty paw. The fight that ensued was bloody, but in the end, my pack won. The survivors from the eastern pack were driven off, and the night went back to the way it had begun. It was peaceful, with only the crimson coloured snow to indicate that it was ever any other way.