A Murder of crows took flight as the sound vibrated through the trees. It was the running season again, a time when life was never certain. Darktips, the Alpha Male, kept watch at the top of the cliff while the others scouted the area, protecting the den. With the new cubs not yet weaned, it would be hard to flee if they found this place. Another shot rang out, the sound carrying like death itself. As if in an echo, a howl of pain and rage followed. One more lost, one more to mourn.

With his sharp eyes, Darktips spotted the movement below, well before any trouble could arise. The hunters were too close for comfort, he thought, they would have to be lead away from here. Like lightening he flashed down the cliff, away from the den and into the woods. As planned they spotted him easily and gave chase, but there was no match. Darktips, after gaining a good lead on the hunters, paused to alert the rest of the pack. He sent a howl that carried through the trees, and the message it passed was clear. His sons, Howlingwoods and Silentsteps, came almost instantly. They were joined by their sister, Fieldspirit, and her mate, Grayback. Treefoot came bounding in just as the sound of the men reached them. Following Darktips, the pack doubled back to take in the situation. The hunters had given up the chase, and were now moving back toward the den site. This was not good. To alert Blazingeyes, the Den Mother, would give away their position. There was only one other option. As they descended the hill they had been watching from, all of them knew what they were expected to do.

Darting in amongst the hunters, Howlingwoods actually took a nip at one as he raced across the clearing and leaped away into the trees. Brave, but foolhardy, Darktips still had to grin. Fieldspirit and Grayback took off to guard the den in case something went wrong, as Darktips and Treefoot ran the opposite way as Howlingwoods. Unknown to the others, Silentsteps had stayed behind, using his name trait to his advantage. Creeping soundlessly through the underbrush, he stalked the hunters, watching to see which direction they took. The men moved together, none seeming too eager to stray far from the others. There was the scent of fear and blood on the air and it seemed that the trio weren't too happy to be there anymore. It looked like they were going after Howlingwoods, which wasn't surprising, considering one of the hunters was nursing a wounded leg. This, Silentsteps decided, would be the one he singled out. Always get the weaker ones, the wounded, the ones that can't run as fast as the others. This is what Darktips had taught his sons, and taught them well. Silentsteps was an accomplished hunter, often taking down deer by himself, and once he even managed to take on a full-grown male elk with only minor assistance from Howlingwoods. Of course he had nursed several wounds for a long time after that encounter. Compared to that, this should be easy, he thinks. They are no taller than a deer, and far lighter, by the looks of it. Oh good, they've paused to rest. The wounded one is . . .there, leaning against the tree. None of them seem particularly alert. Now was the perfect time.

With a howl of rage, Silentsteps leaped from his hiding place, no more than five feet from his target. It was a perfect take down. Teeth sunk deep into the throat of the man as he staggered back from the impact. It was like a tonne of bricks had smashed him in the chest. He was already dead when he hit the ground. The others were too stunned to do anything at first, and then all at once there was a mad dash to retrieve the rifles they had carelessly set aside. They were too late. In a flash Silentsteps was gone, knowing full well the danger that lay in staying around to enjoy the kill. Now they knew what it was like to lose one of their own.

Meanwhile, tension was building amongst the rest of the pack. As Howlingwoods came into the clearing, he could tell immediately something was not right. Fieldspirit was standing to one side, watching anxiously as Darktips and Grayback circled each other. He approached her apprehensively, nuzzling her cheek questioningly. She nodded toward Grayback and then flicked her head off to the west. He wanted to leave the pack, take her somewhere safer, but Darktips saw this as a challenge and insult to his leadership. He could protect his pack, and didn't need some outsider questioning this. They continued to circle one another, snapping and growling, challenging the other to make a move. Grayback was the first to strike, coming in low, then bringing his head up to knock Darktips to the side, but age and experience had taught him well, and Darktips was far to fast. Using his momentum against him, Darktips sidestepped and pushed Grayback to the side and away, leaving his flank exposed. Teeth and claws bared, Darktips raked into his side. Yelping like a puppy, Grayback rolled away, pawing at the dirt and trying to regain his balance. Even limping, Grayback wasn't finished with the challenge. Lunging forward, he caught Darktips off guard and managed to score a deep scratch above his left eye. Fed up with his insolence, Darktips went on the offensive, throwing himself into Grayback, bowling him over and grabbing him by the throat, shaking him like a rag-doll. Fieldspirit howled in despair, but she knew better than to interfere. A few violent shakes and Grayback was down, the fight drained from him. He had learned his lesson, and bowed in the face of Darktips' leadership. Fieldspirit followed as Grayback limped off to tend his wounds.

Howlingwoods hesitated before approaching. He could tell Darktips was not quite calmed down from his rage, and anything could set him off again. A few small yips and barks indicated the arrival of the cubs, with Blazingeyes not far behind. Darktips' mood changed quickly when his newborns started climbing and jumping up on him, play fighting with each other. Blazingeyes had also seen the confrontation, and nudged her mate warmly, then tended to the gash that he could not reach himself. He had done the right thing in keeping the pack together. Through all this Howlingwoods still stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. Finally he could wait no longer. Barking once to get their attention, he turned around and looked back, indicating that they should follow him. He took them down and around the escarpment, and Darktips realized where they were headed, back to the clearing where he had left the hunters. Thinking back, he realized he hadn't seen Silentsteps since.

Silentsteps could still smell the scent of his actions clinging to him as he fled. He ran from Darktips, in spite of the Father and Mentor that he was, he would not approve of what he had done. The hunt had always had a purpose, to get food for the pack. Killing for any other reason was unacceptable, and almost never done. Even leadership challenges and pack disputes never ended in mortal wounds, except in rare cases, and always by accident. But for Silentsteps, the hunt was all that mattered. He had always enjoyed the chase, the take down, the kill. The food was just secondary, a by-product of the goal. He and Darktips often fought over this, but Silentsteps refused to acknowledge the difference between killing for food and killing for sport. There had never been any repercussions, other than extra food for the pack. But now his actions would have far more dire consequences than just another dead deer or two. Now Silentsteps was a Ronin, without a pack or family, alone and hunted.

Pausing at the crest of the hill, Howlingwoods gave the rest a chance to catch up. At his urging, Darktips had gathered the rest of the pack, since this concerned them all. Below, two hunters carried a large wrapped object between them. The wind was against them, so no scent carried from the procession that passed, and with the way the bundle was wrapped, there was no telling what lay beneath the blankets. With heads hung in sadness the pack returned to the den, knowing there was nothing that could be done. The mourning calls rang out that night throughout the forest. It had been a sad day for many, and Darktips' voice carried above all else. He had lost a son this day, something he had never thought possible. The howls echoed far into the night, disturbing the calm cool air and sending birds and bush animals fleeing.

When the morning finally broke, the sunlight created no shadows as it fought its way through low hanging clouds. Even the sky wept for the loss of Silentsteps and the others. Fortunately it also deterred all but the most venturesome from hunting. Howlingwoods had searched all night, starting at the spot he had last seen Silentsteps, hoping to pick up his scent. Unfortunately they had all been in the area extensively, so the paths crossed and re-crossed, making it hard to tell who had gone where. The storm brewing overhead didn't help either. At one point Howlingwoods picked up a faint trail and followed it out and away from the site, his hopes rising. But when it ended suddenly in a patch of red stained soil muddied by the morning rain his heart grew heavy, and he knew he had lost his brother forever.

Nine days passed since they had lost Silentsteps, and things had become more intense than Darktips had ever experienced. More hunters than he had ever seen came through the woods, knocking over and shooting at everything they saw. There was confrontation everywhere, and the area was no longer safe. All the packs were on the run, but to where, they did not know. Darktips' pack spent most of the time moving from place to place, often joining up with others, sometimes going separately from one another. They were reluctant to desert the glade so soon after finding it, something seemed to draw them there and they couldn't help but hesitate in leaving. Darktips never left Blazingeyes and the cubs, whom they carried most of the way. Howlingwoods was often on his own or running with Treefoot, and Grayback and Fieldspirit stuck together, but always staying near the others. This was not the time to challenge Darktips again, and Grayback knew that.

The pack traveled together at night, staying close to the river. No scent or sight of the hunters had been detected for the past two days, but none of the packs they had run with were taking the chance of stopping now. Each went their separate ways, deciding that it would be best to spread out and try to survive in this new terrain. Being driven so far from the place they had called home, every one of them was confused and disoriented, lost in their new surroundings. The forest they had once ran and played in gave way to dry grass and shrub. Fields of wheat and corn swayed in the wind, and trees became spread out and smaller, providing little cover. They eventually took shelter in a small grove, nestled in amongst a stand of firs. A light rain had started, and the trees proved to be adequate protection for the night.

The rain had slacked off as the full moon started peeking through the overcast, chasing the clouds away. Howlingwoods woke to a bright sunny morning, stretching and yawning widely. The nights were growing longer, and it was colder than it usually was this time of day, but other than that, nothing seemed amiss. He patrolled the parameter of the trees, making sure there was nothing harmful heading their way. They had lost the other packs some time during the past few days, so it was a surprise to see the small dark patches moving through the underbrush, only a few feet from where he stood. He let out a sharp bark, to warn of his presence, and the field became a blur of motion. As if from nowhere coyotes started scurried in every direction, most coming straight for him. Startled by the sudden rush, Howlingwoods instinctively went on the defensive, snapping and barking at any that got near. This only excited the coyotes more, and they flocked around him, barking back. Darktips and Blazingeyes came roaring out of trees behind Howlingwoods, protective instincts kicking in. The coyotes bolted at their arrival, no longer interested in playing. The three gave chase, but the strange little creatures were too fast and agile to catch. This new environment was getting to be more than they had anticipated.

Calling them off, Darktips led Blazingeyes and Howlingwoods back to their little stand of trees. He wasn't surprised to see his daughter perched up in a tree, watching the morning action. Since she was a cub, Treefoot had been able to climb the thick oaks and maples that grew in their territory, somehow finding purchase in the tiny cracks and grooves of the bark. These were not the same trees, the bark was smooth and there were fewer branches, but it didn't seem to matter to her. It always made Darktips smile to see her climb, it was something that always mystified him. He loved watching her chase birds that thought they were safe hiding in the leaves, and always relied on her as a spotter while out hunting. His interest peeked when she suddenly looked up and to the north, a low whine in her throat. Something had caught her attention, and when Darktips saw it, he wondered how they had missed it earlier.

Growing more anxious, Darktips paced the tree line as the combine rumbled closer. It was huge, much larger than the things the hunters sometimes rode through the forest. He had never seen anything like this before, and had no idea how to defend his pack from it. Maybe it wasn't after them, maybe it would be content to devour the wheat it was plowing through, and would leave the trees alone. He watched as it turned and followed the line of short brush that separated the field from the forest. The hunter behind the wheel seemed oblivious of their presence, and it seemed they were safe for the moment. When he returned to their clearing he was greeted by the yips and barks of his cubs, and spent a few minutes wrestling with the pups. Food had been scarce on the flight from their forest home, and the whole pack was looking leaner, all of them sacrificing to keep the young ones fed. It seemed that this was as good as any place to call home, for now, provided there was adequate food near by. Howlingwoods had already been exercising his hunting skills on the rodents and ground fowl in the area, while Treefoot chased squirrels and birds through the treetops. This would be fine for a while, but Darktips knew the danger of over hunting the small creatures. Something larger would have to be found soon, or they would have to move on.

Looking through the underbrush that surrounded the compound, Darktips could see his prey, standing stupidly in the enclosed section of the yard. Howlingwoods was already in position to strike from the other side, and Treefoot was near by if needed. Grayback and Fieldspirit were alongside him as he moved into the open night air. Small pools of light cast bright reflections in his eyes as he led his pack through the night, toward the fence. Sensing something was not right, the penned in deer started to stir, circling their young and stomping the ground. There was just enough room at the bottom of the gate for Darktips, Grayback and Fieldspirit to slip through, and Howlingwoods was pacing on the far side, looking for a weak link to push through. The herd started to run, but with little room to move, they were not going far. By the time Howlingwoods had managed to find his way in, the other three had already taken two down. He had barely started to enjoy the feast when the yard was flooded with light, the sounds of panic and anger coming from the small building at the far side. Taking what they could grab from the carcasses, the pack bolted from the yard as a hunter took aim.

The shots rang out like thunder all around them, and a branch actually shattered next to Grayback as he ran from the farmyard. Laden down with deer meat, dripping blood from his mouth, it was all he could do to leap awkwardly to the side, narrowly avoiding being pinned by it. It was hard to avoid choking as they ran, bearing food for Blazingeyes and the cubs, but they made it back to the clearing without incident. It seemed the hunter was satisfied in simply driving them off, as wasn't giving chase. The cubs tore into the offered meat, and Blazingeyes accepted her share gratefully. There was plenty to eat for all of them, and they enjoyed a full meal for the first time in several days.

Sound and scent carried on the winds that stirred the morning mist. The strongest and most dominant scent was that of fuel burning, something Darktips had begun associating with hunters. Rousing the pack, they circled through the trees surrounding their clearing, being careful of the sounds they made. His heart fell as thoughts of Silentsteps flitted through Howlingwoods' mind. They crept low as they neared the edge of the forest, looking out at the large collection of vehicles grouped in the field, with hunters standing about arguing with each other. Doubling back, the pack regrouped at the clearing, and they all knew it was time to move again, Blazingeyes was already holding one of the cubs, struggling in her maw. Darktips nabbed the other, and trotted off in the opposite direction from the hunters, hoping to stay ahead of them. Surprise registered in his eyes as they gazed upon another group of hunters, already marching in from this direction. There was shouting all around them, coming from behind, the sides, and now, from the front. Darktips kept his pack running, but no matter which direction they ran, there were the sounds of hunters closing in. Finally there was no place to go, as hunters started coming out of the forest around them. Surrounding Blazingeyes and the cubs the pack faced out, growling and snarling at their captors. Two hunters reached forward, long poles in their hands. Howlingwoods snapped at them as they got closer, but his extended neck was what they were looking for. A quick flick and there were two wires looping around him, tightening and restraining him. He managed to catch a glimpse of the others, and they seem to be in similar struggles, but they weren't ready to give up. Grayback had managed to elude capture thus far, and was fighting with the poles that held Fieldspirit, not giving them a chance to catch him. Suddenly Treefoot let out a bark of alarm, but it came too late as one of the hunters leveled a rifle at Grayback. An unexpectedly light pop was all they heard, and Grayback continued to wrestle with the bindings for some time. Eventually the fight drained from him as the tranquillizer took effect. More pops went off around them, and the whole pack was soon drifting into an intoxicated slumber.

When he awoke, Darktips could feel himself moving, but when he attempted to stand, he couldn't find the strength to even role over. Opening his eyes was a struggle, but when he could clear his vision enough he found himself starring at Blazingeyes, apparently still knocked out. He heard a light whine behind him, and knew that Fieldspirit was with them as well. The others either had not woken or were not here, either of which worried Darktips greatly. His cubs' yapping and barking brought Darktips to his feet despite his lack of strength and the dizzy motion he felt. He bolted toward the sounds that were coming from a small opening in one end of the enclosed space. Through it he could see two hunters, one of them holding a small cage that contained his struggling pups. The whole unit seemed to be moving, and Darktips guessed that they were in the back of a hunter's transport. He could hear stirring behind him and turned to see Howlingwoods swaying with the motion of the van. Another slumped form beside Howlingwoods told him that Treefoot was here as well. Grayback was present, curled up next to Fieldspirit, nuzzling her soothingly. Wherever they were going, they were at least going together.

Howlingwoods woke to familiar scents wafting in through the vents. It was the second night they had been enclosed in this moving box, and he was starting to get impatient. But with the smell of dry leaves and pine trees, mixing with the autumn breeze filtering in, his impatience turned to curiosity. Where were they headed? What did the hunters have in mind for them? Since their capture, things had been surprisingly calm. He had never known hunters to stay this close without attempting to kill them. They even fed the pack, passing fresh meat through a small door in the side. Could it be that these weren't hunters at all, but something else that just looked like hunters? The whole situation confused Howlingwoods, and he decided it would be best to let Darktips handle everything. The comforting smell of home wrapped around him as Howlingwoods drifted back into slumber.

The whole pack was awakened by a familiar and happy sensation as the cubs clamored and wrestled around them. Sometime during the night they had been let in, without anyone noticing. Blazingeyes was especially delighted to see them, snuggling and playing with them ecstatically. The whole pack joined in celebrating the return of the cubs, barking and howling with joy. They carried on this way for quite awhile, but stopped abruptly when the van came to a halt. The hunters could be heard moving around outside, their guttural voices coming from various directions and distances. Suddenly the chamber was filled with blinding daylight, as the back doors were thrown wide, revealing a breathtaking view overlooking a large expanse of trees. As one, the pack turned and looked to Darktips, who trod cautiously to the opening, sniffing the air and glancing about with his sharp eyes. The hunters were close, but seemed to be keeping their distance. Hesitantly, Darktips crept to the bottom of the lowered ramp, ever alert for signs of danger. Grayback and Fieldspirit came out next, flanking him. Howlingwoods and Treefoot took their positions alongside the others, forming a tight V pattern, into the middle of which Blazingeyes led the cubs. As one, the pack moved forward, watching the surrounding trees for signs of ambush. When none came, Darktips took to a sprint, the pack keeping pace, eager to get away from their strange captors.

After what Darktips felt to be a safe distance he brought them to a halt, finding a shaded streambed to rest at. Familiarity started to sink in as he and the others recognized the sounds and smells of the area. Although he had never been to this spot in particular, Darktips was sure they were in their home forest, and not far from his abandoned territory. If they followed the sun as it passed overhead, he was sure they would be led back to the glade they had left only a few weeks earlier. When the pack was ready, Darktips once again took the lead, this time, to find their way home. Their return had not gone unnoticed, however, and the witness padded silently along the cliff top, keeping pace.

That feeling, the shadow following them, Howlingwoods was sure there was something just behind them. He tried to turn fast enough, hoping to catch sight of it, but never did. Sorrow welled up inside of him as memories flooded his head, memories of Silentsteps and the games they played when they were cubs. Darktips was in the lead, and didn't seem to know about their mysterious stalker. Coming to a stop, Howlingwoods barked sharply, bringing the others to a sudden halt. Padding back, Darktips came up and looked at him questioningly. With ears strained, they both sniffed the air, trying to catch a sound or scent. Blazingeyes huffed impatiently, and Darktips echoed her. Howlingwoods hung his head in apology, and the pack resumed its search for home.

As the hunters left, Silentsteps watched his family move off, following the sun. How he longed to run with them again, but his actions could not be denied, and they would never take him back after what he had done. He hated Darktips for turning him out, imposing such strictness in the laws of the hunt. Living on his own had given him time to think, to relive the events of that night over and over. Now he was convinced that it was Darktips that had driven him out, forcing him away from the family. If he had only seen the injustice of the hunters, the hatred they deserved for what they did. If Darktips had cared, he would have had them fighting the hunters, instead of running from them. Silentsteps had taken that action, but Darktips would never see it his way, he would have forced him out anyway, even if Silentsteps hadn't run. He was done running. It was time to confront Darktips once and for all, to finish it.

Nothing escaped Grayback when he was on watch. Every wind-stirred grass blade, every night bird that flew overhead, every rodent they dived at, all were noticed. So it was when the eyes appeared at the edge of the clearing, staring intently at him. Grayback knew who it was, only one creature could approach him with such stealth; his brother, returned from the dead, Silentsteps stood no more than fifteen feet away. He sensed something wrong immediately, there was hatred in those eyes. The hairs on his neck stood stiff, and he let out a deep growl, loud enough to bring Darktips to his feet in an instant. The others were soon standing, staring into the night, but Silentsteps was gone. The rest of the night was spent restlessly pacing, as they were revisited several times by those hate-filled eyes.

Looking down at Howlingwoods, Silentsteps felt sorrow well up inside him for an instant. His brother, whom he had once loved, was out on Darktips' orders, searching for him. They were all out, scouring the forest, following false trails and being lead around in circles. Between visits, Silentsteps had been busy marking trees and leaving tracks in the soft earth. He was leading them on a merry chase, separating and confusing them. The sorrow passed as he reaffirmed the things he had convinced himself of. Darktips, and all that followed him, had become enemies. Leaving Howlingwoods, Silentsteps went off to track down Darktips and take his place as leader of the pack.

Darktips couldn't have seen him coming. His nose down, following a trail of paw prints, there was no sound to warn him to look up. The next thing he knew he was laying on his back, struggling with a mass of black fur and teeth, trying to tear him apart. A seasoned hunter and avid fighter, Darktips regained his senses quickly, and returned the assault, bite for bite. When he finally broke away from his attacker, he rose to find himself looking deep into Silentsteps eyes. Shock rippled through his body from the hatred emanating from his son's bloodshot stare. Never before had he been so taken aback by an adversary. As this thought passed through his mind, Darktips was once again thrown on the defensive as Silentsteps lunged in for a second attack. Somewhat prepared for it, Darktips was able to take the impact high and roll with it, absorbing the momentum and setting Silentsteps off balance. With a quick twist of his body they were both sent rolling, away from each other. Rising, Darktips let out a low growl, warning of his intent to make this fight serious if it continued. Silentsteps just returned the growl and lunged again, expecting nothing less from his father and former leader. His anger turned to rage at the dismissal of his warning, and Darktips gave in to it, disregarding the relationship with his enemy.

The sounds of the two combatants could be heard throughout the forest, and it wasn't long before the rest of the pack arrived. There was nothing to be done for either side, as both were so locked into their frenzy that interference would be futile. Blazingeyes could not turn away, no matter how hard she tried. She could not believe her lost son was back from the dead, but crazed with an unknown hatred toward his sire. Howlingwoods stood and watched as his brother and father exchanged bites and slashes, unable to do anything to stop either of them. Treefoot and Fieldspirit couldn't even watch, taking the cubs with them as they ran from the scene they had witnessed. Grayback seemed to be the only one unaffected by the struggle, having no real connection to either side. He had fought Darktips himself, and lost, so he knew what Silentsteps was up against.

It was clear to all that both Silentsteps and Darktips were tiring, from physical exertion and from a multitude of wounds. The ground had become red and muddy from the blood that seeped from both of them. With a sudden surge of strength, Silentsteps bowled Darktips over, rolling with him down a shallow slope. Neither Blazingeyes, Howlingwoods nor Grayback saw the final blows that were exchanged in that fall, but when they had caught up to Silentsteps and Darktips, all they found was a mass of bloody fur. The sight was too much for Blazingeyes, who howled out her lament in long, torturous moans. Howlingwoods was dumbstruck, numbed by what his eyes took in. Grayback padded cautiously forward, nudging the two fallen warriors apart. When he realized Darktips was still breathing, he quickly brought Blazingeyes forward.

That night was spent in sorrow, once again lamenting the loss of Silentsteps. Darktips managed to limp on his wounded hind leg, and was able to make it back with the others. Silentsteps was laid to rest on a rocky plateau, protected from scavengers and the elements. With heavy hearts, they once again resumed their search for home, never knowing what happened to drive Silentsteps to madness. THE END.