To Fir, to Fir, rise my child.

White Heather, we believe in you.

Go claim your destiny

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. 

Paws on sand, the echoing muffled thumping of her paws rang loud in her ears, panting, harsh and rugged, wild eyes and perked ears. Trails and wisps of purple fur and yellow streaks, the wind ruffling it and whipping it back and forth. Lucky grinned a wolfish grin of all sharp teeth, barking and howling out a laugh.

She had done it. Her coronation came and went, and now she was going to strive in the paw prints of her many past relatives, her father, her fathers mother and father, her great-great grandmother on her mothers side, and now it was her turn. The plan was simple. She was to strive the barren deserts in search of wandering werewolves, like herself, and was to build a pack of her own. 

It was what her family had done for generations, and she was the next to follow the same path. She could still feel the dry ceramonial paint that clung to her furred forehead, her supply bags thumping against her sides in a rhythmic pattern. 

“Good luck, my little bloom.” Her Papa mumbled, tucking her close as if to try and hide the proud tears from her. “I’ll make you proud Papa, Dad! I swear!!!!” She chirped, tail wagging as he tilted her head to beam at her adoptive parents. “We know you will.” Her dad said, smiling widely. 

There still was that twidge of something she couldn't identify, something unsated and quiet, yet a furious flicker that seemed to yell no at what she was doing. She ignored it. 

She would make them proud, she had to. It was the family's legacy, their tradition. But yet….

She had been nervous, standing before the Alpha, on the stage in front of the entire pack. She stated what she wanted, what she would do and how she would withhold the pride of the pack into making her own. The wood of the stage was rough on her knees, as she dipped into a bow, readying herself for the Alpha’s words. They did puzzle her, but the Alpha carried the will of an oracle, so the words they spoke were always needing to be interpreted. 

“Rest not my child. Chase the sun, follow it into the unknown. At the end of the day, you are and will, always will be you, so do not fret. Your mask quakes, and those whom care will not cry or wail when it shatters and new life, the real life comes,” 

Lucky puzzled the words, wondering what they could mean. A spot in the sandy distance came into view, and Lucky surged into a burst of new speed, paws pumping and with legs, feeling her muscles ache in protest but shift contract and move. Sand sent small muffled pinpricks as it fought through the thick layer of Lucky’s slick coat as it was kicked up by her thumping paw pads, watching the upcoming oasis come into view. The palm trees waved in joy, almost a beckoning to Lucky, who picked up speed, going faster at the on coming scent of fresh water. She had a flask, but she was reserving that for a time when water was not available. 

Lucky slowed to trot, tongue lolling from her maw as she neared the waters edge. There was another werewolf, a dusty sand colour, speckled in soft fudge brown spots. And yet, despite what Lucky knew she had to do, what she was proud to do and willing to do, she…. didn’t challenge them. She lapped up the water with her long tongue, satisfied with the coolness washing down her throat. She watched the other werewolf from where she was crouched, ears twitching. They were laying in the shade of a palm tree, watching Lucky in a curious-suspicious manner, ears flat and twitching, squinting, tilted head. 

Lucky lifted her head to stare back, tail and ears high, and she knew she could challenge them, how easy it was to challenge them, and yet, she turned and left.

Trotting along, Lucky was puzzled as to why she didn't do it. She wasn’t scared, then… why? Why didn't she challenge them? It was an easy thing to do, she had practised the challenging gesture since she was 11, then why? Why did she turn away?

She began picking up her trot to a canter speed, sending puffs of sand into the air.

Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. 

“Rest not my child. Chase the sun, follow it into the unknown. At the end of the day, you are and will, always will be you, so do not fret. Your mask quakes, and those whom care will not cry or wail when it shatters and new life, the real life comes,” 

Your mask quakes….. A mask? Lucky didn’t have a mask, so it must mean something else. A figurative mask? Like an emotional mask?

One of her emotional masks may break? If so, which one? 

Why was this so annoying!?

Her decision, it was simple! She wanted to be an Alpha, wanted to start a pack, her inter family had! So why? Why, wasnt she doing it? Did she really want what she was after?

Or was there something else?

Something worth waiting and searching for? 

Lucky was so lost in her rhythmic cantering, paws sent to collide with the earth that she didn't realise where she was heading. And when the hisses began to rise from the very floor she ran upon,  Lucky came to an abrupt halt, freezing. The hissing continued whispers around her, sharp and it prickled at her ears making her shudder, fur on end. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

The sand began to shift, moving and trembling as something large began to emerge underneath metres of dessert grains.

Shit.