Too Many Have Fallen, Few Still Stand Tall [[Savior]] [[PG-13]]

[Guest]

(Sorry, not one of my better posts)

Emberglow stalked through the underbrush of the autumn forest. Various shades of red, orange, and yellow painted the woodland and fallen leaves crunched underfoot. But none of colors could match Ember’s fiery crimson pelt. Ears were pinned back so far they were buried in her thick fur and her hackles stood on end, displaying her severe aggravation.

The Alpha male of her pack had ordered Emberglow to go out on a hunting expedition with one of her pack mates, a young male named Drygaal. He wasn’t much to look at, with an appearance similar to a dog, but he was a phenomenal hunter and one of the reasons she and the pack hadn’t starved to death. He and the other hunters more often than not came back with a kill… this was not one of those times.

The deep red fae was a skilled and deadly warrior, feared among many wolves, but a rather pathetic hunter. Her long, thick fur slowed her down, making her unable to keep up with fleeter prey. It was her slowness that lost them their dinner and put her in a foul mood. She hated failing with a passion, especially when her pack was counting on her. The Alpha male knew she could not hunt, but still sent the warrior out with the hunter as protection.

Trouble had made its way into their semi-peaceful forest home. Gruesome stories had reached them of a nightmarish pack of wolves, all males, that ambushed packs and slaughtered them for no other reason than to kill. No one was sure if the stories were true or if it was one grisly fight blow out of proportion. The Alphas had no intention of taking such a risk. Warriors stand guard at all hours, changing shifts when day became night and vice versa. When a hunter leaves, a warrior must go with them. Pups are kept to the center of the den site, the rest of the pack creating a formidable barrier of teeth and claws between the precious offspring and any danger.