First Snow

The wind swirled wildly across the ground the land, tugging at the fur of a pack of hunters.  They lay sprawled on the bare earth, using the scarce shelter of a large boulder.  Even in their relaxed state, it was possible to notice a rough order of standing amonst the group.  The Fass, the leader of the darrim, was right at the base of the rock, out of the wind.  His mate, the Ylar, pressed close, sharing body warmth with him.  The others huddled together as well, but never quite touched their leaders, respectful.  The ground was stiff and wet from the morning's frost.
  As the troublesome gale began to die down, several members of the pack lifted their heads, noses working.  The mood was tense.  Almost certainly, Fass was aware of the feeling in the air, but he showed no trace of emotion.  He did not acknowledge Ylar, who watched him searchingly, and continued to stare enigmatically into the distance.
  The alpha male's gaze finally focused on a single spot of white.  Without moving his head, he tracked it's descent, brushing past his muzzle and coming to rest on his outstretched forepaw.  He was not the only one to see it.  A ripple of unease passed through the whole group.  They had all seen snow before, of course.  Their territory, from which they took their pack name and their whole identities, was the farthest north of all the hunting grounds.  Even the youngest cubs were nearly two years old, and had survived their first winter.  But this time was different - there was a sense of the calm before the storm.
  The storm itself came an hour or so later.  The snow had been coming lightly but steadily, and now covered the ground in a thin blanket.  Then the wind picked up again.  Suddenly the snow wasn't just falling, but performing startling aerobatics on its way down.  The sharp gusts merged into a blasting snowstorm, and the world became lost in the white fog.  Rising like a stone sentinel, the big rock was still visable through the snow, but now it appeared to be on its own.  The darrim, their fur paler than that of any other pack, vanished easily into the snow.  Only the occasional movement, a flash of light grey, revealed their continued prescence.  All except one.  The third of the pack, the Kern, subordinate only to the two alphas, was pure white, almost albino.  He glided through the storm like an invisible beast, searching.  He could see the grey boulder and the smaller shape, also grey, down where it met the ground.  He moved silently closer, closer...
  The other storm, the one that the pack had been waiting for, struck in the form of a streak of white on white.  At the last instant, Fass whirled and leapt to one side, slightly too late.  Kern's fangs glanced off his flank and he landed heavily.  In the second it took him to recover his balance, Kern had left the ground again, but this time Fass was more prepared.  He reared on his hind legs, stiking at the other's chest, and they went down together.  Ylar scrambled out of the way and joined the rest of the pack.  The Firstsnow darrim stayed together, straining their eyes to make out what was happening through the whiteness.
  Afterwards, none of the spectators were completely clear on how the battle progressed.  Fass was a big darr even by the standards of pack leaders, and strong.  He appeared to be on top most of the time, but the other darr's tactics of dashing in to strike and slipping away again slowly wore him down.  Kern was small but nimble, and he had the added advantage of his white coat, which was why he had waited so long for his chance.  The snowstorm gave him perfect cover.  The battle lasted for at least two hours, and the storm kept it up for longer.  Several times Fass got his teeth on Kern's fur, his neck or flank, but somehow he always lost his grip.
  Finally, the inevitable conclusion was reached.  The white victor, risen in status from Kern to Fass, bounded up the rock to announce his triumph to the world.  It was a foolish move, for the wind up there was doubly fierce.  The new Fass only managed a single bark, its sound stolen by the roaring gale, before he half leapt, half fell back down.  Despite the awkwardness of his landing, Fass reclaimed his dignity by showing the other darrim his teeth, before turning triumphantly towards Ylar.  The alpha female approached him calmly, through the swirling snow, and regarded her new mate stoically.  She would put up with his ministrations, but the whole pack knew where her true affections lay.
  The big grey darr slunk out of the snow to join the group.  His lips were drawn back from his teeth, and the message was clear - I may no longer be the Fass, but if any of you think you can claim the title of Kern, you will have to fight me for it.
  None of the wolves answered his challenge.  For the time being they would follow their new leader, but the whole pack knew that, come spring, it would be a good time to be in the favour of Kern.  The new Fass's reign would be short.

(c) Copyright Hespa.
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