He had been worried about being alone, about not being able to bring down game without a pack beside him. But Hickory has found that this new land is full of small animals that a lone wolf can easily hunt without assistance, and the need to find a family is not as strong as it had been a few weeks ago. Oh, he still longs for social ties like any wolf, but they are not so pressing anymore. Truthfully, he has been enjoying his freedom. The red and black wolf spends most of his days sleeping or playing near the water, catching the round little grouse or rabbits with relative ease whenever he is hungry.

He’d woken up at dawn to find a herd of deer in the meadow he slept beside, but Hickory had done nothing more than watch them walk through, knowing they were too fast for him to catch alone. He lays down to gnaw on a bone he’d found a few days ago, and watches the sun rise over the meadow. Eventually another wolf comes into view, but Hickory remains prone on the ground, watching her curiously with his pale blue eyes. He is not hungry and has no claim to this meadow, so as she hunts he rolls over on his back and paws playfully at the canopy overhead.

Despite his fullness, the coppery tang of blood reaches his sensitive nose quickly, and he stands up, shaking the dust off of his red and black coat. There are two wolves in the meadow now, both of them clearly hunting the hares. Hickory looks from one to the other, his good ear pricked up curiously as he watches them.