The wolves of Spirane had given me much to think on in my early days of leadership. So eager were many of them to prove themselves, keen to scale the ranks and show their devotion to the pack. To me. Already two wolves had succeeded in the tasks I had set before them. Two wolves of no known affiliate had been stolen, one by each of my aspiring spiders. It would take much more than a quick witted mind that was able to steal to rise again within the ranks for those two, but they had made haste in joining the occult. Truth be told, it was not a rank I had thought would build so quickly. The mountains had long been known for their skilled hunters and warriors, and yet my brother stood alone in this. A most interesting turn of events indeed. But above all else was the challenge of selecting the wolf that would best fill the role of Hand. It was a wide spread job, and widely sought after as well. This was a rank in need of a wolf who was many faceted, and I had set forth a succession of tasks for the three wolves who desired the role to fulfill. All had make efforts to strive towards the finish line. But it was not a race. It was a test.

When Lavender’s call echoed across the mountain, I did not pause. My paws continued their jogging pace as I stretched my neck and tail, testing each wound as I flexed through my strides. I was regaining my strength, and my daily jaunts through different parts of the pack lands only aided the rebuild of my muscles, which had perhaps waned slightly in the aftermath of my fight. I refused to remain a wolf with a target on my back. I would strengthen myself physically and mentally and focus on the growth of my pack. A wolf who believed she would reign long and prosperously had a better chance of doing so than one who was continuously looking over her shoulder for the next would be usurper. My daily treks had allowed me to spread my scent all across Spirane; brushing against branches, rubbing against tree trunks, even the fall of my paws in mud staked my claim to every inch of these lands. Spirane belonged to me and my pack, and I would not have any wolf mistake that.

My path bent in direction, eventually bringing my trajectory to a point where it would lead me directly to Lavender. The trees grew sparser, and eventually they gave way completely to a large open area. At its center rested the she-wolf who had called upon me. I strode towards her, slowing to a walk as I barked a greeting to her. The summer sun beat down upon my back, and I let its warmth bathe over me in earnest. “Lavender, I am glad to see you. How are you, my friend?” I said as I drew near to her and brushed my shoulder against hers in a show of camaraderie. Pivoting on my hindquarters, I lowered my posterior to the earth so that we sat at a 45 degree angle from one another. I was in a splendid mood, given that my wounds – nay, scars – hindered me next to none.

After a moment, I spoke again. “Pray tell, I would like to know what it was that you wished to speak with me of at the pack meeting.” In short, I was ready to get down to business. I hoped she was of the same mindset. Surely she had not waited until summer to call upon me without carefully considering what she would bring to the table. I would have many questions for her, but this one alone would open the door for the conversation to come.