They’d named her for a king. It suited.

Alara moved with poise, grace, her overlong legs adding elegance to her every movement. As soon as the track widened out and the snow receded, she was running. Energy, unbound, sprung forward where it had previously been coiled in wait, whining its eagerness. To run like this was to be at home with the earth and the stars, invisible though the latter might be at this time of the morning. Dewdrops sprayed upwards as her paws beat the grass, wetting the underside of her belly. Far from the eyes of her pack, Alara allowed her jaw to drop and her tongue to loll to the side of her mouth, tasting the sapid spring. Her favourite time of the year. Before the blossoms fall and the fresh air gives way to the cumbersome summer heat, Alara’s coat will darken at the back and points, shedding the weight of winter. For now, her thick white fur shook as she moved, adding motion to her body.

A howl of pure delight broke open the quiet morning, its solo voice joining the chorus of birds. Alara skidded to a halt, sliding a little further than intended over the wet grass, ears pricked and amber-gold eyes alert. She listened intently for a split second before throwing her head back and forming a duet. Alara held the note only briefly before dropping her head back down to its usual level and pausing again to listen, this time looking for the sound direction. Meeting anybody that joyous would be time well spent.

It was coming from her left. She spun around and leapt into a sprint, pushing her body, delighting in the sensation of screaming muscles. Where they stiffened in protest, she raced harder, faster. Breathing was like inhaling ice. She reached the bank of the river and didn’t pause or slow, steaming straight through it and generating a shower of water on either side. She adjusted her direction and slowed to a trot half way across, panting heavily. Where the water crashed to earth from the heavens, a lone wolf frolicked, radiating delight.

Alara bounded up over the river cliff onto the far bank, pausing only to shake herself off. Water sprayed in every direction, generation a small, brief rainbow over her back. Damp, the her paws caked in mud, splatters of dirty brown liquid speckling her underbelly, she looked as far from the image her pack projected onto her as could be.

It was exhilarating.

“Have you rolled in it?” Alara called, her voice light and airy and gleaming with mirth. She leapt back into the river and demonstrated, feeling the water flow around her back, kicking her paws in the air.


FOUR YEARS . WHITE . WANDERER