A young wolf stared down at the still body of his father. A large grey wolf with bloodstained fangs stood over him, panting.

"Dad?" The pup whimpered, nudging him. The wolf picked up the pup by the scruff of his neck and walked over to a stream a few yards away from the body.

"He ain't gonna wake up no more. You'd best be leavin' now, or I'll send ya to meet him." The pup whined as he was placed on the bank. He was barely old enough to survive on normal meat, but could not hunt or defend himself at all. Shaking himself off, he scrambled back to the corpse of his father. The grey wolf vanished like a wraith into the trees, leaving no trail. Tears began streaming down his face as he realized what was happening.

That night, as he stared into the creek, he was suddenly shoved forwards. Tumbling into the water, he struggled to get his head above the surface. The grey wolf sat on the bank, watching him.

"I told you to leave, and you did not. Go meet your father, or if you are unlucky, live on knowing what happened this day." Turning, he dissapeared once more. The pup stared after him, trying to keep his head above water. Blacking out within minutes, he awoke in a small den, being tended to by a hazel colored wolf.

The pup grew up with her and became a wonderful swimmer. He was dubbed Quicksand by her and he called her Fawn. Hunting fish became his main source of food as he got older. Fawn rarely spoke but was incredibly caring. When she finally decided to leave she did quietly. Placing a rabbit carcass on her sleep spot, she left in the night. They both knew the message she had left.

Quicksand stayed at the den for a few days before moving away into the forest. His heart had slowly hardened his entire life ever since the day his father had been murdered. When he ran across a wolf who looked like the murderer in his travels he nearly killed her. Blinded by blood and memories, he had his teeth at her throat before managing to clear his head, convincing himself this wasn't the killer.

Eventually he settled down in a pack. However, it could not last. He often spent time with the elders, listening to their stories. One of them had a pure black coat and, in her younger days, had been a trained and paid assassin. She knew exactly how to find the murderer, and they set off to retrieve him. Consumed by hatred, he pushed onwards to quickly. He wore down his companion, although she insisted she was alright. One day as the dawn sun rose along with Quicksilver for the day, he caught a glimpse of the wolf. He called him Wraith, because he'd dissapeared like one on that fateful day. He attacked without a second thought.

Digging his claws and fangs in wherever he go the chance, he managed to severly damage Wraith before he started fighting back. Quicksilver was thrown down, blood flowing freely from his wounds. Blood rose in his eyes as he charged in again. After a long struggle,(the entire time his companion was unable to help since she was hunting and was unaware) he managed to pin the wolf. With his fangs already dripping with the blood of his enemy, he brought his face close.

"You forced me to live a lifetime of fallen tears, breaking me one day at a time. I was consumed by memories and was unable to live my life. But now, I can show you something. On my journey I have wondered when did we let hate get so ordinary. The answer is simple, because one chose to do some act that cause others to begin the hate. It spread like a disease, some able to rid themselves of it, others taken by it." Tears were dripping down his muzzle, mixing with their blood. "No one ever wins when the goal is to settle the score. Ceasefire." With that final sentence he lunged in for the kill, ending both their lives in one single motion.

~

Thoughts? Just writing some more tragic life stories for some wolves.