Biography
The black female tackled a grey male. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked, amusement dancing in her dark green eyes.
"Um, hunting?" The grey wolf offered, heaving her off of him as he stood. "Why?"
"Duh, because we're supposed to go together, Slate!" she cuffed his snout playfully.
"Ow." The male, called Slate rubbed his nose with his paw. "Why do you always hit in the same spot?" He pushed his paw down on her head, and she ducked away, a grin on her dark face.
"Because I'm accurate?" she cocked her head. "Or maybe it's because it sticks out more there."
"Haha. The only reason it would stick out would be from you hitting it there so much."
"Anyway, are we going hunting or not?" The melanistic female danced around him impatiently.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on.
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When the two returned, Slate dropped their catch, a rabbit and squirrel, in surprise and horror as the female beside him gasped.
Where their pack's camp was were the bodies of their dead packmates. And the wolves who had done the deed. Slate ran off, the female trailing after him, prey forgotten in their fright.
Once they were a safe distance away, they stopped, heaving. "Onyx, how? How could that have happened?" His pleading eyes turned to her.
"I don't know," she admitted sadly. "I don't know."
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It had been a year since the massacre, and Onyx was carrying her and Slate's first litter of pups. They had built a camp quite a ways away from their old one, in hopes they wouldn't be overrun like their friends and family.
Onyx sighed. Flashes went through her head. The blood - soaked clearing. Her family, her friends, dead. All dead. The blood - stained murderers prancing about as if they'd slain a moose, not a pack of innocent wolves.
Shaking her head, she was relieved when Slate came in. "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. And how are you?"
"I'm good. There's some prey here, if you want it."
Onyx shook her ebony black head. "No, thanks. Not hungry." Her belly jiggled and she grimaced. "I think they're coming."
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After what seemed to be hours, Onyx panted, exhausted. Three pups. Clearing the first of his sack, she sadly shoved him away. Dead. Stillborn. The same was true of a little girl.
Heartbroken, Onyx gingerly cleared the last little one's nose and mouth of the sack. A small whimper emanated from the tiny bundle. Spirits lifted, Onyx cleaned up her last pup, a little girl. The spitting image of herself, she quietly named her.
"Jade. After my mother. You are Jade."
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And so the pack grew. When Jade was old enough, she had little ones of her own, and they had little ones of their own. Soon, the camp was filled with wolves that were her family. She leaned into Slate happily.
She could die happy now, knowing that her family was safe and prosperous. She didn't need her greying muzzle to tell her she was old. Her creaky, achy joints had told her that already. She sighed and closed her eyes.
After all she'd been through, she had a happy ending after it was over. Onyx leaned over and licked Jade's ear.
"After I'm gone, you take over for me, okay?"
"Don't talk like that, mother. You'll still be alive years from now."
"I'm not so sure, dearest. I'm not so sure."
Slate looked on worriedly. He knew his mate would most likely die before him. She was older, after all. His eyes sad, he laid down with her. Maybe for the last time...
Breeding Info
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| Personality
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Special Skills
Produced:
Female mela, 12 R
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Winter Month: 2 
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