Introduction

The lands were bare. You looked to the left, only snow and a few stunted trees stretched away to the horizon; you looked to the right, your gaze would meet a dense forest, the trees’ branches bent and drooping under the heavy snow that lay on top. A chilly wind would pick up from time to time, tossing up mists of snow and ice in the air, slashing against a wary traveller’s face, stinging until numbness took its place.

In that barren land, only the strongest survived. Food was too scarce for a weakling to live. And if your body gave in to the harsh conditions, you could rest assured your remains would be consumed within an hour.
That was the fate of a young cub; it had been crawling on, blinded by the storm that had raged just moments before. Now the little thing was curled up against the base of a lone pine, eyes frozen to stare forever into nothingness. Or until someone came along and was grateful for another chance to survive.

So it was now; a large yet starved figure stalked to the dead cub, snout lowering to sniff it. It hadn’t been dead for long, and the male wolf counted his blessings. In his mind there was nothing wrong with eating one of his own kind, if it meant survival. Greedy, sharp teeth sank into the still tender shoulder muscle of the dead cub, tearing away.
The blood was still warm, and tasted good to the male.
Ace, he called himself. He was still a young wolf, yet his silvery pelt was littered with white strands of fur here and there. He thought his colouring rather odd, and no wonder; his left ear, tail tip and right hind paw were black, otherwise he was coloured like a grey wolf. His scars told of many battles, and the look in his eyes reflected wisdom and experience beyond his years. One would think him to be ashamed of the way he looked, but Ace took pride in it. It was almost as if to say ‘Hey, look at me, I’m still here. I’m a survivor.’

The male’s slim muzzle lifted up to the skies, stained graphically red that contrasted beautifully with the silvery white pelt. The snow at his feet was splattered red, and Ace judged from the way the wind was picking up again that it wouldn’t be long before the scent of fresh blood brought scavengers to the scene.
And he hated scavengers.