Was she ready to face the unknown? This was Maple's question. Last time she was here, she had found blood on the ground--wolf blood. She had left instantly, for she was barely two then and still young and cowardly.
But now? She was older--now nearly three--and she could do this.
But she was nervous. Still nervous, after everything.
"Calm," she told herself. "Steady."
And she padded down the hill.
~•~
Maple trotted down the hill. A month had passed since she had run away for a second time.
"I'm three years old," she thought. "I'm ready to explore. I won't be a coward like the last two times."
She tilted her head and took a whiff of the sweet summer air. She could scent a young wolf and the tang of a rabbit's blood. She followed the scent, running swiftly through the forest.
~•~
A young, light red wolf with a pink nose sat beneath a tree, a dead rabbit at her feet.
"An amela like me," Maple gasped to herself, slowing down and walking, warily, towards the wolf.
"Oh!" the wolf cried. She leaped to her feet.
"Hi!" Maple said, ignoring her mother's words flowing through her brain: "Be cautious, step slow, stay away."
"I'm Azalea!" the wolf said.
"Maple," Maple told her, and they became friends.
~•~
The next day, Maple went back to the same spot to wait for her friend. But Azalea didn't come. Maple hunted until the sky got dark. She fell asleep under the tree in a tangle of restless dreams.
In the dreams, Azalea was there, crying for help. She was always desperately afraid and starving.
Maple shook herself awake. Azalea wasn't there yet.
"You."
Maple turned to see a silvery pale wolf, staring at her with emerald green eyes. She sat up, her tail between her legs. "I'm harmless," she whispered.
"I see that," the wolf told her, padding closer.
"Be cautious, step slow, stay away," Maple hissed under her breath.
"Who are you?" the stranger asked, his black-tipped ears twitching rapidly. "I don't know you."
"I'm Maple," Maple whimpered. "From Cove of Stars."
"We've been waiting for you," he said. "Come with me."
~•~
"Why?" Maple demanded, leaping to her paws.
"Azalea wants to speak to you," he said.
Maple reluctantly followed him to a huge den. Azalea was sitting outside with a tall brown wolf.
"Hi," Azalea mumbled. "Um. Maple, this is my cousin Pyrite. Pyrite, this is Maple."
Pyrite nodded, flicking her tail.
Two wolves climbed onto a stump. One, a light cream she-wolf with black rosettes and a white muzzle, called out, "Flowerstones, join us!"
Five or six other wolves joined them under the stump, followed by three pups.
"This is Maple," the she-wolf said. "Maple, I am Mica. My mate here is Pokeweed. We are the Flowerstone alphas, and we would like to invite you to live with us."
THE END
Winter 
Day 
