The year was 277 in the known wolf realm. The third month of Summer.
As the blistering heat began to be replaced by a more frequent rain, there was also a gradual shift in the forest. Some of the trees had started to shed their leaves, turning shades of gold and rust as they prepare for the fall. The fields that were once full of wildflowers were now covered in dry grass, their colors fading as they wither away.
In the midst of the fading forest was a pale white wolf walking by himself. Throughout the Summer, the abundance of food did him well, but still couldn't fix the emptiness in his eyes. A warmer shade of green, as striking as his father's. He inherited most of his father's traits: his thick build, his handsome features, his wirey fur. And his lack of direction in life.
The young male seemed to blend into the forest, almost as if he was trying to disappear. He moved quietly, as if trying to avoid any unwanted attention or interaction. But in truth it was not so. It was because he had lost his sense of purpose, and was simply wandering aimlessly through the woods--hoping to magically find some meaning or direction in his life.
His father still had his strong mother to devote his life to.
Payada also used to have something to devote his life for--the throne. It didn't matter that the other pups had all the time to play with each other while he was out bruising his body trying to keep up with the pack's adults as they went on hunting expedition. It didn't matter that the adults cooed and crooned over the other pups except him, he was mature for his age.
It used to worry him that the pup who was to be his future beta, Raksa, looked at him with indifference. It gave him relief that his former promised retainers, Lakeswara and Garin, treated him like a little brother and took care of him- even if they were actually younger than him. They were loyal, and they liked him enough at least. Perhaps that would be enough to sustain his future reign.
Those were all for naught, now.
When his mother was toppled from the throne by the third month of Spring, everything Payada was raised for all his puphood crumbled. Raksa took over the title Alpha's Heir without a hitch. Perhaps Payada should be thankful that Raksa did so without saying any taunting word to him. Not even one word, in fact. Raksa simply accepted his new position without showing much emotion, as if it was the natural order of things.
And Payada was left with one nagging question: what should he live for, now?