I was born on a cold December night in a small barn near the more farming areas of Iowa. It was just me with a litter of 6. My sister and I were the only ones to survive the cold air. The rest of them either froze to death or didn't find a nipple in time. My mother is a red, black, and orange wolf. We never asked what her real name was, and she never said. We never met our father, he left for food one day and never came back. We all just assumed he was dead and my mother had to leave us once a day to get food so we could all nurse. All we would do for a great while is wake up, wait for mother, nurse and go to sleep. When we took our first steps our mother began to teach us how to hunt, fight, track a trail of scent and how to use our manners. There weren't many other furs around my area. My sister and I where the only ones we had. We would play tag in the thick underbrush near our barn. When we god older the barn became more unstable until one day the barn could barly keep together. My sister and I where playing hide and seek outside when we heard a loud snap then slam. We ran to the sound to investigate the sound. Mother was stuck under the massive weight of the fallen barn. My sister and I heaved with all out might but we just sprang backwards. MY sister and I just stood there laying next to my mothers dead, broken body. The last thing my mother said to my sister and I was "be good". My sister just hugged my and tried to stay strong for her. That night my sister was cuddling against the crude grave stone we used to mark where we buried our beloved mother. I got up and stroked her fur from her ears to her tail and then left. I didn't want to stay there anymore too many bad memories. My sister would be fine she always was best at hunting and staying quiet. I stood up and headed down the gravel trail, the dusty rock crunching under my feet as I looked down. -Beta The Wolf