The sun, pale and faded, had settled behind a nest of mountains standing strong on the horizon. Darkness crept in slowly from above, shimmer stars trailing in its path. The gray, winter light shone on the endless miles of mountains and blue spruces, the sky a gradient of white to black. Deep below the spruces’ protection, the ground was laden with a freezing layer of snow, sparkling and sweeping into the air like dust. Under the steelblue needles of the spruce, a wolf with silver fur and a frosted muzzle was curled into a tight, warm mound. Her soft breath bellowed a white mist, writhing through the flurries as it dissipated into nothing. Safe from the bitter cold, she dreamt of her surroundings, silent and still, calm and quiet. No burden weighed in her mind. The winter had taken good care of her, snowy rabbits and foolish squirrels bounding directly into her claws, storms avoiding the mountain’s path, nights relatively warm under the thick, fine layers of her ashen coat.

A swift rush of restlessness passed through her, and her misty eyes blinked open, her acute senses slowly coming into focus. Her ear twitched with a sudden echoing noise. A deep, low thunder rattled the sky in the distance as the sun finally dipped below the ground and darkness overtook the mountains. Quick, unsteady flashes of light snapped behind a peak far beyond the wolf’s tree. An uneasy panic set aflame inside her chest, and her heart pounded as she leapt to her paws.
A wolf is wise, knowing, intelligent, and careful. Despite her experience alone and in the cold, she was without a pack. No ravens to guide her to prey, no home to return to at the day’s end. But nonetheless, she pressed on, and her slowly, listening steps quickened into a trot, then to a run. Another wolf’s skill is endurance. She leapt over snow-covered logs and dangerous drifts, the warning thunder and shattering lighting far behind. If the clouds began to rain, it would turn to snow; and fresh, powdery snow was the hardest to traverse. Her heart and breathing soon synced the smooth rhythm of her pace, a pattern she knew too well, a skill she’d perfected with knowledge and time. The key to endurance was consistency, keeping powerful footfalls on packed snow so she didn’t fall beneath the ice where she’d surely freeze to death.
A memory flickered in the back of her mind. An image. It was a deep cavern nestled under deep hills of the white powder, protected from the strengthening breeze that was beginning to stir the mountains. The wolf remembered how crystal icicles hung, cold and sharp, from the high ceiling. She saw this cave when she was trekking down the slopes, scouting for prey. The sparkling moonlit pools still lingered in her mind. It would make the perfect place to stay while the winter storm passed.

Tiredness tugged at her paws, slowing her down. It would be dangerous to stop now. Instead, she wound under firs and spruces, where the snow was sparser. It took some of the frozen strain off her footing. Soon, she rounded the large drifts and thick forests and was met with the beastly appearance of the cave. The entrance was seemingly consumed by snow, falling like white waterfalls over the gaping hole in the mountain. The wolf glanced at the sky. Gray clouds had covered the stars, roaring and growling ferociously with light and frozen rain. Quickly, she scurried inside, dodging sharp spears of ice and rock. The ground thankfully leveled out to a domed area with flat pools of water. Crouching beside the stillness, she lapped up the precious liquid in furious gulps. Heavy snow began to rain down outside the cave, rugged gale tearing at the forest outside.

Away from the danger, the wolf relaxed her aching muscles and her tail sheltered her from the worries of a frigid land. The coldness and loneliness of the empty wild seemed to fade as she fell into a soundless sleep.


A bright, steady light awoke her, startling her to her feet. But the cave was dark. So dark, in fact, the wolf could only see so far as the pool of water beside her, which had turned to ice. An uneasy sensation lay heavy within the cave as she searched frantically for hold. The stone floor of the cave had a thin layer of ice, where the condensation had frozen. She slid occasionally as she clawed for footing. It wasn’t very long before she found the translucent sheet of snow that lay like a blanket over the entrance. Panic sank into her fur with a fiery feeling. Her muzzle brushed apart the snow carefully. The entrance was blocked, but the storm appeared to be over. Only a still silence remained. The wolf heard a sudden crunching sound and a few heavy flakes of snow rained down from the frozen wall. She whimpered in fear and lept back, fur spiking. The wall would collapse if she continued digging, but she would die if she remained in the cave. Her thoughts focused on her empty stomach and her dry throat. She lapped up some water from the flat pool—she remembered where it was, of course—and wandered over to the frozen wall again. She stared, foggy eyes glistening with concern. Warily, she crept closer, nosing her way against the sharp snowflakes. A few more scattered down from above, but the gray morning light that traced through the snow to the other side was growing gradually brighter. To the wolf’s great relief, the latticework of snow was thinning.

Finally, she burst through the last of the snow with a leap like that of a fox. She crashed into a deep, powdery drift on the other side, the fresh cold burning her pelt. Something rumbled from above, and she struggled out of the drift, darting under a thick fir. She crouched, anxiously studying the shaking trellis of snow. It came crashing down in a heartbeat, white clouds of snow billowing from the cavern, stumbling down the slope and toward her like a landslide. In one cunning, swift motion, she spun on her paws and fled, bolting through the trees and snow. Her gray ears twitched with the sound of more snow falling. She’d caused an avalanche. And now she was fleeing toward life, death snapping at her tail. Wind whipped her left and right, and she finally stumbled into a small glen. Terror loomed in every corner. She shot out, muscles searing with pain, and scurried up a steep hill, where the snow would surely stop. She climbed, icy rocks scraping her paw pads as she clawed her way up the cliffside. Finally, panting out bitter air, she halted and stared down at the bleak landscape that’d almost killed her. The snowslide had foundered to a stop, leaving only the top halves of trees peeking out of the glacial rubble. The wolf shivered as she noticed it. The mountain of the cavern. A whole cliffside had shook free of its snow, now it was just barren rock. Somewhere deep below the white covering lay the entrance to the cavern, cold and lost. She felt a numbing loss as she suddenly forgot where she was. But she needn’t rely on knowledge, rather wisdom (as wolves do). She knew that on the other side of this mountain, prey would be safe and unknowing of the disaster that had happened. She would continue down the other side of the mountain, where she would survive and thrive throughout the rest of the bitter winter. When spring arose, she would prepare for the next winter, and the cycle would continue. It didn’t matter where she was, it mattered where she would be.

She was a wolf, after all.

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~ Lauren Summer ~
~ 7th Grade ~