Third teaser for The Last Starling . . .

Post #3

Standing there, the throat of my enemy in my mouth, is a crowning moment for me. I feel it burn its way into my brain, a memory that will surface again and again as I patrol. It will serve as a reminder, a reason for staying sharp and keeping my guard up.

Keeping pack territory safe.

My dad chuffs quietly. His eyes shine with pride while Uncle Scott yips his support and Aiden does a little wolf-dance in the dirt. Above us, Boo lets out a hoot. Holding my prize, I bask in their approval. The times of regret, of feeling stuck here, fade away. This is what I was born to do.

This is who I am.

Our mind link shivers. It’s Gramps. He can’t project at this distance, but he can make us aware of his presence. The shiver means he wants to know what’s going on, if we’re okay.

Dad tips back his head to reply. His howl shatters the silence, joined quickly by similar howls from the others. Dropping my prize, I raise my blood-flecked snout to the tree canopy. Close my eyes, open my throat.

And howl in triumph.

Image Credit: Howling Wolf