He stood alone.
It was a rarity for the Alpha to be left unbothered, but this time the weight of his thoughts had urged him towards the outskirts of his territory. The familiar smell of the pack was weaker here, chased away by the cold fall winds. He was worried, as any Alpha would be with winter nipping at their heels. So far south, the winters they experienced were usually mild. Reflection couldn't shake the feeling that this winter would not be so kind. He did not know if it was paranoia that drove his thoughts or the spirits themselves whispering to him what was to come.
He could not help but doubt that the pack was ready. Already their main source of food's behavior had begun to change in preparation for the season. Some animals had scattered from the territory, others had decided to hunker down to endure what they could. Reflection could not imagine how the wolves who dared to live further north survived, not when he had a feeling that his own pack would struggle. To have such little faith in his pack was shameful, but he could not shake the feeling that something bad was coming.
Reflection would have to converse with She Sings of Amber Autumns and see what she had interpreted from the spirits. He could not be the only one in the pack experiencing this paranoia. Turning to his betas now would not be ideal, not when it came to the spiritual matters. He'd find his... he'd find She Sings of Amber Autumns first and receive her opinions before directing his betas how to act and prepare for the coming winter.
The white wolf flinched, feeling a drop of chill upon his nose. Focusing his attention up towards the sky, his stomach sank. Nausea threatened to creep up the back of his throat as he witnessed the first few snowflakes descend from the sky. No. It was too soon for snow, they should have had a few more weeks before it came down upon them. Swallowing down his anxiety, he turned on his heels to return to the heart of the pack.
By the time he made it home, snow was falling in fat flakes, heavy and wet. It was just warm enough that the snow did not stick to the ground. Instead, it sunk in, leaving little trace that it had ever landed. His eyes scanned for a certain dark female, but his search was cut short by a thrilled screech. "Father!"
His daughter, She Whispers of Winter's Whimsies, skidded to a stop just in front of him. Laughter was carried upon her breath, her green eyes alight with joyous wonder. She spun in a circle with her gaze lifted towards the skies. Breathless, she spoke, "Father, it's just as beautiful as I had imagined." The words brought a small, reserved smile to his face. It was an expression that rarely surfaced, but his children seemed to always find a way to coax it from him.
"It is, isn't he?" he agreed, painfully keeping that smile in place. His stomach twisted, and fear threatened to settle in his heart. But, he would wear this mask for her - for his pack.
