Red felt the wind in his fur like combing fingers of the forest. It was exhilarating bolting through the trees, over rocks and under fallen logs. What made it even more exciting was that he was currently beating his best mate, Sam, leaving the barely younger wolf in his wake.
With a gleeful yelp, he called over his shoulder. “Fallen behind there a bit Sam?” The smile on his muzzle faded a bit when he realized he couldn’t hear the pounding of paws from the direction the two were coming from. Nor could he see the brown wolf either. Slowing his pace until he was stopped, Red called again. “Sam?”
It was early morning and therefore the sun hadn’t the opportunity to warm the forest floor, causing Red’s breath came in faint white puffs as he caught his breath. The wolf turned in a circle, sniffing the air for danger, ears keen for any movement in the forest.
Like a lightening bolt, or trying to be one anyway, Sam shot over a tree trunk in a flurry of fallen leaves. “Catch me if you can slow poke!” With a cackle, Sam barreled past Red, moving with speed if not in awkward strides with his gangly legs (he’d yet to fully grow into those).
Sam heard the quick foot falls of his companion coming from his flank. He grinned to his right, catching a glimpse of red fur in his peripheral as the slightly larger male made head away. It wasn’t long until they were neck and neck, matched in their speed. It was then that Sam spun out, a wave of dirt, dead leaves, and twigs flying in an arch.
The wolf ignored the goading of his friend, instead sniffing hard both in the air and on the ground. It was a strange scent and startlingly fresh. “Red.” Sam called, somber in his expression. They had guests.
