Growling, I stare out at the snow. It's been like this all day, but it seems to be slowing down. It is late afternoon, and I expect it to end by sundown. We plan to leave as soon as the snow gets weak enough, so we'll most likely be running through the night. It's a bit more dangerous than most travels, but we can't afford to waste any more time.

        For several hours, we wait in the den and talk. I speak not of my dream, worried that Dodge won't understand it's possible significance. It's hard to hold conversation when I'm constantly worrying about their dream. 

       Throughout the day, my mind is clouded with paranoia. What did Whitetail mean? Who is the wolf that can't be trusted? I try to keep these thoughts at bay, but they still keep gnawing at me. I reassure myself with the fact that I know I can trust Dodge. He's a dog, and Whitetail specifically said that it was a wolf.
      When the storm finally begins to fade into a light snowfall, I decide that it's time to leave. I pad out of the den with Dodge in tow, breathing in the cold, fresh air. We bid our goodbyes to Furrow, and I tell him that we will send a messenger when the time to attack comes.
      My pawsteps crunch loudly in the fresh snow. It is abnormally deep after the storm, and many sharp sticks are submerged. My paws sting from the ones I have stepped on. The storm ravaged the forest. A few dead trees have been knocked over completely, and the ground is riddled with snapped branches. With the thick layer of snow, I barely even see Storm Creek until I have nearly fallen in. I pull back at the last moment, sending a shower of snow into the water.
      My nose curiously hovers over the water, in search of more fish. Most of them seem to have swum into the large river that this creek connects to, but a few remain. I snap up as many as we need, and split them between Dodge and I.
       Once they are completely finished, every last scrap of fish devoured with ravenous speed, we move forward. The forest is dark and unusually silent. I believe that a lot of the animals have fled this area, considering that the humans have taken over the Storm Creek camp. They don't want anything to do with those hairless beasts, and I don't blame them. It's depressing to see this territory empty, but I remind myself that if we can successfully pull off our plan, we won't have to worry about the humans anymore.
       The nights in the forest are even colder than the days, but we are used to it. The cold is everlasting, but dips down to even more frigid temperatures during the winter months. That's when most storms come. Last night was the first winter storm, which means that many more are to come. 
       The freezing snow seeps into my fur, but I continue. I assume that Dodge has it worse, as he may not be used to this forest. I remind myself that he was a sled dog, though. He must have lived through his share of cold nights. Maybe even more than I have, considering that the dogs are just roped to a post and left out at night. We, at least, have our dens.
       The scent of Whitetail Valley Pack borders is a wonderful relief. The markers go pretty far out, but it means that we're close. I hold my ears high as I trot forward.

        I pad into the camp with Dodge beside me, a light smile on my face. It falls when I see the other wolves. They're just as skinny as before, and they've clearly found no food. I start to feel guilty about those fish. I pray that the rest of the Pack won't feel anger towards us for not bringing any back.
      Alpha Granite pads into view, head tilted slightly. 

"How did it go?" He asks immediately. 

"Furrow was very kind, and he accepted the offer. Eagle Hill Pack will be going up against the humans with us." Dodge tells him in an unusually professional tone.

       A faint smile crosses Granite's rugged face, but it fades quickly.

"Well. Cadmium, Dodge, I'm very proud of you both. You did very well. Unfortunately, while you were gone, several wolves were infected by the disease, which has been spreading more rapidly than any of us could ever have expected. We had to... have them put out of their misery." He tells us solemnly.

        I lower my head respectfully, as is custom when word comes of another wolf's death. This news is very bad. Now that the disease can easily spread to wolves, we're all in danger. And I don't think I'll survive being bitten by a diseased animal a second time.