I trot through the snow, the thick blanket crunching beneath my paws. Dodge is following to my left. We've been traveling for about half a day now, and we're about halfway to Eagle Hill Pack's territory. I can hear Storm Creek babbling, cutting swiftly through the snow, too quick to freeze. We've seen a few groups of humans, which were busily cutting down a few towering trees. The dogs they have with them to tow the trees back to their camp are rather easy to avoid as long as we keep our distance.
       Panting, I stop on the opposite bank of the creek. The water is crystal clear, cascading in a pristine torrent over round, purplish rocks. I quickly lap up some of the near freezing water.
To my delight, my eye catches the glint of a few silver fish battling the current. I know that it's against the Law to hunt in another Pack's territory, but I justify my actions by reminding myself that we're harboring them in our camp. I think we have the right to a fish or two. 

"Hey, let's take a quick break and have a few fish." I say, turning to address Dodge.

       I shoot my snout into the water, opening my jaws and receiving one of the silver fish in my teeth. I haul the writhing, shimmering fish from the frigid creek. I dump it onto the snow, and it dies almost instantaneously from the cold and my sharp teeth. I repeat those steps a few times until I have a few fish in a pile on the ground. The ones on the bottom are already half frozen, along with the wet fur on my face, which is now spiked with frost. The ice makes the scar on my eye ache a bit, but it's more of a dull pain that ebbs and flows for a few seconds, interchanging levels of pain until it finally fades.
        I toss a few of the fish over to Dodge, flicking my forepaw to slide them over the snow in his direction. I quickly begin to wolf my own fish down, an immense feeling of relief filling my body. The scarcity of food has certainly taken its toll on me.
       Running all day does make a canine hungry, and that's added onto the fact that the amount of prey in the forest is dwindling. The disease is spreading at a rapid pace, with us discovering plenty of dead, diseased animals. The fish are gone in half a minute, and barely any time is wasted. We keep moving on our way, leaping through the deep snow of the unclaimed territory between Storm Creek and Eagle Hill. Some Pack groups prefer to have their territories share borders, but long ago, our original Alphas knew that this would only lead to skirmishes.
      Once the pine trees start to thin out and the land starts to slope upwards, I know that we're nearing Eagle Hill Pack territory. It's more of a plateau, but it was named long ago by the first Alpha to dominate that territory. Same thing with the Whitetail Valley. Sometimes I wonder what the Alphas were like so long ago. The stories say that they were four amazing, powerful wolves.
The Packs are all named after the first Alpha to lead them. Eagle, Storm, Bearclaw, and Whitetail.
I've only visited Eagle Hill once. Near the end of my puphood, along with a few other wolves my age, I was brought during a routine check of the Pack, to make sure our Packs were on good terms. Everything went well. The Alpha, Furrow, came out to meet us. I was very excited.
        I'm clouded with nostalgia as a scent I haven't smelled in a long time reaches my nose. The outer border of Eagle Hill Pack is heavily marked, most likely due to the humans being in the area. They're usually very lax with their borders, but now they've upped security. We're only inside for a moment before a bark sounds from the bushes.
      My ears flick forwards and my tail juts straight out. A patrol of four wolves leap from the bushes, surrounding us in a four point box.

"State your business!" A brown female with a cream underbelly shouts out.

      This Pack usually has almost no border control at all. And when they do, it usually would take them a while to realize that there were wolves in their territory. When I was here in my youth, we reached their camp before anyone even noticed.

"We come from the Whitetail Valley Pack. We wish to speak with your Alpha." I say calmly. Better not to anger this hair-trigger wolf.

      The wolf lashes her brown tail. She steps forward, throughly scenting us both to check our origins.

"She's telling the truth. But tell me, why do you have a dog with you? Your Pack has no dogs in it." She says, turning to me.

"We rescued a dog team from the humans a few weeks ago. They are loyal to our Pack now." I tell her.

      She nods, her previously raised tail lowering comfortably. One of the other patrol wolves speaks out.

"He looks like a wolf. Partly, anyway." He points out.

"My grandfather was a wolf, as I was told by my mother." Dodge explains with a shrug. 

      That's interesting news. It was obvious that he was not all dog, but it's interesting to know which ancestor of his was a wolf.

"That's interesting. I'll lead you to the camp." The brown she-wolf tells us.

        She leads us through the forest, the trees growing thinner by the moment. At one point, the hill grows steep enough for me to need to hold tightly to the snow with my blunt claws. I can tell that we're growing closer when the land starts to flatten out.

"So, I haven't asked your names yet." The brown wolf mentions as she leads us through the thin pines.

"My name is Cadmium." I tell her.

"I'm Dodge." Dodge calls from behind me.

The brown she-wolf nods.

"I'm Adder. And my fellows are Goshawk, Moccasin, and Spirit." She says, pointing her snout at each wolf as she says their name.

         Goshawk is a tall, lanky male with dark gold and brown fur. He looks like a sprinter. Moccasin is a dark brown, almost black male, with lighter brown markings scattered across his pelt. Spirit is a light grey, with bright silver eyes. She's young, but not a pup. Probably somewhat new to the scouting force.
         We pad into the Eagle Hill camp, and I look around. We're high above most of the forest, and we have a good view of the entire territory. The trees are thin, and the dens are made up of piled sticks, branches, and snow. One of the first things I notice is the low amount of adult wolves in the camp. I assume that they're all out hunting for what little prey is left in the forest. There are a lot of pups ambling around, all thin and bony as my Pack. The humans must have hit Eagle Hill hard, too. Their mothers are carefully watching them, waiting and hoping that the hunting patrols will come home to them with food for their pups.
         A pup stumbles through the snow in front of me, nearly jumping underneath my moving paws. I stop before I get a chance to step down onto it. It trips over my other paw, falling onto the snow.
    The grey pup leaps to his feet, bumbling back in the opposite direction back to his mother. I continue on my way, wondering why so many pups have been born during a food shortage. Certainly they know that having pups during this time isn't a good idea. And then I realize. This territory is usually bountiful with prey, so they have a lot of pups. But now that prey is low, the pups are hungry. I lower my head when I realize how many will starve by the time all of this is over.
       I look up to see the Alpha, Furrow, approaching us. He's older than he was when I last saw him, but still going strong.

"Adder, who are these wolves?" Furrow asks in a friendly tone. His voice is somewhat high pitched, but it's surprisingly nice to listen to.

"Cadmium and Dodge. They come from the Whitetail Valley Pack, and requested to see you." She explains with a sharp nod.

       Furrow's soft, brown eyes twinkle with a friendly charm.

"Well, let's see if we can help them out, eh?"