Night snuck out of the den and spotted old Half Moon. He didn't know why he was going to see him. Half Moon didn't really have a rank in the pack. He was just... there. Night settled down beside Half Moon. 

          "I knew you'd come," Half Moon said. Night didn't like Half Moon's tone. 

          "I have to wake up early tomorrow," said Night. 

           "I know," replied Half Moon. "Hear that?" Night pricked his ears. Howling, from far in the mountains, where sometimes the snow could reach. Night nodded. 

           "Wolves," Night said. "The Mountain Pack." 

           "Yes, the Mountain Pack," agreed Half Moon. "If you ever become Alpha of the pack, you'll howl everynight, won't you?" Night frowned. He wasn't going to become Alpha. Strike would. 

            "Ok," Night said nonetheless. 

            "Look at the moon," Half Moon said. Night gazed up. "It's bright. Enough to light up the night. But not too bright. You can look at its beauty, stare straight at it, unlike the sun. And you can still hide. The moon lets you hide." Night frowned. He fluffed up his fur as a strong wind blew. 

             "Do you like the Mountain Pack?" asked Night. 

             "I've encountered them before," Half Moon said with narrowed eyes. "They're brutal, violent. Red leads the pack very softly compared to their leader, Moose." 

               "So do you like them?" asked Night. 

                "No, they are not our pack," replied Half Moon with a shrug. "You should go back to sleep. You're going hunting tomorrow." Night nodded and reluctantly returned to his den, thinking about what Half Moon had told him.