Thank you for the feedback. I need to pick a name before I write the next part. I'll wait till wednesday, see if anyone has any good ideas...then I'll pick one by myself out of a hat. ^_^
Thanks for reading!

Ok, Gonna start part 3 as soon as finals work is done. But, as far as names? No more ideas?

Thank you this was written beautifully
I look forward to any continuation of this


Akecheta: Sioux inorigin, meaning fighter

Ansgar: celtic in origin, meaning warrior

Bali: Hundu in origin meaning mighty warrior

Dima: meaning Powerful warrior, Slavic origin

Lutalo: meaning, Warrior. origin Uganda.

are good names for the rugged battle scard wolf


I hope this will help

nice job

Thank you so much! I think I'll probably use one of these as his name, especially because they have some meaning to them! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

no problem I'm just looking forward to reading the next part
:)

oh goodie, more story * waits excitedly*

Sorry for the delay. Being home with ones parents makes it a bit difficult to do any of this sort of writing.

((Ok, so no name release on our black wolf yet, but be reacy for some serious changes in the next part. I'm sure you'll enjoy it when it comes. Till then, I hope you enjoy this!))


Part 3, July:

They had been here almost a month now, and Christine knew their days together were growing short. The nights were still short, but the deer would soon move away from their lands, as they always did, leaving the Druids without any food. So she watched them for now, admiring the new wolves she had just met, as well as the old friends. The pups, for instance, had grown so much, even in these few weeks, and each had grown their own personalities to match.

The little brown one was growing much faster than the others, and was developing long, lean legs. The fur on the nape of his neck always stood up in spiky little peaks, giving him a rugged, wild little look. The stud, Christine chuckles to herself. He trotted around, head high, thin, but stout nose always catching scents as they passed him on the wind. His energy was obvious, and he broke into fits of joyful bounding every now and again. At the same time, however, he seemed to hold back his true nature, seeming the distant, strong type. More cat than wolf, Christine noted. His name had been fairly easy to pick out. She’d had a boyfriend like that once, with so much energy, but so much composure…plus he too had thought himself “all that.” Frederick, or Freddie, for short, it was.

The grey one was much different than his older brother. Barley was strong, calm, and utterly immovable. He was one of the best hunters in the pack, flawless in speed, style, and composure. Only with him was a kill sure. His little brother, however, was the biggest klutz Christine had ever seen in her entire life. He was always falling over his own feet, yelping as he fell on his face. One of his little ears always stood up straight, while the other lay flat and limp against his skull, the perfect representation of his lopsided personality. He was overly energetic, and shook with joy whenever any pack member showed him the slightest attention, though his brother rarely gave him the time of day. He seemed almost embarrassed that they were blood related. The pup, however, was always so ready to please. He crawled on his belly, licked and the muzzles of his father and mother, and whimpered and barked, trying to win any sort of affection he could manage. Christine had originally wanted to call him Steel, but the name didn’t suit him at all. He was far too much of a clown for such a serious name. Instead, she had settled on the comfortable, but quirky name of Teaspoon, or TS, when he grew up a little perhaps.

The little girl was the easiest. She was demure, small, and snippy. She snapped bitterly at her two brothers, and preferred lounging about rather than frolicking like a normal puppy would do. She always ate before her brothers, and refused any sort of babying her mother or father showed her. She was, in fact, the perfect little princess. She held herself regally; kept her coat spotlessly white…she was downright royal. Marie was the first name she had thought of, and was very true to her personality, after the beheaded French queen. She hoped that this pup would not end up the same way as her namesake.

Even with these new names, Christine felt an empty spot in her heart. While every other wolf had fallen into the pack, the black, loner male was snapped at and picked on by the rest. In the hunt, he always came back bloodies, and she wasn’t sure why, and he was always the last to eat, so his ribs showed through his coat. He kept his head low, growled at the pups, and hated to show and reverence to majesty. He was a rogue, and had an obvious problem with authority. And despite all these obvious unique personality traits, she had yet to find a good name for him. Today, she watched out the window as he lay atop a mound of dirt. The others ha gone out for the hunt, while he had remained behind. She wasn’t sure why exactly they had left him here…they had even taken the pups, for training she supposed. He lay, head resting numbly between his massive, dark-clawed paws, his liquid amber eyes only half open. He seemed elsewhere, as if he wasn’t really aware of the world around him. He didn’t even seem to realize that the pack was not around. Christine leaned her elbow on the windowsill and stared at the wolf, curious and fascinated by his blank expression. What was going on between those torn, tired ears? What did he think, what did he feel? If only he could speak, the questions she would ask him.

Far away, a wolf, probably Majesty, howled out a message. The black wolf’s ears propped up suddenly on his head, and his muzzle jerked up from the ground. He pushed himself tiredly up to a sitting position and stared fixedly to some mystical point in the night’s sky. Christine looked there as well, but failed to see what the wolf was staring so intently at. Then, without warning, he jerked back his head, and let out one, short, curt, howl. It was more a bark than a real howl, but its sound split the night like some sort of knife, and made Christine jump. Then, as he listened and no answer came, he slowly tipped his nose skyward and let a long, quavering howl float like a melody into the darkness. It was varied, so complex…and familiar. The third howl. Christine nodded, yes, it had to be. The loneliness was there, just as it had been a month ago, and it inspired that same familiarity it had before. She almost wanted to answer it, and felt a howl of her own swell in her throat. Involuntarily, a soft, low whistling imitation left her. The black wolf turned sharply to stare at her, as if saying, “what’s this?” She blushed deeply, and turned away from the questioning expression in the wolf’s eyes.

“Sorry…” She muttered. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

The wolf stared at her a moment longer before re-focusing on that invisible point in the night and launching another song towards the stars.


Majesty returned after some time had passed. He had no meat with him, nor did any of the other wolves. The pups whimpered, but found there was no food for them tonight, and soon quieted, and went to their den for sleep. Christine watched this with a heavy heart. It was true…the deer were leaving. Soon the wolves would leave as well. She turned her attention back to the black wolf. He was lying down again, and he blended so perfectly with the night, only his slitted, gold eyes were visible in the darkness. He looked so empty, so lost to the rest of this giant world. She slowly nodded at his lonely figure. She’d get a name for him before they left…It was the least she could do for him.

No one read the third part yet? A pitty...

OH NOES! Is it dead?!

like the story waiting for the rest good job

great story thanks for posting

YAY for it not beign dead!

Ok, just want to ask. Does anyone wan't me to continue? If no one does, I'll let it die. If so, speak up! and I'll get working.