A small snout painted brown and white lifted into the air. She sniffed, breathing in the night, the combination of smells all coming to her at once.
She took a step back as she began to feel overwhelmed. But she still wasn’t used to the large paws or the tail. Then, finally, she tripped on a fallen log, stumbling back and falling to her side with a soft whimper.
Not far from where she lay, she could hear the others running through the trees with ease.
She had received her wolf almost a year ago, she was one of the oldest in the group, and yet, she struggled more than any other.
She sighed.
Her father had tried to push her to shift more, to return to her classes. All the others had returned after two weeks, but for her, it had been almost two months.
Even after her return, she had struggled to keep up, to practice on her own.
Joining the Mourning Call was mandatory. If not, she wouldn’t be here.
‘Cheer up, buttercup!’
