Nightfang was patrolling the border of their land, making sure to sniff out if there were any scents of rival packs. And especially the poacher's that have been near their territory. Batclaw has been strict on who left and entered the den, ever since Redpelt was almost killed by a creature that called itself the Hyena.

Nightfang had never seen Batclaw panicked. And now that Softpaw was carrying his pups, he was acting more like a fretting mother hen than her.

Soon enough, and unsurprisingly, Nightfang got distracted and found himself a long soft patch of grass. He grinned, searched the valley before he rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air while wiggling like a pup.

He missed this. Being able to be young. Before his parents were poached and skinned by hunters. Before Batclaw found him and ushered him into the reserve he lived inside of. Nightfang was from a nomadic pack. His parents and their friends the only wolves who remained constant in his life.

It was a difficult change, having to stay in one place and grow up too fast. He couldn’t fail Batclaw. He knew the elder loved him. Cared for him as of he was his own pup. But he still felt like he needed to prove himself to the elder.

It was almost as if when he became an adult, and gained his name, he became a pup once more. Always wanting to play and run and-

“What are you doing?”

He let out a yelp of surprise and rolled to his feet. It was one of the new wolves from the pack the humans had brought in. Most likely from over poaching. But that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he, eldest of the Darkpack was rolling in the warm grass like a pup! He could feel embarrassment rise in his chest as he looked up at the other wolf.

He’d never seen a pelt of that color. The way the dusk sun light up their form. He cracked an awkward smile and shifted his haunches.

“Could you pretend you didn’t see that? Uhm.. I’m Nightfang. You are?”