Chapter 4
The First Snowfall
The forest is blanketed in white. The usual hunting grounds are barren, and the pack's stores dwindle. Fear begins to creep into the hearts of the wolves as hunger becomes a tangible threat.
The world had turned to white. Soft, silent flakes, like tiny feathers shed from the wings of sleeping owls, drifted down from a sky the color of old pewter. Luna, her breath pluming in the frigid air, watched them swirl and dance, a breathtaking ballet that transformed her familiar forest into a hushed, enchanted realm. But the beauty was a fragile thing, a thin veil over a growing unease.
The usual rustle of mice beneath the leaf litter was gone, replaced by the muffled silence of snow. The scent of deer, once a tantalizing whisper on the wind, was now a distant memory, buried deep beneath the frozen earth. Even the plump rabbits, usually so bold, were nowhere to be seen. Their familiar hunting grounds, once teeming with life, were now stark and barren, a cruel reminder of the changing season.
A shiver, not entirely from the cold, traced its way down Luna’s spine. She nudged closer to Elder Rowan, his thick, grey fur a comforting warmth against her flank. He was watching the snow too, his wise, amber eyes holding a flicker of something Luna couldn't quite decipher – a deep understanding, perhaps, or a quiet resignation.
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