Miska

[miska]

• Name - Miska
  
• Age - Approximately five months
  
• Gender - Fæmme
  
• Appearance - Although small for her age, Miska is developing the hard muscle and tone of an adult, and is just beginning to grow into her seemingly abnormal size paws and ears. A thickening coat of dark grey and black dominates her hue, although her puppyish, ivory undercoat remains. Sleek and strong, her small muzzle leads to her brilliant, liquid gold eyes.
  
• History - Ignorant of the impact of her history on her future, Miska habitually awaits the return of her littermates and parents, and routinely ignores the anguish and worry inside when she awakens to another day alone.
  

Like many wolves trying to survive with the growing population of human dens, her pack often and unintentionally angered the villagers with their hunts and mere appearances, however brief. With summer drifting toward the lands of her pack, game became rich again, and the wolves hunted the wild lera once again. This was about the time when Miska and her littermates were born. For a while, the humans seemed content about the disappearance of another threat to their breeding livestock until a few months after, when a small, bitter taste of Autumn sprung on the air.

A lone wolf had managed to slip through the pack territories, or so the adults believed, but one varg, kerl or one of their own, snuck into the human pens and was overcome with bloodlust. The amount of animals slaughtered was more than enough to rally the villagers in anger and malcontent. The men of the nearest village set about painting tar upon the trees in the forest in which the pack thrived, watching in triumph and grim satisfaction as the woods were set ablaze.

Smoke, like a deadly and poisonous snake, slithered into the pack den. Although it offered warning to those who were in a light slumber, those who did not wake up within a few minutes fell into the red meadow peacefully. Miska was one of those sleeping lightest, anxiously awaiting tomorrow when she had overhead the adults say they would take the pups out on a hunt. This was perhaps the most important factor that saved her life. Coughing suddenly, she awoke quickly and was abruptly taken into the Sickla’s jaws.

As far as the Sickla, Koura, knew she and Miska were the only two who made it out of the woods alive. Almost wishing that the killing would cease, Koura faintly heard the sound of angry dogs approaching and urged Miska to run as fast as she could. The Sickla turned around, a courageous snarl arising in her throat as she bared her fangs, shrinking back slightly as she did so. Dogs, in their foolish riot and need for wolf’s blood, did not notice the small tracks that led away from the noble Sickla’s slain body.