It was another normal day in Wolfville; the sun was up, the skies a clear, bright blue.
A young pup was outside alone, chasing what appeared to be a feather along the dusty track. Ascher was now 3 months old, still appearing to be a regular wolf pup. His fur was a pale, chocolately brown, creamy undersides beginning to come through stronger. His bright blue eyes had not changed; it seemed he would have them for life.
Little paws slapped the ground as he went, throwing up puffs of dust. The feather danced before him on a light breeze, just out of reach. A little growl rumbled in his chest and he leapt after it. "Come here!" He reached for it, but in the style of uncoordinated pups, missed spectacularly.
He landed heavily on his paw and his leg gave way beneath him. The pup fell head over heels, before stopping in a tangled mess on his back. He looked around him, taking great delight in seeing the world upside-own. He grinned showing small, pointed teeth, and made no move to get up. This was interesting to him; everything looked so strange and different.