She should follow protocol, she knew, and pause at the borders and let a howl sing, notifying the pack of her presence and awaiting a greeting from a pack representative, but it was one thing she just could not do. The small, white wolfess was working to overcome a lot, but howling to tip a stranger off to her location was one thing she could not force of her small body. So into the Court she and her pups went, trekking over the loamy, damp forest floor in search of their kin. Often the girls got excited and ran ahead of her, but she would quickly call them back to her side. Though they were still so young, they were surprisingly obedient. Orin was too afraid to be raising girls who would not listen. Later in life they would surely be a nightmare, wandering off as children do. Yet for now, they hardly questioned her authority.
The dense forest thinned, and soon they moved through widely spaced trees. This place was more like an orchard than a forest, but Orin noticed no fruit. Not for a while, anyway, but eventually her eyes noticed a small, green-red orb among one of the trees.
“Girls, wait up a moment,” she said, spying the apple. Stepping under the branch, she tiptoed to reach it, but her fingers would not quite touch the smooth skin.
Just then, twin squeals broke the silence. Terror tore through Orin, zipping up her spine like lightening. She jerked, her footpaws slipping on the wet ground, but managed to keep her balance. Amidst splashing puddles her pups were quickly retreating in the distance. “Girls! Wait!” She shouted in fear and began to run after them, when suddenly the words the girls were saying began to make sense.
“Chicken head! Chicken head!” They chanted in unison. Orin stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing to peer through the gray drizzle that rained down on them. A smile cracked her muzzle as she watched two muddy, clucking children leap at an unsuspecting gray back.