Howling at the sun— the summer wolf was a real annoyance to the locals in Arcadia. The pack was protected under legislation that deemed them integral to the identity of the NW.

Vajk Abkenzia had worked as a trapper for the past twenty years. In all his seasons in the north, he had never seen a summer wolf in person. He had heard their lonesome calls, stepped on their scat, and he had even caught a chorus of yips from a litter of pups. But never had he laid his eyes upon them— until the solstice.

At the edge of the Arcadia forest and the start of Henge Mountain is a outcropping of boulders. That’s where Vajk saw them. It’s where he wished he could have spent twenty more seasons without having done so.

Patterned with short black stripes across tawny fur, the wolves were far larger than a normal grey wolves. They possessed a predatory magnetism that’s rarely found outside tigers and grizzly bears. His foot caught a branch and the crack brought the wolves attention to him. Their was a brief silence before the lead wolf growled.

“You shouldn’t be here.”