A tail swung in my face and I batted it away, crouching at the edge of the den. Current pounced on top of me and we wrestled, sticking our paws into Mothers sleeping body.
     Mother reprimanded us with a gentle cuff to the ears and a warning growl. Current growled in apology and snuggled into the corner of the dark den, flicking his ears.
     I was a little resentful, as I knew I could have won. I was the oldest brother of the litter, Current the third. There used to be five of us, rolling and playing around, but we were born in late fall, the season when none of us should have been born.
     Father was killed by a hunter, out treading the last of danger-seasons. Mother was close to birthing then, and Father was looking for something to eat when a gunshot split through the air.
     It shook the entire forest with its ferocity, making hawks flap away screeching and male bears lumber away, running straight towards their den. Our pack tried to fight, to protect Father's dying body, at least bury it, but the hunter had his pack, too.
     Blood stained the dry grass and bodies fell softly onto the grass, as unmoving and still and the rocks around them. The humans shouted and brought out a long, slender thing, then roughly threw the wolves behind them, obscured by trees. One of their own had fallen as well, and they carried him much more gently onto a platform and left the clearing.
     That was when we tumbled out, as small and as vulnerable as our pack was to the hunters.