At first, there was nothing. The darkness was all she could see. Her mind, undeveloped yet changing rapidly as she began to undergo the evolution of a fetus into a cub, could not discover what she was, or who she was. Suddenly she was pushed into the world, and soon discovered a mother, father, and a sister. Suckling silently, she then drifted into a long bout of sleep. A great deal of time later the bantling was roused by a playful nuzzle from her elder sister, Eris, greeted by frantic licks and nudges from her snout.

"Wake up, Rhiannon!"

Yawning as she rose to stand upon all fours, tail drooped to hang limp against flank. Sighing as her eyelids dropped slightly to shield her deep golden hued eyes from the luminous disc that had risen in the sky to light up the blanket of pale blue and lavender. Scoffing as Eris seemed much too excited to begin the day, she reclined upon ebonite haunches, her pelt rippling in the wind. As her sister beckoned her onward, Rhiannon lifted her form once more to stand, and silently she trailed after the other canine. Rhiannon was now nearly an age of several months, she had grown in size since her birth, and had knowledge of things such as plants, insects, and other wolves. The pack was kind and always helpful, her sire and dam were obviously of rank within the cadre.

For an hour or so the whelps played an exciting game of tag within the forest, and for another hour they explored an abandoned rabbit hutch. On their return to the main gathering area where their den was located a sudden noise, loud and booming, echoed through the land. It was like thunder, though the sky was bright and clear on this day. Confused and worried, the two young maidens ran toward the den, though what the saw next made them freeze in their very tracks. Three creatures, strange creatures -- they were oddly colored and stood upon two legs -- were kneeling over a dead packmate. There was blood everywhere, and as they glanced around these carcasses were everywhere.

Frantically they ran to hide within a shrub, clenching their eyelids together to shield them from the horrific sight of the slaughtered pack. Their parents were nowhere to be found, however. Suddenly a yelp was heard from yards away, it was their mother. One of the monsters had kicked her side as she -- no, it was father -- mourned another canine, and then.. she was killed with the stick that made thunder. Hours later the whelps awoke to the empty lands, barren of life and their family.

Every carcass had been taken. There were stains of blood, and the stench of fire was everywhere. Silently the pair retreated to the den, the only place they could be safe. They were now completely alone.