**The Wolves That Howled at the Moon**
In the snow-laden forests of the Scottish Highlands, where the wind whistles through the pines and winter nights stretch endlessly, there lived a pack of wolves led by Rowan and Elspetha pair bound not just by blood, but by a tale the old woods still whisper of.
Rowan had been a lone wolf when he found her. Hed lost his pack in a landslide, and since then, hed wandered aimlessly, avoiding hunters, villages, and other wolves. His heart was a tangle of scars.
Elspeth appeared one moonless night, thin, limping, with a torn ear and eyes full of firebut no fear. She was a fierce she-wolf, exiled from another pack for defying the alpha to protect her cubs. Shed lost them, but never her pride.
Rowan didnt attack. Nor did he run. They simply watched each other. And in that frozen silence, they recognised ittwo shattered hearts still brave enough to beat.
From that day, they hunted together. Slept back to back. Learned to trust, bit by bit, in their own wild way. There were no grand vows, no rituals. Just companionship, respect, and a loyalty that asked no proof.
Over the years, they raised their own pack. Had pups. Taught the young to fear neither snow nor darkness. Rowans howls were deep and long, like drums echoing through the valley. Elspeths were sharp and bright, like ice arrows splitting the air.
But when they howled together the sky listened.
Biologists say wolves howl to mark territory or call their kin. But the old shepherds of the Highlands know another truth: some wolves howl for love.
One bitter winter, Rowan never returned from a hunt. Elspeth searched for days. Each night, she climbed the highest crag and howled. But he never came back. All she found were pawprints vanishing into the gorge.
Elspeth refused to eat. Refused to hunt. She only climbed the crag at dusk and let out her cry. Short. Piercing. Relentless.
Until one night, beneath the northern lights, an answer came.
A deep howl. Distant. Familiar.
Scientists would say it was another maleperhaps challenging her, perhaps seeking her place.
But Elspeth didnt snarl in reply. She sat on the crag, closed her eyes, and howled as she had the first time.
And in that moment, the winds stilled. The snow paused mid-fall. And a perfect, twin howl wrapped around the glen like a sacred hymn.
By dawn, she was gone.
The shepherds found the crag empty. Only two sets of pawprintsside by sideled toward the mountains peak. As if two wolvesone unseenhad walked together, melting into the horizon.
Even now, each winter, when the first heavy snow falls, Rowan and Elspeths offspring lift their voices to the sky. Not from fear. Not to call their kin.
But because wild love leaves tracks even if the wind erases them.
