In the snow-covered forests of the Scottish Highlands, where the wind whistles through the pines and the night can stretch on for days, there lived a pack of wolves led by Kieran and Neve, a pair bound not just by blood but by a tale the elders of the glen still whisper about.
Kieran was a lone wolf when he found her. Hed lost his old pack in a landslide, and since then, hed wandered without direction, avoiding humans, hunters, and other wolves. His heart was a tangle of half-healed wounds.
Neve appeared one moonless nightthin, limping, with a torn ear and eyes full of fire but no fear. She was a strong she-wolf, cast out from another pack for challenging the alpha to protect her pups. Shed lost them, but not her pride.
Kieran didnt attack. He didnt run. They just stared at each other. And in that icy silence, they recognized: two broken hearts with the courage to keep beating.
From that day on, they hunted together. Slept back-to-back. Learned to trust, bit by bit, in their own wild way. There was no I love you, no grand ritual. Just companionship, respect, and a loyalty that asked no proof.
Over the years, they built their own pack. Raised cubs. Taught the young ones not to fear the snow or the dark. Kierans howls were deep and long, like drums echoing through the woods. Neves were sharp and quick, like icicles shattering in the air.
But when they howled together the sky listened.
Biologists say wolves howl for territory or to call their kin. But the elders of the Highlands know another truth: some wolves howl for love.
One brutal winter, Kieran never returned from a hunt. Neve searched for days. Howled every night from the highest cliff. But he didnt come back. All she found were paw prints in the snow, vanishing into the ravine.
Neve didnt eat. Didnt hunt. Just climbed that cliff at dusk and let out her cry. Short. Sharp. Unrelenting.
Until one night, under the Northern Lights, someone answered.
A deep howl. Distant. Familiar.
Scientists would say it was another malemaybe challenging her, maybe wanting her place.
But Neve didnt snarl in reply. She sat on the cliff, closed her eyes, and howled like she had the first time.
And in that moment, the winds stilled. The snow stopped falling. And a perfect, twin howl wrapped around the valley like a sacred song.
At dawn, she was gone.
Shepherds found the cliff empty. Just two sets of paw prints, side by side, leading up the mountain. As if two wolvesone unseenhad walked together until they melted into the horizon.
Ever since, each winter when the first heavy snow falls, Kieran and Neves children lift their voices to the sky. Not from fear. Not as a call.
But because wild love leaves marks even if the wind tries to erase them.
