In the snow-laden woods of northern Scotland, where the wind whispers through the pines and night stretches for days, there lived a pack of wolves led by Rowan and Elspeth, a pair bound not just by blood but by a tale the elders of the forest still tell.
Rowan was a lone wolf when he found her. He had lost his former pack to an avalanche, and since then, he wandered without purpose, avoiding humans, hunters, and other wolves. His heart was a tangle of half-healed wounds.
Elspeth appeared on a moonless nightthin, limping, with one ear torn and eyes blazing with fury, but not fear. She was a fierce she-wolf, cast out from another pack for defying the alpha to protect her pups. She had lost them, but not her pride.
Rowan did not attack. Nor did he flee. They simply stared at one another. And in that frozen silence, they recognized each other: two shattered hearts still brave enough to beat.
From that day, they hunted together. Slept back-to-back. Learned to trust, slowly, in their own wild way. There was no I love you, no grand ritual. Just companionship, respect, and a loyalty that needed no proof.
Years passed, and they raised their own pack. Had pups. Taught the young to fear neither snow nor dark. Rowans howls were deep and long, like drums echoing in the forests chest. Elspeths were sharp and quick, like ice arrows piercing the air.
But when they howled together the sky listened.
Biologists say wolves howl for territory or to call their kin. But the old Highland storytellers know another truth: some wolves howl for love.
One bitter winter, Rowan never returned from a hunt. Elspeth searched for days. Each night, she howled from the highest crag. But he did not come back. Only footprints in the snow, vanishing into the ravine.
Elspeth did not eat. Did not hunt. She only climbed the crag at dusk and let loose her cry. Short. Sharp. Unyielding.
Until one night, beneath the northern lights, an answer came.
A deep howl. Distant. Familiar.
Scientists claimed it was another maleperhaps challenging her, perhaps seeking her place.
But Elspeth did not snarl in reply. She sat upon the rock, closed her eyes, and howled as she had the first time.
And in that moment, the forest winds stilled. The snow halted mid-fall. A twin howl, perfect and whole, wrapped the valley like a hymn.
At dawn, she was gone.
Shepherds found the crag empty. Only two sets of printsside by sideled away toward the mountains peak. As if two wolvesone unseenhad walked together into the horizon.
Ever since, each winter, when the first heavy snow falls, Rowan and Elspeths children lift their voices to the sky. Not from fear. Not as a call.
But because wild love leaves marks even if the wind erases them.
