In the snow-covered forests of the Scottish Highlands, where the wind whistles through the pines and the nights stretch endlessly, there lived a pack of wolves led by Rowan and Elaraa pair bound not just by blood, but by a tale the old forest still remembers.
Rowan was a lone wolf when he found her. Hed lost his last pack in a landslide, and since then, he wandered aimlessly, avoiding humans, hunters, and other wolves. His heart was a tangle of half-healed scars.
Elara appeared one moonless nightthin, limping, with a torn ear and eyes blazing with fury but no fear. She was a fierce she-wolf, exiled from another pack for standing up to the alpha to protect her cubs. Shed lost them, but not her pride.
Rowan didnt attack. He didnt run. They just stared. And in that icy silence, they recognized each other: two broken hearts still brave enough to keep beating.
From that day, 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 ceremony. Just companionship, respect, and a loyalty that needed no proof.
Over the years, they built their own pack. Raised cubs. Taught the young ones not to fear the snow or the dark. Rowans howls were deep and long, like drums echoing through the woods. Elaras were sharp and piercing, like ice arrows in 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 shepherds know another truth: some wolves howl for love.
One especially harsh winter, Rowan never returned from a hunt. Elara searched for days. Howled every night from the highest cliff. But he didnt come back. All she found were tracks in the snow, vanishing into the ravine.
Elara stopped eating. Stopped hunting. She just climbed the cliff each dusk and let out her cry. Short. Sharp. Unyielding.
Until one night, under the shimmer of the Northern Lights, an answer came.
A deep howl. Distant. Familiar.
Scientists would say it was just another malemaybe challenging her, maybe claiming her place.
But Elara didnt snarl in reply. She sat on the cliff, closed her eyes, and howled as she had the very first time.
And in that moment, the forest winds stilled. The snow paused mid-fall. And a perfect, echoing duet wrapped around the valley like a sacred hymn.
No one saw her at dawn.
Shepherds found the cliff empty. Only two sets of pawprintsside by sideled toward the mountains peak. As if two wolvesone unseenhad walked together, merging with the horizon.
Ever since, each winter when the first heavy snow falls, Rowan and Elaras cubs howl at the sky. Not from fear. Not to call the pack.
But because wild love leaves marks even if the wind tries to erase them.
