FanFiction: Conall's Pack (Old) by Orpingtonchicken

This is my old fanfiction, Conall's Pack. I am in the process of re-writing it and adding more details, which I will publish later as Styginmoor's Son.

Warning: Wolves are good here. I know, its ridiculous, but if you hate the idea and want to point out all the parts where they are pure evil (because they are! I know that!) then please don't even read this. This is basically a "what if" story, not one that branches off from the actual story. "What if the wolves were alright fellows?" Let's see...

Summary
This is Bella's Gift told from Conall's point of view. Meet the wolves of Styginmoor and see Conall's choice through his eyes when he is torn between two things no-one should ever face: his heart and everything his spirit is fighting him to do. What will Conall choose when his best friend rebels against the one women Conall has been loyal to his entire life?

Prologue: The Smallest Cub
Distant mountains continued to grasp the blazing sun as it rose. Myrfor paced in front of the den of his mate, Sundew. His huge shadow was cast over the dying grass that surrounded Styginmoor. Nothing, not even hope, seemed able to grow in this desolate place he called home.

Myrfor's ears drooped when he thought about his growing responsibilities. ''How will I manage? All of our plans...and children? Now? How will I raise them with the fire of wolves? I have to harden them, make them see how harsh we must be. That is the only way to power and safety. I will raise them loyally, with the urge for destruction that will help our pack survive.''

The partnership between Myrfor and Ivenna was older than most of the wolves in Myrfor's pack. How young and determined he had been. Now he had everything he'd ever wanted: power (over a pack, not his enemies just yet) and supporters, all a wolf could want in his future. Then there were those horses! They were smarter than any prey, more magical than any wolf, and maybe even smarter than Myrfor and Ivenna themselves. What had once been respect now burned as hatred in Myrfor's heart. They had to leave. No, they had to DIE.

"Myrfor?"

Stormcall, a young beta of Styginmoor's wolves, trotter toward his superior. With a curt nod that Myrfor took as a bow, he delivered the news Myrfor had been waiting for all morning. "They're here," Stormcall barked. "Myrfor, you're a father."

Myrfor's tail wagged slightly. "How many?"

"Two she-wolves and one son," Stormcall replied.

Sundew called them from inside the den she had called. "Myrfor! Some and see!" she said, her voice tired but happy.

Beside his mate, Myrfor's three cubs were curled helpless and motionless. One was a pale she-cub with a white streaked coat like her mother. The other female was dark gray with Myrfor's markings. Finally there was the he-wolf with a pelt so gray it was almost black. Myrfor sniffed at his only son. The tiny creature seemed healthy, but he was small, even for a newborn. "A runt," Myrfor murmured. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. ''He'll just have to fight. We all have to.''

"Have you named them yet?" he asked Sundew.

Sundew shook her head. "I had a few in mind, but I firgured you'd like to help."

Myrfor nodded. He licked the first she-wolf. "Elan, I was thinking," Sundew said after a few moments of thought. The littel wolf squirmed as if she knew her name despite having not even opened her ears and heard for the first time.

"And this one." Sundew nudged the darker she-cub gently. "I came up with Duska for her, and for the male...I guess that's up to you. Nothing comes to mind."

Myrfor thought for a moment. "Conall," he said. A name for a warrior, the fighter this pup would one day be.

Conall laid by his mother's side, wet and innocent as his sisters. The future traitor of Styginmoor, welcomed and warm.

''I will get the rest up later. Please comment and let me know if you are willing to help with the rewrite!''