Rimefang despised the swamp and everyone in it.

Or rather, almost everyone.

She couldn’t hate him, even if he was everything she would normally want to tear apart. But being in the swamp had done strange things to her. Along with making her incredibly uncomfortable, itchy and constantly surrounded by bugs, she had become lonely.

Challenger’s presence suddenly hadn't been enough.

And so she had sought out a pack.

She had found one in the buck and his family, someone to run with, if only momentarily. It gave something solid to focus on, instead of the horrible regret and despair she felt when she thought of her mountain home.

The fact that she was now forced to wander the swamp until she died, away from the high peeks and the bitter cold, condemned to mud, heat and an insufferable amount of good-natured idiots, had nearly driven her to madness.

But the buck had helped.

She knew Totoma’s well and had been curious to see a kin that had their strength as well as the agility of what she eventually found out was an Acha. That was why she had approached him and ever since she had both regretted and been pleased by the decision.

He’d turned out to be an admirable hunter and the gift of a plump bunny or two worked even on her crankiest days.

He also came attached to a pack, a mighty mixed pack of family and dogs. Challenger had enjoyed the romp and the hunt, establishing his own place of dominance in the group.

It had been strange and new, a far cry from lonely mountain valleys where there was only the echo of the wind and an empty belly for company.

But Rimefang was a lone wolf at heart and eventually she had left only to find herself in some far flung corner of the swamp with Challenger sniffing around her belly and the knowledge that she was probably but most definitely pregnant.

Could this place get any worse?

Oh yes, it could, the Swamp said, rising to the occasion.

They came from downwind, a pack on the hunt, led by a huge wolf with glowing eyes. Rimefang and Challenger faced them down because there was no time to flee, turned on them with low, guttural growls from deep in their belly, fought viciously and hard, blood and fur, a frenzy of teeth as she sought to protect those unborn pups in her belly.

But a paw and then a hoof slammed her down, and a masculine voice, surprisingly pleasant, whispered in her ear, “May your children be just as strong and fierce as their mother, great hunters of the Swamp.”

And then they were gone and Rimefang rose, trembling with rage and despair.

Because her offspring would never know the mountain trails and deep ice caves.

But they would be strong regardless, blessed by this horrible place where wolves turned into kin, and they would run fearlessly through the swamp even if she could not lead them.