It was nighttime, and the landscape was paled by the ivory rays of the moon. The trees were rocked by the incessant wind, the leaves bustling about and carrying on as the wind, a mischievous and merciless element, whistled and howled with glee at the leaves’ distaste. The fields teemed with nocturnal rodents, some of which lost their lives to the hunger of silent night owls riding the sky.

The timber wolf rested her weary bones on a grassy hill, inhaling the fresh and settling aroma of the flowers and clover that were scattered about. Syndrie watched the pups scuffle and roughhouse each other, framed by the light of the moon. They were young and full of mischief and energy, practically synonymous with the wind. Her daughter, Lorna, had borne them in the wee hours of the morning about a month ago. The pups’ bodies were full, their fur sleek and healthy. Syndrie was sure they would prosper and develop into brave and hardy alphas in the future.

“Ol’ Mama Synnie,” a quiet voice whispered, and the old timber wolf moved her head to gaze upon a scrawny omega that went by the name of Jyscal. The lowest ranked wolf was growing to the end of his adolescence but his state of mind was a slow roller and was still trekking through pup hood. He was timid, subdued, and submissive, letting the higher ranked beat him about with their muzzles and paws, cowering when a growl was sent in his direction. He was always the last to eat, of course, and so was not as strong or full-bodied as the rest.

“Yes, Jyscal?” Syndrie replied in a quiet, melodic voice. The omega’s trembling gradually ceased at the sound of her angelic voice and his muscles seemed to slacken. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “It relaxes me. I will be too scared to sleep tonight if you do not talk to me.” Indeed, Jyscal had been very nervous and tense lately, for they had traveled to new grounds as their old and familiar homeland was growing steadily dangerous as man began to overtake the land. The new place and its unfamiliar smells and landmarks frightened the poor thing out of its wits.

“What is it that you would like to hear, Jyscal?” Syndrie asked.

“C-convince me that this p-place, this place isn’t so bad… that whenever w-we move somewhere, it won’t be so bad…”

Syndrie smiled and rested her head upon her forepaws, sighing. “Well, Jyscal… there isn’t much to fear about this place. It is new territory, but there are many things that do not change.”

“Like what, Ol’ Mama Synnie?” the omega asked curiously. Indeed, the tension seemed to have left his voice.

“Well, the wind is here. It followed us and came with us and still sings through the trees. We still have neighbors of the same species. Though they are different beings they are still of the same race and thus are one with each other in their strengths and weaknesses. The grass and flowers and rocks still decorate our new environment. They may be situated in different places and patterns, or their numbers may be different, but they are still here. And our good friend, the moon, has followed us also.”

Jyscal threw his head back to survey the sky, as if he expected the moon to be missing. But there it was, full and round, shedding its flimsy light. Jyscal was immediately comforted.

“You don’t think the moon would ever stop pursuing us, do you, Jyscal? It will never let us leave it behind. The only time the moon will ever take his leave is when the sun rises or when the night is extremely cloudy, or when his whole being is shadowed, and even so as soon as the sun dips away or the clouds part or the shadows leave, he will still be there. He never really leaves.”

“How do you know he won’t ever tire of following us?” Jyscal asked a bit nervously.

“I know the moon, Jyscal, and the moon knows me. I trust in his light and presence. I revere him and he knows that and is pleased.”

The scrawny male looked up at the moon with uncertainty.

“Test him, Jyscal,” Syndrie said wisely as she shakily rose to her feet. “Run a long length of clear ground and keep your eyes on him. You will see that he does, indeed, follow you, never letting you stray from his presence.”

“But if he follows me, Synnie, he’ll be leaving you,” Jyscal whispered.

“That is not so,” Syndrie laughed. “The moon is powerful and wise. He will follow you and at the same time, stay with me. He is a very strange one indeed.”

And so Jyscal, his trembling starting up again, took off, dashing nimbly through the grass. Cautiously, he turned his head toward the sky. The moon seemed to be chasing him and he was amazed. He turned heel and came racing back, relieved and excited. Syndrie, now sitting back on her haunches, was awaiting him with a knowing smile.

“You were right, Ol’ Mama Synnie!” Jyscal whooped. “You always are. I can always come to you for help.”

“Do not lay yourself on me,” Syndrie said solemnly. “You cannot become dependant on me. Soon I will die and will not be able to teach and console you. You must learn to gather yourself, Jyscal.”

This scared Jyscal and tension overtook his body once again. “You cannot die,” he muttered shakily. “You cannot die and leave me.”

“My time is coming very soon, Jyscal,” Syndrie said with a piteous smile. “Death is part of nature. There is a time to live and a time to die. I have lived and so my time to die is steadily coming closer. Death is inevitable, Jyscal. Whether you turn away from it or embrace it, it will come.”

The omega was horribly frightened by this. Syndrie’s words haunted him and so he braved another sleepless night. Jyscal had always assured himself that Ol’ Mama Synnie would always be there for him. If she ever did leave, she would leave with him.