07 The Howling Spreads Throughout the Universe

Little Two-Paws, once a child of the forest, now lived as a prisoner of the sea. Taken from his home and the pack that raised him, he served aboard the pirates' ship, adrift in a world far removed from the wild harmony he once knew. Yet while the ocean separated him from all he loved, his memory had not faded from the hearts of the wolves.

Back in the forest, the pack remembered.

With every full moon, they gathered beneath the ancient trees in a sacred clearing known as the Moonshadow Circle. It was here, under the silvery light of the sky, that they upheld a tradition older than most could recall—an ancient rite passed down since the time of Silverfang. Each ceremony was a solemn vow, a chorus of voices rising to the heavens in search of the one they had lost.

Though Little Two-Paws was far from them, the wolves called to him.

Month after month, the ritual continued. Bigger Two-Paws, grown older and stronger, led the gathering. He stood tall among the pack, his voice filled with longing and devotion. As he howled, the sound became more than mere memory—it was a lifeline. The forest itself seemed to respond. The wind carried the sound far beyond the trees, stirring leaves and lighting stars.

The bond between the brothers had not faded. It had only deepened.

In the vast canopy above, the Star Hunters watched. Lupus, the celestial guardian, stood among them, his eyes aglow with timeless wisdom. He listened. He felt the sorrow, the love, the unshaken belief in the ritual. And then something extraordinary began to happen.

The stars responded.

The energy of the heavens rippled through the skies, guiding the wolves' voices, amplifying them with a cosmic resonance that defied the bounds of the Earth. The sound of the Howling traveled—not just over the land, but across oceans, into clouds, through time and space itself.

Far out at sea, where the water stretched in all directions and the pirate ship rocked endlessly beneath the stars, Little Two-Paws stirred.

He paused at the rail, the salt wind on his face, the creak of wood beneath his feet. Amid the endless rhythm of the waves, something delicate and distant stirred the silence. A memory. A vibration. A sound he had not heard in so long it felt like a dream: the Howling.

Though faint, it reached him.

Not in volume, but in truth.

It touched the deepest part of him, awakening something that the pirates could never steal. He closed his eyes and saw the forest, the wolves, his brother. He remembered the way the wind moved through the trees, the warmth of the earth, the way Greymuzzle’s voice had always been steady.

In that moment, he remembered who he was.

The Howling had found him—not just his ears, but his heart. And though he remained aboard the ship, far from home, something had changed. A light now burned within him, a reminder that he was never truly alone. The wolves still called his name. His brother still waited. And the love that had raised him still endured, stronger than chains or distance.

In the forest, the wolves settled once more beneath the moonlight, their ritual complete. But they knew it was not in vain. Their voices had reached him. And so long as the stars remained, so too would the echo of their unity.

Though separated by sea and shadow, the brothers were bound.

And the Howling would continue—forever a beacon in the dark, a signal of love that even the universe could not ignore.