Kira bounded through the trees, her ears pricked up and her senses on full alert. She ran through the forest of West Transylvania, her white paws pounding the ground. She was running from a pack of humans who were following her with long pipe-like things, which made loud bangs. Kira was barely just three years old, but she had just lost her mate, her sister, and her fellow pack wolves in a horrible fight of which she was the only survivor. She wanted desperately to throw her head back and keen with grief for her lost comrades, but she knew that if she did that, it would be at her own folly.