Artwork for podcast The Voice of Dog
“Counter-Culture” by Televassi
15th March 2020 • The Voice of Dog • Rob MacWolf and guests
00:00:00 00:26:17

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Today’s story is “Counter Culture” by Televassi, who is a furry writer living in the UK, and you can find more of their writing through Thurston Howl Publications, Furplanet, and Sofawolf. This story was originally published in the anthology “What the Fox”, available at  Thurston Howl Publications.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

Transcripts

Speaker:

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

Speaker:

I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and today’s story is

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“Counter Curlture” by Televassi,

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who is a furry writer living in the UK,

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and you can find more of their writing through Thurston Howl Publications,

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Furplanet, and Sofawolf.

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This story was originally published in the anthology

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“What the Fox”, available at Thurston Howl Publications.

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“Counter-Curlture”

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by Televassi Den-mother was a moon-fearing wolf.

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She was always bristling her tail about her litter’s future;

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paws perpetually stained with ink from the latest newspaper articles on the troublesome youth.

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She lifted her ears whenever the balding elders spoke,

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drinking in their words,

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tongue twisted against her teeth as they slavered endlessly about their issues. ‘They

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spend their money on avocado on toast,

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and wear their jeans two inches lower than their parents -

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rapping rather than howling at the moon!

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They even have no interest in building dens together!”

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And Den-mother would nod along with those wolves and mutter to herself,

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“If their pack mentality isn’t curtailed,

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I dread to think about the future!”

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Because the first thing you should know about wolves,

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is that pack mentality determines

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everything. If enough of the pack does it,

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everyone else follows suit.

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They say. So, instead of spending my Sundays eating sweets and sneaking up on horses with my friends, I was dragged indoors by the scruff of my neck to be told

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how to be a ‘proper’ wolf.

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The lessons were on everything a 21st century wolf like me

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didn’t need to know;

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like the how’s, when’s, where’s, and who’s for holding your tail.

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Or ‘traditional language’ -

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that’s biting, howling, barking, sniffing.

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Apparently it’s a dying art because too many of us speak only English these days.

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I never experienced a free Sunday as a result;

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I only knew about them by staring out the window listening to the laughter as the rest of the world skipped on by,

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unfettered by their heritage.

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Today was no different.

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The old one eye stood at the front of the room,

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tapping his chipped claws against the desk,

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lecturing a young wolf with faded purple streaks in her otherwise brown mane

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about how she ought to have memorized the phases of the moon.

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It’s obvious Evie’s not listening;

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it’s easy to follow her green eyes as they darted around, counting how many patches of wrinkled skin she can spot

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as they peered out from underneath that old fool’s thinning fur.

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Satisfied, the elder snapped his jaws and strode back to the whiteboard,

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arching his neck as if about to howl.

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“Can’t you feel it flowing through your veins -

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don’t you feel wild,

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powerful?” He growled,

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clawing his fur as he strutted to the back of the classroom.

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“As beasts we were feared and admired!

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We were the first to be uplifted because we were those things to humans,

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and even later to the rest of modified kind!

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Yet you pups would rather live without it,

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abandoning your proud traditions,

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copying everyone else like an uncultured mongrel!”

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I rolled my eyes.

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Not this again; not the

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‘how can you be a wolf if you’ve got dyed fur’ thing.

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I cast my eye back out the window,

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watching my friends - Blue and Shadow -

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make faces at the windows as they cycled by.

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They laughed and shouted,

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tongues waving in the air like pink ribbons as they sped past.

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They had it so easy, being dogs.

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The old one leapt forward, slapping his paw on my desk -

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pressing a single, yellowed fang against my neck.

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I wrinkled my muzzle;

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his breath stank of rotten meat as he tried that primal method of discipline.

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If it hadn’t fizzled out from our genes generations ago,

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he might have been able to make me take heed.

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“You should remember,

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you are no dog. A dog obeys.

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A dog follows. They are the ones who slunk towards the human’s campfires because their pelts were thin.

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They are the ones who raided prehistoric man’s rubbish

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because they couldn’t take down prey themselves.”

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He leaned closer,

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pressing his withered muzzle against my neck.

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“If you ever want to be someone,

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you should never fraternize with dogs,” he whispered.

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In truth, it was my friends that formed the main reason why den-mother sent me here.

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She clawed her fur incessantly about it -

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those loud, noisy huskies.

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Always barking away - Bark! Bark! Bark! -

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“You do it all the time at home, you don’t even notice it, you can’t control it!” She cried.

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“And stop curling your tail!”

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It never mattered what I argued,

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to her I clearly didn’t know how to behave myself when out with other dens,

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hide my disinterest in hunting, or my desire to give up meat.

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They were things that, she believed,

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came from some immature desire to copy what non-wolves did,

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because it was ‘edgy’ and ‘cool’.

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“You’re doing these classes for your own good!” Den-mother snapped. “You’ll thank me when you’re older!”

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And Den-father, who at least was still around then,

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nodded silently at that,

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his muzzle peering up from the newspaper,

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wolfish features so stock and same that if I didn’t remember his scent, he could have been anyone.

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They missed the point.

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It was about being different.

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Why be like everyone else, when you can be yourself?

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I ground my teeth,

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waiting for the smelly old wolf to finish rambling on,

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picking at my fur in anger and resentment.

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He pulled away, going back to strutting down the aisles, holding his thinning tail high like a leafless branch in autumn while I brushed his slobber from my fur with a lavender-scented tissue.

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“We wolves are the leaders of the uplifted community.

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Be true to the pack,

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and you will do your heritage proud,” he continued,

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glaring at me. I made sure our exchange was mutual. I wouldn’t let him believe I’d submitted.

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I took it as salvation that the bell finally rang.

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“Remember, next Sunday I want a five page report on the importance and applications of scent-marking!” he howled,

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swept aside by the tide of fur rushing through the door with clacking claws.

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Skidding down the corridors on all fours, I leapt out the door and stood tall,

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stretching out my arms as I held my paws up to the sun.

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Sweet freedom, at last.

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Ignoring the rest of the pack as they filtered back to their parent’s cars,

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I raced on ahead,

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losing sight of them as I weaved past a herd of horses

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kicking a ball against the red-brick walls,

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wrinkling my nose at their strong, musty sweat dripping from their manes.

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Den-mother hadn’t arrived yet;

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she’d texted that she was still stuck in traffic on the freeway,

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so that gave me precious time to meet my friends.

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Despite what the old wolf said,

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I envied them. Dogs had life easy.

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They didn’t have a

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mythical legacy to uphold, or anxious parents that forced them to attend stupid classes.

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I slunk into the bushes,

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creeping round the brittle branches,

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earthy pelt blending in despite the blond highlights Blue had added last time we hung out.

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Den-Mother flipped when she saw them,

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but there wasn’t much she could do but wait for them to fade.

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I could hear them laughing and joking quietly ahead,

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my ears twitching as excitement built.

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I caught the sweet scent of their deodorant

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and the smell of cigarettes.

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Smoking behind the bike sheds - how predictable.

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Imitating Mr. Johnson’s plodding hooves,

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I burst out of the bushes, holding my arms above my head,

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thrashing them about as my ‘antlers’ caught in the branches.

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His genetics meant he never shed them though -

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making them horns.

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It always was a great game to see how loudly you can say that without landing yourself straight into detention.

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“Fuck, it’s only Straight-Tail!” Blue swore,

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tongue lolling out of her mouth as she tried to revive his discarded cigarette.

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“You owe me a new one,”

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she growled, doing his best to hold back the grin twitching at her lips.

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“Don’t they ever smell the smoke on you?”

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I asked, wrinkling my nose.

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I could smell the acrid tang clinging to their fluffy coats,

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the evidence was obvious enough.

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“At least I’m careful to roll the scent away before I go,”

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I shrugged, grabbing one from her and lighting up. “Pff,

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they teach you that in those stupid wolf-classes?” She huffed,

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blowing a ring towards me.

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I poked my muzzle through it like a dog catching a loop,

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before champing down on it with a flash of my teeth.

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“It don’t matter,” Blue continued.

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“Not even a wolf has their sense of smell half as strong as a feral -

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and even if they smell something - teacher’s got to prove it,” she barked,

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laughing. “If they don’t catch it lit in your hand,

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they can’t do nothing,” she grinned,

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wagging her curly tail.

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“See Straight-Tail, despite what your parents say it’s great to have human rules.

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They might not run on fours or smell a thing, but they’ve got fair minds.”

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Blue puffed, watching the smoke trail of into the air.

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“That scent could’ve gotten from anywhere,” she continued,

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shaking her thick mane in the sun.

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“Could’ve just been near someone on the bus,

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on the train-” “You’re yappering now Blue,

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Straight-Tail’s a sharp one,” Shadow sighed,

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punching the husky on the arm.

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“He’s not dumb enough to be hoodwinked back to the straight and narrow by some fossil trying to reverse your wayward pack mentality.”

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Blue grinned, fiddling with her blue highlights and lip piercing,

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pulling them in mock horror.

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I absolutely loved how she looked, and I couldn’t wait to turn sixteen so I could get a piercing of my own.

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“-Best point humans ever thought up though,

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they’ve got this big thing about individualtism.”

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“In-di-vid-ual-ism, Blue,”

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Shadow corrected.

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“You’ve gotta spend more time practicing your English if you want end up living with them.”

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“Then don’t try an’ shut me up when I talk!”

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Blue snapped, the icy highlights on her hackles standing up as if electrified.

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“It’s easy for you, you already live with ‘em.”

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“Fair point,” Shadow sat back,

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exposing his neck to Blue’s teeth.

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“Humans have got their flaws, don’t get me wrong,”

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he continued, turning back to me.

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“But you know, you shouldn’t ignore them because they’ve got no fur.

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There’s no pack mentality with ‘em,

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it’s just about being yourself,” Shadow finished,

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tapping my snout gently. “-

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you mean them!” Blue barked excitedly,

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correcting Shadow’s mistake.

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The black husky frowned, sighing into his paws.

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“Just one mistake and-”

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he muttered. “Aw come on, don’t strop!

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Straight-tail’s not got the time for us to be fighting,” Blue replied, smacking Shadow on the thigh.

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“You do have a point,” he relented,

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fiddling with the blonde and green highlights in his mane so they trailed down across his shoulder and muzzle like a human’s hair. “We’ve been thinking about

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you and us kid,

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and we think we’ve come up with something to show you’re one of us -

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a real 21st century dog.”

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“Yeah,” Blue giggled, squeezing my arm.

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“We think it’s pretty great that you hang out with us -

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too many wolves get all pointy-nosed about us.”

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“Ugh, don’t get me started on our outdated obsession with being ‘wild, noble, and majestic’ beasts,”

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I replied, rolling my eyes.

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They joined in with me.

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“Yeah, it’s awful they coop you up like a game hen in there all the time - so we’ve got the perfect prank

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to get revenge on your teacher.”

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“After today, I’m more than eager,”

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I muttered, refusing to elaborate despite their looks.

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“Oh yeah? Anyway, you’ll like this,”

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Shadow laughed, rummaging around in his satchel.

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“It’ll serve him right,

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spewing all that crap about dogs.

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Don’t sweat it if you need more,” he said,

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throwing me a silver jar covered in a couple of scratch-marks

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and half-peeled stickers.

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“Well, we had to take the branding off otherwise it’d probably get confiscated if they caught you with it,”

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Shadow shrugged, preening his chest fur.

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“I didn’t realize hair gel was so dangerous,” I moaned,

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rolling my eyes. This was stupid, and wouldn’t do anything.

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“Not that excited huh Straight-Tail?”

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Blue teased me, catching the unimpressed look on my muzzle as she bit her lip piercing between her teeth.

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Shadow shot her mate a scolding look.

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“It’s about what you can do with it,”

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the husky grinned.

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“Extra strength, specially formulated for fur.

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It’ll keep the shine in your pelt, it won’t glue your fur together and best yet, it’s got no smell,

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so they won’t know you’re even wearing it.

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But here’s the thing,

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if you want rid of it,

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you’ve got to wash it off with special formula -

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otherwise it’ll last for weeks!”

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“What are you thinking?”

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I asked them, watching as they curled their tails up tightly behind them,

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bristling in excitement.

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“Well, for one, you’re one of us kid.

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You don’t give in to their pack mentality crap,

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so, we thought it’d be pretty cool to gel you up with a curl too,”

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Blue smiled, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she leapt over to hug me,

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working the cigarette smoke and husky scent into my fur.

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“But Shadow’s got a great idea,” she continued,

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tossing me the small blue tub containing the remedy.

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“But better yet,” Shadow sighed, pulling her off me,

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“if you use those wolf skills of yours to sneak into your teacher's house-”

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“And work this into his tail...” Blue whispered.

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Both the huskies nodded, sharing my smirk.

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“Oh Straight-Tail, this is gonna be more fun than a house on fire.” ***

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Den-mother was full of questions as she flipped the indicators on and swerved onto the freeway.

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“How was your day?

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Did you eat a big lunch? What did you learn?”

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I had few answers,

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trying instead to concentrate on stopping my ears

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from twitching every time we drove over the gaps between the road’s concrete slabs. Thunk thunk, thunk thunk, thunk thunk.

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Even with the radio on, it was loud and irritating.

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“How come we’re not running home by the river?”

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That was the quieter alternative after all,

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and Den-Father always went that way when he came to pick me up.

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Cars were loud,

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noisy, and left the stink of asphalt in your fur that took days to get rid

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of. “I’ve got to pick up your younger litter-mates from nursery and then get dinner ready,” she sighed,

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combing her claws through her tangled mane.

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After Den-father had just become father,

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she’d put less and less effort into keeping up her appearance.

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I’d overheard their

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‘conversations’ the night she came out from hospital

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after their small litter,

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and despite everything, he became a voice at the end of the telephone

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and a scent I knew once a month.

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“It would be nice to hear you answer me about your day,” she snapped.

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She cursed abruptly,

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sounding her horn at a deer who swerved into the middle lane without indicating.

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“Too many idiots let loose on the road these days.”

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Should have taken the river run.

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“My day was long.

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Just more stuff about how to hold your tail, and why you should categorize by scent rather than name.

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name.” “Geez, I swear the old coot says one thing useful

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and then immediately comes back with some rubbish.”

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My tail twitched.

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“Mom, it’s all rubbish.

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Shadow says that-”

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“For the last time, it’s not about them,

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it’s about you,” she growled -

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but not unkindly.

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“You’ve got to know how to behave if you want to have any chance of getting on in life.”

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Den-mother clicked the indicators on against

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as she turned off under the sign for Stargazer Avenue.

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The white picket fences didn’t divide much here,

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everything was the same on either side.

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“You’ve got to learn how to make your way among wolf society if you want a bright future.

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If you turn up to an interview without holding your tail correctly, no one will take you seriously.”

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“But-” “I don’t expect you to understand now,” she said,

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turning up into the driveway and stopping the engine.

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I knew it was futile to attempt to argue further.

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I spent that evening picking at my chickpeas and lentils while the rest of the pack tucked into rare slabs of meat

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with abandon - a diet only tolerated because I still kept that oily luster to my fur

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thanks to grooming supplies Shadow smuggled to me.

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I kept thinking about the pot of hair gel in my backpack.

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When I finally got dismissed I rushed up to the shower, unable to keep a firm hold of my tail

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as it flicked about with delight.

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I popped the cap open with my claw and reached behind me,

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rubbing it into my fur,

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pulling it upwards.

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I waited ten minutes,

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then let go. In the mirror I watched a grin stretch across my face,

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wider than any before.

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It didn’t just smile for joy,

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but also for revenge. ***

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Blue snickered like a hyena.

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Shadow tried in vain to hide his smirk.

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“This is gonna be so funny,”

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they both whispered,

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digging their paws into their sides as they tried to contain themselves.

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“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he wakes up.”

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Wolford, for all his talk about being so much like a wolf,

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slept like a rock.

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You could hear his snoring from outside his house, night and day, and he woke for little.

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I remembered this from his very first lesson;

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a true wolf sleeps lightly and often.

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That slip was the thing that I seized upon,

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and I held to that flaw like a torch.

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“Serves him right for all this ‘true wolf’ crap I’ve had to put up with,”

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I muttered, sneaking closer.

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“Yeah, this’ll teach that stuffy old fart for forcing you to spend your Sunday’s cooped up in a classroom

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rather than hanging out with us,”

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Shadow replied. “Geez!”

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Blue gagged. “I can smell him out from here already,”

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she wrinkled her muzzle,

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pawing at her snout as she rolled her tongue across her nose,

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trying to wipe away the smell. “Does he ever wash?”

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“Not a chance -

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a true wolf doesn’t demean his nature with perfumes,”

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I groaned. “Is that the crap they have you chant out?”

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Shadow swore. “You think that’s bad, try reciting the list of foods that a wolf shouldn’t eat.”

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I paused. “Chocolate’s one of them.”

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“What? When they made our species they took out that gene-flaw - and even then,

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they make all chocolate without it anyway!”

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“Yeah, what gives?” Blue added,

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“If it wasn’t the case, then I’d have conked it long ago!”

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The husky fidgeted,

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paws rummaging around in her wrapper filled pockets as if to prove a point.

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“Yeah, but you can still die from it if you keep eating so much,” Shadow teased,

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even though Blue was as skinny as they come.

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“Hey, my parents give it to me because they love me!”

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“And keeping up that puppy fat just makes you look so adorable!” Shadow retorted,

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grabbing the husky’s cheeks and making a mock cooing noise.

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Blue growled and snapped back at him, cursing as she swiped at Shadow’s face -

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but he jumped away, snickering and laughing at his friend.

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“Shh! You’ll wake him up if you keep at it,”

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I snapped, losing my patience.

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They never seemed able to stop goofing around.

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“Come on,” Shadow hollered,

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“you said yourself he sleeps through anything!”

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“Shut up, Straight-Tail’s right!”

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Blue intervened. “If we get this done,

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then we can all hang out together again, like the good times.”

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Shadow grumbled and bit his lip,

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fiddling with the blonde and green highlights against the black streaks of fur on his forearms.

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“So how’re you going to get in there?”

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Blue asked, cocking her head.

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“Door’s locked, and he’s not one to keep a feral and have a dog-flap, is he?”

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“I’m surprised he even has

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a house, considering how much he behaves like one,” Shadow retorted, still sulking.

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Leaving them to bicker,

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I jogged around the building looking for a way in.

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The heat of the night was oppressive,

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forcing me to loll my tongue outside my muzzle and pant;

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something ill becoming of a wolf.

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It kept me cool though.

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The temperature had gotten to the old wolf too though.

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Off to the side of the white-picket porch he’d left a window open;

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curtains curling outwards as they caught the slight breeze.

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Just to the side of the porch, a rusty, antique drainpipe led upwards,

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close enough that if I climbed up it,

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I could get on top of the porch

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and then I’d just have to reach up and pull myself in through the window.

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“No way you can get up that way,”

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Blue shrugged. “You’ve got paws kiddo,

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no way you can grab and haul yourself up that thing.”

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The husky dug into her pockets,

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whipping out a screwdriver and a set of pliers, snapping them together.

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“We’re not breaking in!” I snapped.

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“But that’s exactly what we’re doing?”

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Blue sighed and scratched her head,

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kicking the grass with her paw as I took hold of the drainpipe.

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The screws wobbled, but it held firm;

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the rust crunching underneath my paws.

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I smirked at Blue as I pulled my way up.

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I tried to hide the tremor in my legs as I stepped out onto the porch,

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looking down at the two huskies who stood together,

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clutching each other’s arms,

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tails curled up behind them.

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As soon as they caught me looking,

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they pushed each other back,

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snapping half-heartedly at each other like it was some sort of mistake.

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Taking a deep breath,

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I pushed the window up

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and slipped inside.

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It was dark inside.

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It stank; the air inside layered like heavy dust,

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none of the scents flushed out from here in weeks.

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I took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the moonlight,

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hoping that the old wolf wouldn’t wake upon smelling my scent.

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He kept on snoring like some old human,

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tongue caught outside his jaws,

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sticking out all puffy and dry.

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He lay on his side,

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the bed sheets kicked off and rolled up over his ankles;

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sleeping pills scattered like grains of sand across his bedside table.

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Creeping forward,

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I took out the gel,

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lathering my paws up with it,

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grinning, remembering the lessons where Wolford had insisted we practice moving silently; ‘like

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a true wolf stalks its prey’.

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I bit my lip, trying to keep my hands from trembling as my excitement built,

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working the thick gel into his ragged tail,

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curling it backwards.

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The urge to shout, to declare some victory crept up my throat,

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but I stayed silent,

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listening to the growing patter of raindrops outside.

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When I slid back down the drainpipe, Blue and Shadow were sprinting back and forth,

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trying to vent their excitement.

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I joined them, pumping my legs,

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paws clawing and taking out chunks of turf

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as I outstripped them,

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laughing as the growing rain washed away our scents -

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not that anyone these days had the nose to notice. ***

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The next day passed in agitation;

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seconds stubbornly bending away like the hairs of a cat on edge.

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We spent the day sprinting through fields and

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tangled undergrowth - even ducking out of my last class to spend the hour with Blue and Shadow

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behind the bike sheds stuffing our muzzles full of chocolate.

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When Den-Mother picked me up,

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muddy-pelted and reeking of sweat,

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all wildness in my eyes, she made a fervent prayer through gritted fangs that I’d learn some manners in class tomorrow,

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else I’d be the one scrubbing the floors clean.

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The look on her face was priceless when we bumped into James,

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a deer who lived next door to Wolford.

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“Gotta say, my mom’s relieved.

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For the first time ever he was silent last night - and the one before!

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About time he stopped waking everyone up with all his damn howling,

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even if he is that ill!”

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he said as he went about scraping the velveteen off his antlers.

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Den-Mother flinched when he said that.

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She didn’t ask me about the lessons that day. ***

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The next day all the wolves found ourselves corralled into the classroom by Emerson the head teacher;

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a white-pelted moose

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with lofty antlers.

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The scent of excitement lingered in the air,

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subtle but electric,

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enough to get some hackles standing on edge -

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the instinct to follow tingling in my tail.

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“You may not be aware that Mr. Wolford has been poorly for the last few days,

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however he has insisted on coming in today for your lesson today.

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I hope you’ll show him due respect for his commitment

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to your education,”

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He finished, muzzle falling back into his trademark squat,

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grumpy shape as he walked out the door.

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Wolford limped through the held door,

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holding himself without any of his usual demeanor.

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He was hunched over, sullen-eyed, defensive;

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keeping his back to the door at all times -

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crossing over to his desk by sidestepping like a crab.

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Instead of standing, he sat,

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resting his gaunt arms upon the desk,

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propping up his skeletal frame with his thinning paws.

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It was plain to see;

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he reeked of worry,

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his eyelids were haggard

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and seemed to scrape across his eyes whenever he blinked.

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Instead of launching into his usual tirade, he just sat there,

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staring back out at the class

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as the class stared back at him.

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“It’s hard being an old wolf,”

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he murmured, forcing the room’s ears to point and lean forward.

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“We don’t tend to age well.

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In the old days, I would have met my end in the hunt as soon as the cold started to creep into my bones.”

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He paused, running his tongue across his gums,

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nostrils flaring.

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“But it’s against our spirit to lie down and give up,”

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he said. “Now, please get out your essays I set you last week,”

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he commanded, standing up and in doing so,

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revealing his curled tail.

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In unison, the entire front row of the claw cocked their heads.

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“Sir, that’s not how you hold your tail!”

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Stevie, a young arctic wolf barked.

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Wolford stood still.

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He gritted his teeth,

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tendons visibly straining on his bald patches,

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as he tried - and failed -

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to straighten his tail.

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“No,” he growled, glaring at the pup,

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“but as you age your body changes-”

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“But that’s a dog’s tail!” The white wolf bit his tongue, confused.

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“Will my tail curl when I get older?”

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Evie, Stevie’s sister cried out, clutching her tail.

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“It could happen to anyone!” Fred barked,

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laughing as the younger wolves fretted at themselves with their paws.

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“Emerson said you were sick!

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What if I get sick?”

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Tom leapt back, his chair clattering on the floor - and with it,

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the pin dropped. A rumination of excitement rippled through the wolves.

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The scent of it rose throughout the room,

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stifling all others.

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I felt my heart lurch.

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My toes curled, claws scraping against the floor.

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I bit my tongue, but my muzzle twitched.

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Pack mentality kicked in.

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That old, venerable wolf who had set the standard of what made a wolf,

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was here with his tail bent back like a common dog.

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And everyone followed.

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All behind the desks,

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poking out from behind their chairs, the pack’s tails rose,

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bristling - pulled back, as if drawn taut by invisible strings.

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The class no longer looked like wolves,

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but an entire chaos of huskies.

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They laughed and cried and shouted as he tried to instill order, but they were infected now,

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and no matter how loudly he growled or bared his teeth,

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they scrapped about with each other like sled-dogs fighting to get free of the traces.

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Then they broke out,

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sprinting along the corridors with their ridiculous tails bobbing about behind them;

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shrieking out for their parents as they cried about the contagion.

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It was a beautiful ruckus.

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Blue and Shadow ran in to join me,

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howling like wolves in their laughter,

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holding their hands over their faces as we jumped up and down, struggling to vent the excitement that flowed through us,

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watching as the younger wolves rushed towards their parent’s

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who still hadn’t yet left the school.

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Den-Mother spotted me, barking loudly,

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ears pricked upright in alarm.

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“What happened?” she questioned, shaking me while the other parents bickered.

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“He infected our children!”

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“He taught them how to act like a dog!”

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“Absolutely despicable! I’m not letting my litter near him again!”

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Den-Mother sighed,

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biting her lip, folding her ears.

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She grabbed hold of me,

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patting me down, whispering to me.

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She reached back, cautiously patting my tail - which in spite of it all, remained straight.

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“I should have trusted you when you said you knew how to behave,” she apologized, shoulders sagging.

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“It’s just been hard without your father.”

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I said nothing, catching Shadow stamp down on Blue’s foot

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before she opened her mouth and ruined it.

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“Does this mean you won’t send me to those classes anymore?”

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I asked. “I know how to behave,”

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I replied, edging her on.

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She pulled back, frowning.

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“As long as you continue to behave,”

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she smiled, taking my paw.

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I took that moment to hold my tail high in triumph -

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just like a proper wolf.

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As we drove home, my phone buzzed as Shadow texted me. ‘When

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do you think you’re going to wash the gel out of your tail?’

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I smiled, but I didn’t reply.

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This story was Counter-Culture by Televassi,

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read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

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Thank you for listening to the Voice of Dog

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