Tuska was a caring, loving, but aggressive, wolf. She had settled for the winter in Northern Alaska near a heard of caribou. In her den lay five pups of her own that she loved very much. The alpha male, Nuka, and she were about to go on a hunt. Larsk would watch the pups while the parents were out.
The crisp, clean snow crunched under the pair's feet as they trotted through the dusk-white tundra. Tuska and Nuka's eyes darted in all directions, scanning the land for any brisk movement, any sound wavering in the air. In the distance, Nuka spotted some caribou approaching from the horizon. "You go from the left and I will go from the right!" he shouted, and they galloped to their positions. She saw an old and feeble looking caribou, which was being guarded closely by two others. Apparently, the aged one was important to the clan.
The Caribou were getting closer and closer, and the pair was closing in on them. All of a sudden, Tuska shouted "Now!" and they both jumped in at the heard. There was a tangle of hooves, claws, teeth, and antlers as both animals struggled to live. Tuska was hit in the face, but Nuka was injured worse. He had been trampled by both of the strong caribou and was crippled badly. Blood was everywhere. The old caribou was dead, but the other two weren't. Tuska bolted at them fiercely and nipped at their heels until they ran away.
Tuska ran straight over to Nuka's side. His neck had been trampled and there was a big gouge in it that was bleeding strongly. As Tuska wept tears of ice, he whispered "I love you. Tell the pups the same." As his voice drowned off...