Moonlight filled the cliffside, rocks jutting out of the soft grass as the wolves slowly gathered, creeping out of the treeline and hauling themselves out of their sleeping-dens. The oldest among them- a silvered she-wolf with tattered ears and more scars than fur, padded to the edge of the cliff, where an enormous piece of granite had been exposed to the air, cleaned off by moons of rain, and glittered fiercely under the light of the full moon. Her eyes were dark, watchful, unwavering as she took her place and sat to face the rest of the Circle. Here, they would bring another into the fold. The honor of a name was important, and even those who practiced medicine and rock-carving down in the canyon far below the cliff had come to see such an occasion.

As it was, the cliff on which they did their rites of passage, and convened, ate, slept, was little more than a field marked with various boulders and a bright outcropping of pale granite. Trees clustered thirty or so meters away from the rocks edge, and made in the dips of the earth and hollows under bushes were their sleeping-dens. An enormous flat rock in the center served as their eating-circle, where kill of the day was brought to be shared and distributed. The Moon Mother glanced towards a large dip in the open meadow that led up to the hill- reinforced with foraged hawthorn branches and such. The nursery, where all the pups of Mist Circle were born and protected. The Mother felt her fur flatten a bit, relaxing at the thought of pups. They were what kept the Circle going- they were the future of the hills that they hunted and protected. What was there to worry about? This one would grow into a fine young wolf, as they all did.

As the last of Mist Circle- the wolves that lived and hunted on the hills, gathered to witness the rite, the silvered wolf stood and lifted her muzzle, motioning a young couple forward. Dalrymple- a dark brown she-wolf with bright yellow eyes, and Marald, a grey male wolf with dark brown eyes, both stepped forward. In Dalrymple's teeth, a scruff was clenched. She carried a silvery she-wolf, barely a moon old, to bask in the full moon. The pup was placed at the paws of the much larger silver she-wolf, who bowed her head to touch her nose to the head of the pup. She squirmed in indignance and squeaked up at the leader.

Some chuckles broke out in the crowd, but they quickly died as their leader took a deep breath. Nervousness tingled in her paws, though she couldn't exactly tell why. She had performed this rite so many times before. What made tonight different? It felt... strange. Anxiety pooled in her belly, but she willed it to still as she spoke to those who had come to witness such an important event.

"Tonight we call forward to our ancestors, who have walked into the mist, to come forward and give this pup a name. We ask the moon, to bestow upon her its blessing."

Small murmurs broke out as the two Stone Carvers- healers of the pack, paced forward with low howls to flank the Moon Mother, who rose her head and closed her eyes, letting the howling, the moon, and the darkness greet her, almost like a dream.

The mist- present in her mind even with her eyes shut, gently parted as the world slipped away from her. Taking a breath, she blinked in the darkness, letting the vision take over, searching for the one who would come to name the pup.

An enormous wolf- black and brown, darker than any she had seen before padded towards her as her paws found solid ground. She stood where she did every time one of these rites took place, and dipped her head respectfully. They were alone on the cliff where she had stood surrounded by her circle just moments before, the mist at their paws almost glowing, providing them with just enough light.

"I do not think I have seen you here before," she greeted him with a swish of her tail.

"I have not yet come to give a name. I am Marrok. I was wrongfully exiled, and due to such circumstances lost my life," the enormous wolf bowed gently, tipping his head to one side before straightening, fiery yellow eyes fixating on the Moon Mother's, "For this, I have been chosen to bless this pup, for she will face a darkness we have yet to see within the circle. Her name shall be Irvis, and she will carry it like a scar."

"A scar-" she began, eyes narrowing on the male, but he quickly snapped his teeth at her for silence. A moment of quiet settled.

"We have seen two paths for her, both end in blood. In war," his eyes were flat with resignation, tone weighted with solemnity, "Her Champion shall be Gamdre. May he guide her towards the moon."

Closing her eyes, the Moon Mother nodded, taking a deep breath. His grim words felt like ice down her spine. The fur along her back and scruff prickled, dread threatening to make her sick. In all of her time, such a warning had never come.

"Is there anything I can do for her? What darkness do you speak of?" Her eyes opened again, but this time Marrok did not stand before her. She stood alone on the cliff, and that thick mist was beginning to drift into the darkness once again. Frustrated, brows furrowing in irritation, she let herself slip away from their ancestors and back to the circle she led.

A few sacred moments passed, and the howling grew to an unnerving cacophony before abruptly stopping. The Moon Mother's eyes opened, and she quickly shook her pelt out before raising her muzzle to make the announcement.

"Our ancestors have spoke! Her name shall be Irvis-"

"The moon...", "Our ancestors!", "An eclipse...". Murmurs exploded across the camp, causing the Moon Mother and both Stone Carvers- Galbrimine and Regar twisted on the rock that they perched upon beside their leader and gave grim looks to one another despite their blind, milky eyes. The Moon Mother, despite her initial attempts to quiet the crowd, turned and stared slack-jawed at the moon. Indeed, a reddish eclipse was beginning, darkening the full moon inch by inch. Some murmurs grew louder, and she turned to face her Circle to calm them.

"I must share with our ancestors again tonight. Be not afraid!" The Moon Mother called out.

"She's cursed!"

"Irvis is a blackened name!"

Soft shouts of disbelief and panic were beginning, but it didn't drive any of them away. Glances were being cast between the pup and the Moon Mother, who quickly motioned the parents forward. Dalrymple grabbed the pup up by the scruff before heading straight for her sleeping-den. Marald followed close behind, his head swinging wide to fix those who were reacting harshly, his glare a threat to anyone who dared get too close. The Moon Mother sighed, watching them go before flicking her muzzle first to one side, then the next, dismissing the gathering of wolves.

"Back to duty! I want to hear no gossip on this. Galbrimine, Regar, follow," giving one last glance at the quickly-coming eclipse she turned on her heels and bounded over the edge of the cliff, landing on the outcropping of rock just below. It took skill, dexterity that she was surprised she still had at this age. From the outcropping, she turned and headed into the crack in the stone, laden with grasses and other soft items for her comfort.

This was the Moon Mothers den, the granite exposed enough to fully light the den on full moons, the shimmering glow refracting from the tiny flecks of quartz. Her mind wandered briefly to the eclipse just outside as Galbrimine and his elder, Regar, followed down a more convenient path for the blind wolves, winding down the cliff face by a paw-trail of stone that was worn away by the years. The shadow that ate the surface of the moon had a ruddy color to it. For a moment, Marrok's eyes flashed across her mind.

"This has never happened before... we weren't warned!" Regar's voice, grating and raspy with age, cut across the stone den as she picked her head up, ears angling towards the elder Stone Carver. It was their job to carve the likenesses of those that had been lost down in the Carving Canyon, where they regularly spoke with the ancestors and worked to heal any sick or injured wolves. For their ancestors to not have said anything...

"They did warn us, it was just too late," she shook her head. Galbrimine, a blondish wolf, glanced between his elder and the Mother, narrow face tipping to one side in question.

"How could that be?"

"There was a wolf- Marrok, I've never seen him before..."

"And he came from the Mist?" Regar asked, sitting and thoughtfully flicking his tongue over his muzzle as the light within the den was dampened by the coming eclipse.

"He did... perhaps you can call to him tonight- or anybody who might know who he is. What his purpose may be. He brings dark words for the Circle. I'd like to know why," the silver she-wolf huffed, tail flicking as she remembered the frustrating lack of information.

"It has been quite some time since we've seen one," Galbrimine commented, poking his pale face from the mouth of the den as the light waned, "And never on a naming rite... perhaps it does mean something."

"The Circle cannot know. I will not have a pup's life destroyed by superstition and heresy," her voice grew fierce, eyes narrowing on the middle aged wolf. Regar shook his head, reaching out and pressing his muzzle to her shoulder to calm her. The Mother sighed once more, then turned on her paws to face away from the coming darkness, eyes focusing on the blackened recesses of the cave.

"We must find out and keep the others from doing the same. Irvis will not be a scar on the Circle. She will not be branded."

Regar's raspy voice softly cut across the terrible stillness that followed, just as the light from the moon entirely dissipated, casting them in reddened shadow, a chill running down her spine and limbs.

"Then we will quell the... discomfort. Galbrimine, come. We've work to do tonight," Regar sighed, a short cough leaving his muzzle, yellowed and crooked teeth baring for a second before his breathing calmed. Galbrimine quickly bounded to his side, ears pricked, and murmured something about ginger in his ear.

The Mother waited for the two to exit the cave before turning on her paws and padding back to the mouth, listening to them make their way up and start addressing those who were still out and about, asking questions. Another deep sigh left her, eyes flickering up towards the moon again.

Marrok. The name cemented itself in her head. Regardless of what he had said, she would not let the pup go down any path that involved blood.

Deep dark, reddish black light finally filled the den and the forest below as wind buffeted her thin fur, the eclipse completing its coverage of the moon.