This is my old fanfiction, Conall's Pack. I am in the process of re-writing it and adding more details, which I will publish later as Styginmoor's Son.

Warning: Wolves are good here. I know, its ridiculous, but if you hate the idea and want to point out all the parts where they are pure evil (because they are! I know that!) then please don't even read this. This is basically a "what if" story, not one that branches off from the actual story. "What if the wolves were alright fellows?" Let's see...


This is Bella's Gift told from Conall's point of view. Meet the wolves of Styginmoor and see Conall's choice through his eyes when he is torn between two things no-one should ever face: his heart and everything his spirit is fighting him to do. What will Conall choose when his best friend rebels against the one women Conall has been loyal to his entire life?

Prologue: The Smallest Cub

Distant mountains continued to grasp the blazing sun as it rose. Myrfor paced in front of the den of his mate, Sundew. His huge shadow was cast over the dying grass that surrounded Styginmoor. Nothing, not even hope, seemed able to grow in this desolate place he called home.

Myrfor's ears drooped when he thought about his growing responsibilities. How will I manage? All of our plans...and children? Now? How will I raise them with the fire of wolves? I have to harden them, make them see how harsh we must be. That is the only way to power and safety. I will raise them loyally, with the urge for destruction that will help our pack survive.

The partnership between Myrfor and Ivenna was older than most of the wolves in Myrfor's pack. How young and determined he had been. Now he had everything he'd ever wanted: power (over a pack, not his enemies just yet) and supporters, all a wolf could want in his future. Then there were those horses! They were smarter than any prey, more magical than any wolf, and maybe even smarter than Myrfor and Ivenna themselves. What had once been respect now burned as hatred in Myrfor's heart. They had to leave. No, they had to DIE.


Stormcall, a young beta of Styginmoor's wolves, trotter toward his superior. With a curt nod that Myrfor took as a bow, he delivered the news Myrfor had been waiting for all morning. "They're here," Stormcall barked. "Myrfor, you're a father."

Myrfor's tail wagged slightly. "How many?"

"Two she-wolves and one son," Stormcall replied.

Sundew called them from inside the den she had called. "Myrfor! Some and see!" she said, her voice tired but happy.

Beside his mate, Myrfor's three cubs were curled helpless and motionless. One was a pale she-cub with a white streaked coat like her mother. The other female was dark gray with Myrfor's markings. Finally there was the he-wolf with a pelt so gray it was almost black. Myrfor sniffed at his only son. The tiny creature seemed healthy, but he was small, even for a newborn. "A runt," Myrfor murmured. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He'll just have to fight. We all have to.

"Have you named them yet?" he asked Sundew.

Sundew shook her head. "I had a few in mind, but I firgured you'd like to help."

Myrfor nodded. He licked the first she-wolf. "Elan, I was thinking," Sundew said after a few moments of thought. The littel wolf squirmed as if she knew her name despite having not even opened her ears and heard for the first time.

"And this one." Sundew nudged the darker she-cub gently. "I came up with Duska for her, and for the male...I guess that's up to you. Nothing comes to mind."

Myrfor thought for a moment. "Conall," he said. A name for a warrior, the fighter this pup would one day be.

Conall laid by his mother's side, wet and innocent as his sisters. The future traitor of Styginmoor, welcomed and warm.

Chapter One: Conall



Conall yawned, stretching out his front legs. The four-year-old wolf's eyes blazed with a faint light, tired and droopy.. Conall cocked his head as he thought about his dream earlier that night. Something about it had shaken him as badly as the thunder of a storm. Creatures...horses. The thought made him growl with uneasiness. Horses and their riders were the wolves sworn enemies; Conall had been taught that since before he opened his eyes.


Lystra, an orange and brown pelted she-wolf, trotted up to him. Conall flopped over lazily. He didn't feel like starting the busy day yet. "Go bother another wolf," he mumbled to her through the dirt that had found its way into his mouth.

"Conall, even the maid is up by now!" Lystra scolded, tapping him with her paw. "Scarlet needs help with gaurd duty."

He would have started a fight with Lystra on the spot if she had not mentioned the maid. Jillian. Conall knew there was something special about that human. Ivenna and her were the only humans he had ever known, but Jillian was different somehow. She was nice to him. Most of the animals Ivenna kept imprisoned as servants hated and feared her wolves.


He rose and stretched one last time. "Yeah, sure. I'll help her out."

Lystra's tail curled coyly. "I knew you and my sister--"

"Look, Lystra, just go and annoy one of the others," Conall huffed, his hackles standing up a bit. "I don't even know her that well."

"Yes. Right." Lystra spun around, her tail swishing happily as she loped off. Conall groaned. The she-wolf had the biggest mouth in the whole pack. It even got her in trouble with Myrfor sometimes. Hopefully she won't get anyone hyped about Conall and Scarlet...never happening.

He exited the shade he and most of the pack always settled down to sleep it. Ivenna usually never invited the wolves who weren't in her most inner of circles to sleep in the castle, excluding almost everyone but the betas, Myrfor, and Sundew, who sometimes stayed outside anyway if there was no planning to be done.

Conall felt the withered grass turn to cool stone beneath the black pads of his paws. as he entered the castle. Like most wolves, felt welcomed here. Too much time inside, however, would drive Conall a little insane. He needed the wind and the grass and the rest of the outside to satisfy the wildness in his heart.

"There you are!" a russet wolf yipped at him from one of the bends in the main hallway.

Conall smiled back weakly, plopping himself down beside Scarlet. "So...we're going to be here for a while?"

"Until Cresent and Alremin take our places." Scarlet's tail wagged a few times before she resumed her guarding stance: ears high, eyes withering, and a still tail raised high in the warning posture. Conall bounded quickly to the other side of the hall and stood just like her.He decided he liked Scarlet's playful mood better. She didn't try to bite the tails off wolves who annoyed her when she was off-duty.

After a few minutes, two tall and dark figures made their way toward the two wolves. Conall's father, Myrfor, was right beside Ivenna. Both of them looked quite pleased, and Conall knew they had been talking about the only plans the wolf and person ever did: plans for power for Ivenna and the pack.

Conall's heart pounded against his pale chest nervously. He clenched his jaw to keep from panting. Displeasing Ivenna was one thing, but the wrath of both leaders would be unimaginable.

Ivenna and her ally strode pas the guards without paying any attention.

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