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Where did I get these scars?

Why do I still wear torn shirt?

What's with the serious attitude?

Questions like these deserve a simple answer. But there isn't one.

Have you ever had a memory so painful that your chest clenches tight and it drops you to your knees? Have you ever had a memory so precious and beautiful that to lose it would forever sour the taste of life?

Ever have those memories be one and the same?

My sister Julieanna, Jewels, was born approximately 5 minutes after I was. That made me the older twin as well as big brother. We're both wolves, gray wolves actually, from northern Idaho. Don't let the name fool you, I don't plan to be gray for many years yet. Most folks would call us Timber Wolves, from the trees our ancestors hunted through and the color of our pelts.

Some twins are opposites, one loves what the other hates just to be different. Some twins are inseparable and can almost share the taste of what one of them eats. There's a third type I like to thing, the twin that isn't so close that they're your shadow but is your best friend and counter part in all that you do. That was Jewels and I. There was never a punishment in youth that we didn't earn as a team.

It was late fall, the trees were starting to turn yellow and auburn and wildlife ruts throughout the national forest were starting to come about. Per the Furry Instincts provision, certain breeds can petition for normally illegal activity as part of their natural order. For us, our clan had been allowed one single hunt for one game animal once a year in the national forest.

We'd set up a small base camp, enough tents and provisions (Beer), to last all twelve of us for a week or so. The plan was more or less the same, our clan head Justin, would scout ahead and pick our game. The rest of us would trail back about a mile and follow his scent. This was a special hunt, Justin was elected and proven himself to lead our tight knit clan of families. He was our Alpha, and this hunt, rumor has it, would be finished with his proposal to another in the clan to be the female head and his wife.

My model 40 was an antique gun, same as my sisters. They were used by our parents and our parents parents for this same hunt every year. As we'd been taught, the bolts were carefully oiled and maintained and the stocks polished to a healthy sheen. The path was easy to follow through the trees and landscape, his scent strong in the air.

We came up on Justin three hours later, crouching against a rock and waiting for us.

"I found a nice big elk, rack the size of my living room couch. I think he's the one for us this year." He smiled up to Jewels and I, no, just Jewels. "I want you and your brother to circle in from opposing sides around this glen. If he spooks and comes for you, take the shot. You'll have ten minutes to get into your spots. After that, we're going to move in and I'll take the shot myself."

The quick sprint around the small clearing was not a problem, my steps mirrored on the other side by my sister. I could almost feel her gaze on me, as I'm sure she could mine, on her. We set up at 2 and 10, leaving the rest of the pack at 6. No one should be in the line of fire and we had good coverage of the clearing. There he was with a couple of females, grazing away blissfully unaware of us.

To his word, Justin was just at the lip of the vegetation almost exactly ten minutes from when Jewels and I had split off. I sighted in the Elk and held, waiting to see the outcome of Justin's shot. There was the loud crack of his rifle, the echo through the trees....and then a sharp yelp. Elks don't yelp.

Species can tell each other apart by sight. Members of a species can tell each other apart by scent. Family members, mere sounds are enough. That yelp was more familiar to me than my own voice. It was the the same that I grew up with.

The Elk was long forgotten, my antique and cared for rifle, thrown roughly away to bounce against some rocks as I ran.

I got to her first, and this is why I shall never forget. I was there to hold her paw and smile to her as the light faded from her eyes and she left this mortal toil for an eternity of peace. I distinctly remember gently folding her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, then slowly standing as the others approached straight through the middle of the clearing.

We're evolved, intelligence of a man, but with the genetic advantages of our heritage. There's also instinct. It's buried deep and barely noticeable...most of the time.

Justin made to my side and found Jewels laying as peacefully as though she slept. Again to his credit, definitely a good clan leader, he even managed to get his knife out to defend himself. Three hundred pounds of lupine anger slammed into him.

The knife crossed his front, as well as my own, before I could get a hold of his wrist and promptly break it. Then it was claws and punches only. Fear rolled off of him like steam, and rage boiled from every pore of my body.

The next thing I can remember clearly is being held back. Eight full grown wolves were straining to keep me in place. Justin was a wreck, blood covered him head to toe and all the protruding bones in-between. I too was covered in blood, apparently he was about half an inch from disemboweling me, and torn open my chest with a lucky and savage stroke of his claws.

Twelve members of a wolf clan entered that forest.

Nine drove out, not a word spoken amongst them.

One was air lifted to a hospital.

One was buried there in the center of that clearing, in the middle of the land she loved so much.

One walked out, wounded and covered in the dirt of his sisters grave.

Where did I get these scars?

An accident. That's all you need to know.