Thirty-Four had always loved the night.

The velvety sky, studded with stars, stretching as far as the eye could see. The darkness and the gloom, draining the world of colour. Leaving everything just as grey as the shade of his fur.

But, most of all, he loved the moon.

It was just beginning to appear in the darkened evening sky, hovering in place, awaiting the moment when the sun would vanish and its silvery glow could shine over the world. Entranced, Thirty-Four stared up at it. A quarter moon, Lexi called it. A perfect slice. Only half of the moon's full glory.

But, of course, the moment couldn't last long.

As dusk spread its dark tendrils above the hill he sat on, a voice called his name. Well, not his name - but the number that he had answered to for the near-eighteen moons of his life.

"Thirty-Four? You around here?"

It took a moment for the tone to register in his mind, but once it did, his snout curved upwards just a little. Thank Luna. Here was another wolf who didn't judge him - at least in situations like this.

"Over here, Cal!" he called back, rising to turn towards the trees. "On the hill!"

There were a few crashes, and several loud rustles, before Calder finally appeared. Twigs and leaves were strewn throughout his deep blue fur, making him appear as if he'd been dragged through a hedge rather than taken a stroll through the forest. Thirty-Four chuckled lightly. That was his brother - always managing to make simple things so difficult.

Eyes lighting up, Calder hurried over to him, flopping down heavily at his side. "So Lexi had to work this afternoon," he guessed, his blue ears twitching.

"Yeah." With a sigh, Thirty-Four returned to a sitting postion, adjusting to face his brother. "I know it's selfish, but I wish she didn't have to."

Reaching up a paw, Calder ruffled the fur behind Thirty-Four's ears. It made him duck his head, grinning. "I know, little bro. I'm sure you'll get your Pelt soon." His paw moved to trace the empty space of his brother's grey paw.

"I hope so." Flicking his tail, Thirty-Four moved his gaze back to the moon. "How's life down at the palace?" Though he didn't turn to look at Calder, he could practically hear his grimace.

"As wonderful as it gets. Mother's telling me I need to start wearing pearls now." He snorted. "Because apparantly, I'm not prince-like enough. Which is true, but I'm pretty sure pearls isn't the answer."

Turning back, Thirty-Four's blue eyes flashed with contempt. "Hey. You do look like a prince. Don't let her tell you otherwise." He tapped his brother's tail affectionately. "I'd much rather have you in charge than that idiot uncle of ours."

Calder gave him a stern glare, along with a thwack with his tail. "Don't talk about Uncle Dimi like that," he muttered lowly. "You need to learn to control that tongue of yours. It gets you in enough trouble." Shaking his head, he pointed a claw at Thirty-Four, wiggling it from side to side. The younger wolf burst out laughing.

"Oh Luna, I'm so sorry, oh strict one," he exclaimed in between giggles. "I solemly swear not to misbehave again, or I will face your mighty elder brother wrath."

For a moment, his brother wavered, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell Thirty-Four off properly. Then he gave up, and the two of them laughed together.

"When I'm Seawylf king, there's no way I'll ever be able to boss you about," Calder said. "You're going to run me ragged."

"And I don't already?" Thirty-Four rose to his paws, eyes sparkling mischieviously. "Want to play down at the beach?" He took a few steps in the direction of the trees. His brother was less confident.

"I don't know," he said nervously, glancing up at the sky. "It's getting pretty dark. Mother and father might not mind if I'm out a little later, but they'll slaughter you." The joking tone didn't quite work.

But Thirty-Four just shrugged. "Who cares? They'll treat me the same way whatever time I get back. Might as well prolong it and enjoy myself." Bouncing a little on his paws, he crept further backwards into the woods. Calder sighed.

"Alright. I know I can't stop you," he said, his eyes twinkling a little. Leaping up, he flicked his blue tail from side to side, as if suppressing thoughts. Thirty-Four shot him a playful look. He knew that his brother had a lot on his mind nowadays. It was the job of the younger brother to distract him and remind him that he still had freedom.

Increasing his pace, he began running through the forest, and the crash of Calder following him made him laugh again. Delay it, he whispered to himself. Do everything you can to avoid going back. Stay out all night if you have to.

I've no desire to face them. Not today.

---

"You have to go back."

Calder gave him another stern, brotherly glare. It felt like he meant it more this time. But still Thirty-Four stood his ground, digging his back paws into the sand.

"No," he replied, his tone strong. "I don't want to get into another shouting match with father. You don't want that either." His ears twitched as he sighed, gazing into his brother's pale brown eyes. The look didn't waver. "Please, Cal. Just tell them I'm staying over at Lexi's or something."

But, unfortunately, Calder had chosen today to be one of his extra-prince days. Lowering his head, he bent to Thirty-Four's eye level, hunching in his shoulders. "It's no use delaying it, you know," he whispered softly. "It'll only be worse if you go back in the morning." Their snouts briefly touched together. Blue and grey. "Come on, little brother. Father only cares about you. Mother too." He sounded less sure of the latter. Better than Thirty-Four - he couldn't be at all sure of either.

"He cares about you," he muttered, but he knew he was losing the argument. If only to avoid Calder's gaze, he looked out away from the beach, at the glistening sea. The colours were duller at nighttime, but the waters still glimmered with enticing light.

Maybe I'll be a Seawylf. Then I can spend loads of time with Cal.

Yes, but I also would have mother fussing all over me. I'd have to be a proper prince. Besides, there's no Lexi underwater.

"Alright," he agreed with a sigh, turning away from the ocean. "I'll come home." Slowly, he forced himself to take a couple of pawsteps up the beach, the yellow grains flowing in between his claws. It took him only a few moments to realise that Calder wasn't following.

Glancing backwards, he saw his brother standing awkwardly, shifting his paws. "I... I think it would be best if I followed you later." He ducked his head, looking a little guilty. Thirty-Four could only nod, suppressing his frustrations.

This was the negative with Calder. Though he was great fun alone, he didn't seem to be able to act the same around their parents. Fear, that was what it was. Something Thirty-Four had overcome moons ago, replacing it with a cold hatred.

Ok, maybe hatred was the wrong word. He didn't hate his parents. But he definitely hated the way they treated him.

Even if he did deserve it.

"Fine," he called to his brother, resigned. When Calder bowed his head, looking even more guilty, he tried to smile to comfort him. "I understand, Cal. It's ok. I'll see you in the morning." As much as it annoyed him, the words were true. He did understand. If Calder came with him now, it would be clear that they'd been out late together. Then both of them would get yelled at.

By leaving his brother behind, Thirty-Four was pinning all the blame on himself. Which wasn't difficult to do.

Still, even with all the wonderful logic, his paws still felt like lead as he dragged them off the beach and onto the earthen paths. Today, he hated more than ever how close the sea was to the place he lived. After only a few minutes of reluctant trudging, he turned a corner and was faced with the ugly face of his house.

Not home. He'd long since given up calling this place home.

To any innocent onlooker, the building would actually appear rather beautiful - smooth oaken planks painted a sunny cream-yellow, with the occasional red swirl blending into the colour. The low roof jutted into the dark sky, also contstructed of wood, though this was painted pale whitish-blue. To most wolves, that pristine, claw-carved knocker hanging from the doorframe would appear inviting. It was the perfect family home.

Perfect. That was what it was. Far too perfect.

Thirty-Four's eyes glowed resentfully, dulling the blue irises to an angry navy. Was it just him, or did the place seem even more pretentiously perfect today?

No. Don't let it get to you. Deep breaths.

He softened his gaze as he approached the door. There was no use getting angry. Besides, if he let it get under his skin now, he'd have no chance in a few moments.

Pushing down his resent, he reached forwards and curled his claws around the handle. Two sharp taps. No scraping the surface. Though he did add a few claw-shaped dents, just to satisfy himself.

There was a muttered exchange, perhaps a low growl, and then the door was flung open by his extra-perfect mother. Pearls snaked her delicate light-blue chest, winding around her neck and finishing at a point between her glowering eyes.

"You're late," she told him. Not snarled - that was her partner's job. Still, the haughty glare she flashed at him before standing aside to let him enter sent his blood boiling.

"I'm sorry," he replied, through gritted teeth. "I must have lost track of time."

His mother closed the door behind him with a click. Keeping her gaze fixed on him, she moved away, flanking him as he crossed the front room and towards the kitchen. The wisps of carpet caught between his claws, and he unconciously dug into them. It created no damage - his claws weren't strong or sharp enough to cut through the tough material. The kitchen floor his claws met next was even more impenetrable - slices of various high-class stones, polished and layered to form a sickening beautiful base.

Stood in the centre of the stone-tiled room was his father, wisps of smoke drifting from the back of his neck. Not a good sign. Thirty-Four slowed to a stop as his parents both circled the room like hunters. He felt like a cornered deer, faced with two wolves that had already filled their bellies on one animal, and had decided to kill him too, just for the fun of it.

"Hello, son." His father advanced, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Been out frolicking with your little beggar friend?" The tone curled Thirty-Four's tail into a tight knot.

"Don't talk about Lexi like that," he growled, his voice trembling with anger. It took all his effort to restrain from yelling the words. "And I wasn't with her. She was working. I..." His voice caught. Darn his honest tongue - he'd been about to name Calder as the culprit. "I was just... just alone. In the forest. I didn't realise what time it was. I'm sorry." With a glance down at the floor, he took another deep breath. He couldn't lose control. It just made things worse.

But his father wasn't finished. Shifting his gaze to Thirty-Four's mother, he flicked his tail. "Do you believe him, Sarai?"

"Not in the slightest." Her pearl-studded ears twitched in amusement. "Oh, Maynard! You haven't told me how he did in his battle class today."

Maynard snorted. "Miserably, as always." Another step forward sent him towering above Thirty-Four, the tiny flames sending waves of uncomfortable heat washing over his fur. Reluctantly, he raised his head to meet his father's fiery eyes. "I wonder if that's why he hangs around with the weaklings. Because they're as miserable as he is."

Before he could rein in his emotions again, Thirty-Four's fangs briefly showed themselves. Something roared, deep in his chest. "Lexi isn't a weakling," he snarled, red wisps drifting at the edges of his vision. "She's the strongest wolf I know. Far stronger than you." Tail held high, he stared defiantly upwards. They could insult him all they liked, but not Lexi.

For another moment, Maynard glared at his son. Then, with a grunt, he turned away. Disappointment was etched into his every movement. Though he said nothing, the silence made Thirty-Four all the more determined.

"I will be stronger!" he cried, fixing his gaze fiercely on the back of his father's head. "Just wait! Father, I will do you proud. I won't be Peltless forever." He only hoped his words rung true.

Yet still, there was only silence.

"Father," he called again, taking a step forward. The smooth stone was cold beneath his paw. "Father, I will."

All of a sudden, Maynard whipped around, the darker fur around his neck flaring with a mane of roaring fire. "You are no son of mine," he hissed, his claws swiping frighteningly close to Thirty-Four's snout. "You will never be strong. I see it now. You are nothing but a failure."

A failure.

It seemed to echo. On and on. Forever.

Paralysis gripped his nerves, trapping his tongue. In that moment, the world stood still. It was only him. Alone.

Then his eyes darkened, and he glared back at his father, a deep growl erupting from his throat. "I will never be a failure," he shouted, his voice rising, alive with fury. "You have failed me. You both have!" He backed away, his gaze flicking between the two.

I'm tired of being the prey.

"I can't stand this anymore," he added, his voice lowering to a snarl. They were moving towards him, now. His mother's pale eyes were wide with shock. Shaking his head, he continued to back away, his blue eyes stained with hatred.

"Maybe I'd rather not be your son."

With a dismissive flick of his tail, he revolved to face the door, and flung it open. The hinges creaked, screeching at him to stop. But he couldn't stop now.

A voice - maybe his mother's - called the number that formed his name, but all that did was fuel his anger as he fled from the house. His paws pounded against hardened dirt. Something fizzled through his veins, emerging as a burst of energy.

He couldn't live like this. Not anymore.

He didn't belong here.