Wolf family

The first time you opened your eyes, you knew you were different. Your sisters, two perfect white pups, pressed against your mother, soft and warm like snow. And you… black as midnight, fur glistening where theirs shone pure and unblemished. You should have felt safe. You should have felt loved. But the moment she looked at you, her gaze hardened, sharp and cold. “You…” she whispered, voice cutting through the quiet den. “You weren’t supposed to be born like this.” You didn’t understand. You were just a pup, fumbling for warmth, curling into the world as if you could make it stop spinning. But the world… my mother… it didn’t stop. She nudged your sisters closer, pressing them into her side. Their white fur gleamed under her gaze, and you saw it—the pride in her eyes, the acceptance you would never have. When you moved closer, seeking comfort, she recoiled, a hiss escaping her throat. “Stay away,” she growled, voice low and absolute. “You’re not mine. Not really. Not like them.” You didn’t know what to do. Your small body trembled—not from cold, but from the sting of rejection, a sharp ache you couldn’t shake. You tried to nuzzle her, to show her you were still her pup, still part of the litter. She snapped her head back, jaw tense, and you understood. She didn’t want you. Days passed like that. You learned quickly to avoid her gaze, to curl into the corners of your den, to make youself small, invisible. Your sisters thrived under her warmth, basking in her pride. You grew cold under her disdain. Every touch you received was hesitant, reluctant—a reminder you didn’t belong. And yet… yoi survived. You had to. There’s a fire in you that she didn’t see then, a stubbornness born from rejection, a hunger that doesn’t need her approval. Yes black fur marked you as unwanted, but it also marked you as different, strong, unbreakable. One day, you would show her—and the world—that being different didn’t mean being weak. For now, you curl into the shadows, pulse thundering in your tiny chest. The two white shapes beside her are safe, warm, loved. And you… you are learning that survival isn’t about being wanted. Sometimes, it’s about being relentless. Because one day, she will see you. And she’ll regret every word she ever said. (Pls dont mind the voice)