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Description
For November 2012 theme challenge: Native American werewolves

Illustration for my fantasy series based on Native American mythology

The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer were packs made of animals so drab and grey they could hardly be told apart. Here was one that looked like ashes, snow, and earth mixed together. Here was one white as a blizzard with only a few streaks of black on the back like treetops showing through in the distance. Here another black and brown like bark singed by a fire. The Creative Spirit drank in the sight of each and proclaimed it good. The feet of Wolf's soul danced.
Wolf's ChildrenWhen the Creative Spirit left the world he left Wolf with an emptiness he could not leave unfilled. Each animal spirit mourned the loss of the creator in his or her own way, but eventually all turned their thoughts to the joys life had to offer. All except for Wolf. The memory of his father's disappointment nipped at his heels, driving the feet of his soul to pace relentlessly with worry.
He had been selfish. He had been cruel. It was a wonder the other animal spirits could stand to have him in their presence. He felt, though part of him insisted it could not be true, that the ugliness he brought into the world was responsible for driving their father away. The aching feet of his soul prowled the deepest tracks of his mind for answers that would let them rest.
The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer

The animal spirit Wolf is an interesting character for me, though I haven’t given much time to working on his story. He has a creative soul, but is deeply troubled by his father’s absence. The varieties of colors in the coats of wolves are a result of his gathering inspiration from the landscape and the seasons. When he learns how to take human form his marriages to women produce the first werewolves.

One of my favorite aspects of Ojibwa mythology is that the winds are people with personalities based on the seasons. I thought that would tie in nicely with Wolf’s artistic side.
Wolf's ChildrenWhen the Creative Spirit left the world he left Wolf with an emptiness he could not leave unfilled. Each animal spirit mourned the loss of the creator in his or her own way, but eventually all turned their thoughts to the joys life had to offer. All except for Wolf. The memory of his father's disappointment nipped at his heels, driving the feet of his soul to pace relentlessly with worry.
He had been selfish. He had been cruel. It was a wonder the other animal spirits could stand to have him in their presence. He felt, though part of him insisted it could not be true, that the ugliness he brought into the world was responsible for driving their father away. The aching feet of his soul prowled the deepest tracks of his mind for answers that would let them rest.
The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer Wolf's JealousyIn the Beginning Times, when the Creative Spirit walked among his children on Earth, the animal spirits competed for his affection. He encouraged them to foster friendships with one another, but most of them would focus only on him. This was true even when they appeared to be working together to accomplish a task he had set for them. Of all the animal spirits, none was more short-sighted than Wolf.
Red Fox came to Wolf with a fox coat cradled in her arms and held it up for his inspection, a satisfied smile panted across her dainty muzzle. "Father went on and on about the job you did designing the wolf's coats. Since you seem to be the expert on making animals beautiful, I thought I'd get a second opinion on this. What do you think?"
The coat was mostly gray, with silvering fur solidifying into black on the ears, legs, and tail. Wolf regarded her with narrowed eyes and scratched his chin absentmindedly. "That is hideous. You have no idea what you are doing, do you?"
Red Fox's eyes flash Rabbit Learns About MortalityIn the Beginning Times, before the animal spirits went into hiding, Rabbit was the most selfish being that had ever lived. He did not see humans as children left behind by the Creative Spirit to be raised and taught to find their place in the world. He saw a source of entertainment and a means to get out of working for his living. There was nothing he liked better than showing up at a village to demand feasts and dances be held in his honor. As one of the First Ones, he believed it was the duty of mortals to serve him.
Each passing generation of humans grew less tolerant of his antics. They saw how hard the other animal spirits worked, and decided to hold him to the same standards. First One or not, no one could expect everything to be handed to him without work. Even someone as irritating as Coyote had something to offer in the form of creative ideas for solving unusual problems. Rabbit was crafty, but he never gave so much as an idea in payment for what he demanded.
One day Rabbit's Coyote SkinCoyote was walking along and found Puma practicing with her bow and arrows. “Hiya!” he said. “I’m bored. Wanna take a bet on whose Medicine is better?”
Puma’s ears twitched. A laugh rasped from her throat and she gave him a pat on the shoulder which left a bruise. “Silly little Long-Nose, you have no Medicine,” she said. “We can bet on how fast the grass will grow for how entertaining that would be.”
“I do too have Medicine!” he said, and stuck out his tongue at her. “What, are you afraid of losing?”
She flashed the white spots on the backs of her ears at him. “Do not try to make me laugh!” she said. “I cannot be distracted. Name your terms!”
“Oh, it is a very simple bet,” he said. “First we try your Medicine, and then we try mine. Whoever’s Medicine is more impressive wins.”
“Hah!” she said with a smirk. “You like betting too much, FleasTwo immortals meet in a bar, only one by choice. It’s a quiet niche, small, cozy. Wolf’s hunting ground with solitude as prey. His camouflage is a black suit, a white beard, and a distant look.
Coyote is a firecracker, all noise and color, blue jeans and an assaultive tie-dye shirt. A tag dangles from the sleeve. Eyes follow his bee-line to Wolf, read the invitation printed on fabric.
Ask If I’m Wearing Underpants!
He plops on a stool next to his cousin and gives him a warm pat on the back. In absence of tail, he lets his tongue do the wagging. “Well, if it isn’t the handsomest humanimal around! How you been pal?”
Wolf takes a slow sip of his beer. “I had been… alone with my thoughts.”
“A nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” Coyote signals the bartender. “I’ll have one of everything.”
The human’s eyes are suspicious slivers. “Pay up front or get out.”
C

Description
For November 2012 theme challenge: Native American werewolves

Illustration for my fantasy series based on Native American mythology

The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer were packs made of animals so drab and grey they could hardly be told apart. Here was one that looked like ashes, snow, and earth mixed together. Here was one white as a blizzard with only a few streaks of black on the back like treetops showing through in the distance. Here another black and brown like bark singed by a fire. The Creative Spirit drank in the sight of each and proclaimed it good. The feet of Wolf's soul danced.
Wolf's ChildrenWhen the Creative Spirit left the world he left Wolf with an emptiness he could not leave unfilled. Each animal spirit mourned the loss of the creator in his or her own way, but eventually all turned their thoughts to the joys life had to offer. All except for Wolf. The memory of his father's disappointment nipped at his heels, driving the feet of his soul to pace relentlessly with worry.
He had been selfish. He had been cruel. It was a wonder the other animal spirits could stand to have him in their presence. He felt, though part of him insisted it could not be true, that the ugliness he brought into the world was responsible for driving their father away. The aching feet of his soul prowled the deepest tracks of his mind for answers that would let them rest.
The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer

The animal spirit Wolf is an interesting character for me, though I haven’t given much time to working on his story. He has a creative soul, but is deeply troubled by his father’s absence. The varieties of colors in the coats of wolves are a result of his gathering inspiration from the landscape and the seasons. When he learns how to take human form his marriages to women produce the first werewolves.

One of my favorite aspects of Ojibwa mythology is that the winds are people with personalities based on the seasons. I thought that would tie in nicely with Wolf’s artistic side.
Wolf's ChildrenWhen the Creative Spirit left the world he left Wolf with an emptiness he could not leave unfilled. Each animal spirit mourned the loss of the creator in his or her own way, but eventually all turned their thoughts to the joys life had to offer. All except for Wolf. The memory of his father's disappointment nipped at his heels, driving the feet of his soul to pace relentlessly with worry.
He had been selfish. He had been cruel. It was a wonder the other animal spirits could stand to have him in their presence. He felt, though part of him insisted it could not be true, that the ugliness he brought into the world was responsible for driving their father away. The aching feet of his soul prowled the deepest tracks of his mind for answers that would let them rest.
The fondest memory Wolf had of the creator was his reaction to the new coats he made for the animals he looked after. His father merely had to say, "Show me a wolf," and he could lead him to something new and beautiful. No longer Wolf's JealousyIn the Beginning Times, when the Creative Spirit walked among his children on Earth, the animal spirits competed for his affection. He encouraged them to foster friendships with one another, but most of them would focus only on him. This was true even when they appeared to be working together to accomplish a task he had set for them. Of all the animal spirits, none was more short-sighted than Wolf.
Red Fox came to Wolf with a fox coat cradled in her arms and held it up for his inspection, a satisfied smile panted across her dainty muzzle. "Father went on and on about the job you did designing the wolf's coats. Since you seem to be the expert on making animals beautiful, I thought I'd get a second opinion on this. What do you think?"
The coat was mostly gray, with silvering fur solidifying into black on the ears, legs, and tail. Wolf regarded her with narrowed eyes and scratched his chin absentmindedly. "That is hideous. You have no idea what you are doing, do you?"
Red Fox's eyes flash Rabbit Learns About MortalityIn the Beginning Times, before the animal spirits went into hiding, Rabbit was the most selfish being that had ever lived. He did not see humans as children left behind by the Creative Spirit to be raised and taught to find their place in the world. He saw a source of entertainment and a means to get out of working for his living. There was nothing he liked better than showing up at a village to demand feasts and dances be held in his honor. As one of the First Ones, he believed it was the duty of mortals to serve him.
Each passing generation of humans grew less tolerant of his antics. They saw how hard the other animal spirits worked, and decided to hold him to the same standards. First One or not, no one could expect everything to be handed to him without work. Even someone as irritating as Coyote had something to offer in the form of creative ideas for solving unusual problems. Rabbit was crafty, but he never gave so much as an idea in payment for what he demanded.
One day Rabbit's Coyote SkinCoyote was walking along and found Puma practicing with her bow and arrows. “Hiya!” he said. “I’m bored. Wanna take a bet on whose Medicine is better?”
Puma’s ears twitched. A laugh rasped from her throat and she gave him a pat on the shoulder which left a bruise. “Silly little Long-Nose, you have no Medicine,” she said. “We can bet on how fast the grass will grow for how entertaining that would be.”
“I do too have Medicine!” he said, and stuck out his tongue at her. “What, are you afraid of losing?”
She flashed the white spots on the backs of her ears at him. “Do not try to make me laugh!” she said. “I cannot be distracted. Name your terms!”
“Oh, it is a very simple bet,” he said. “First we try your Medicine, and then we try mine. Whoever’s Medicine is more impressive wins.”
“Hah!” she said with a smirk. “You like betting too much, FleasTwo immortals meet in a bar, only one by choice. It’s a quiet niche, small, cozy. Wolf’s hunting ground with solitude as prey. His camouflage is a black suit, a white beard, and a distant look.
Coyote is a firecracker, all noise and color, blue jeans and an assaultive tie-dye shirt. A tag dangles from the sleeve. Eyes follow his bee-line to Wolf, read the invitation printed on fabric.
Ask If I’m Wearing Underpants!
He plops on a stool next to his cousin and gives him a warm pat on the back. In absence of tail, he lets his tongue do the wagging. “Well, if it isn’t the handsomest humanimal around! How you been pal?”
Wolf takes a slow sip of his beer. “I had been… alone with my thoughts.”
“A nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” Coyote signals the bartender. “I’ll have one of everything.”
The human’s eyes are suspicious slivers. “Pay up front or get out.”
C