Training through the Years

Fourteen Years Old:
I growl in frustration as my small frame falls into a snow drift, hating this training exercise while I dodge trees in wolf form with my white fur blending into the snow perfectly. My body is only three feet tall in wolf form, my head barely able to see over a standard white picket fence. But Matrix insisted on me training in this form in the forest. Matrix is a pro at tracking and hunting, the sixteen year old already tracking wolves for days even though he is a Warrior. With a nose like his, so strong that he can smell a Soulless before it can even cross the pack line, it takes everything in me to stay ahead of my friend.
Matrix has unfortunately made it his mission to train my speed and agility, something a runt like me could only inherit. Speed and agility will help me take down an enemy. Speed and agility will help protect myself, especially since father has made it his mission to make me seem weak in this pack. With speed and agility, I can take down my enemies and prove to be a strong Alpha Queen.
A yelp escapes my muzzle as I feel my paws slipping out from under me as a five-foot-six brown wolf tackles my small form. I can't help the sigh that escapes my lips as I stare at my friend who gives me a wolfish grin.
[You're easy to take down when distracted.] Matrix chuckles through our link, nuzzling me gently before licking my snout. I knew if a wolf could blush, I would be beet red right now.
[Sorry. But I will do better, I promise.] For some reason, I did not want to disappoint Matrix. He is my rock, the only person who knows I am a runt.

Sixteen Years Old:
The rush of wind through my fur has me excited for the first hunt. Matrix has been promising me this for over three years since I first shifted. I just turned sixteen today and the adrenaline of hunting my first kill deep in the forest is something I had dreamt of since I was a pup, when my mother first explained to me that eligible wolves can go for their first hunt and prove themselves to our pack. Of course, Father insisted I am too weak to go., claiming that only the strong should be allowed to go for their first hunt.
But Matrix as always stood up for me, stating my achievements in training, how I took down a group of Soulless while we were on the outskirts of the pack training my speed and agility, and how on the training grounds I can take down even the best of our Warriors. This and with the convincing of others stating that at thirteen I was the youngest in the pack to survive a first shift, and that joining the first hunt will help make me stronger and in turn provide strong pups to help rule the werewolf nation, my father was forced to finally agree to let me go for the first hunt.
[So, Crysta, do you want a blanket made of bear fur?] Trix asks with a laugh. I smirk, thinking of the pride hunting a bear comes with within the pack. Only Warriors and the strongest hunt bears. If I can bag one on my own, then respect will follow. Pack mates will understand that I am not as weak as father proclaims me to be, that I can hold my own against anyone.
[Yes. A bear will put that asshole and any other misogynistic wolf in their place for calling me weak. I am not a weak wolf!] I answer, a rumble of approval coming from my friend before we head off in the direction of bear country in neutral territory. Our aim is for seasoned bears that have lived long lives with expert fighting skills, ones without cubs. And I can’t wait to have that damned blanket as proof that I am not the weakest in this pack. They will learn to respect me as their future Queen or be beaten into submission.