Her Savior Alpha

My steps barely made a sound on the matted leaf covered forest floor. Slinking from shadow to shadow, I stayed under the shelter of trees as I followed quite a distance behind the figure moving forward in the distance. The need to stay far enough away that her heightened senses wouldn’t pick up on any sign of me far outweighed the need to keep up. I excelled at that anyway. Patience was key.

And I truly needed patience for this mission. Hand on the bark of a tree, I waited for Vera to move, my muscles tired from stillness. I highly doubted that she would’ve noticed me anyway in her frazzled state. Remembering the hours leading up to my own shift, a sick feeling shot through me. I hated being out of control of myself.

After Vera declined my offer to watch out for her during her shift, I had to improvise. Luckily, with some sleuthing, I found that Thelma was stationed out at the border. That didn’t sit right with me - hadn’t they said they would have a private party together at Thelma’s room as she shifted? While it would’ve been hard, I was ready to figure out a way to peak through the window or sneak in somehow. Or I simply would’ve waited to see Vera transform into her wolf next and face my father’s impatience. So upon learning Thelma was not going to be in town, I had to search out Vera and see what she was up to. I’d been near Dane’s house when I noticed her figure - a figure that had come so eerily familiar it felt like second nature to see her, a hood over her black head of hair, a bag slung over her back, and legs leading her towards the forest with purpose.

I had to admit, she had changed since I first met her. Her shoulders and arms seemed to have more volume and definition, compared to the slight, bony things they used to be. Her posture itself was more sure and confident, her leg muscles toned and faster than before. Vera’s face painted across the canvas of my mind. Her cheeks became fuller and rosier, eyes brighter and more colorful, letting out all the hues of green and gold. She looked healthier, and I couldn’t understand why that brought me a sort of barely contained joy that had nothing to do with my duties. It was clear that she was beautiful, had always been beautiful; and I saw her soul for what it truly was. While I was from the opposing pack, I still didn’t get how no one could see what an amazing person Vera was.

Following behind her, I could only assume she planned on transforming out in a secluded area. Or perhaps she had something to hide? I couldn’t be certain, but I had to find it. I was also concerned. By the way she momentarily swayed or tripped over something, I worried the symptoms of her oncoming shift might overwhelm her too soon and she’d pass out on the dirt ground. But she seemed to have a good hold of her self.

After about half an hour, Vera stopped. I still remained far away, knowing there were Mount Hunter wolves stationed at the border, watching for anything out of place. Scaling a tree, I crouched on the upper branches, feet solidly balancing. From there, I had a perfect vantage point of where Vera stood, a small, slim figure. She seemed to be turning her head back and forth looking for something. What was she doing here? Was she planning on shifting alone here in the wild? The border was the limit for relative safety; beyond it was a truly wild frontier on which her pack had no control. I didn’t quite like the idea of her going through her first transformation alone, much less the potential danger she could be in. The first shift put us at our most vulnerable.

Soon enough, another figure dashed out of the forests, and I tensed my body, ready to fly to her if she was trouble. Immediately, I recognized Thelma, not a predator. While I’d heard about Thelma, I’d never gotten any direct interaction with her...there was no reason why. I’d always thought that when she was around she seemed to smell good, kind of like a garden of roses. Regarding her now, in her dark clothing made for stealth and easy flexibility, her short hair in a low ponytail, I thought she looked... interesting. It was a sharp contrast with her usual bubbly, colorful appearance.

Looking at them embrace, I supposed it all made sense. Since the original plan was off, Vera had decided to head to Thelma. I waited as they talked and spread out their food. There was still some time before the shift, so I got comfortable. The girls ate and their moments of laughter grew more frequent. Was Vera drunk? Indeed, I realized she had already run through half the bottle in her hand.

Soon after, the fun unfortunately had to end as Vera’s shift began. I could tell when the laughter stopped and Vera doubled over herself. Her breathing became louder and harsher, slowly turning into low moans. Thelma gave Vera a small glass bottle to drink from, which seemed to help a bit. But nothing could stop the horrible experience of the first shift.

Grunts of pain could be heard all the way from here. I couldn’t help it; something squeezed my heart every time Vera moaned, the achingly despairing sound making me want to go to her side. I had offered to watch her as she transformed, and I meant it. Not just to see her wolf, but also to let her squeeze my hand when the pain became to great. I wanted to whisper sweet-nothings to her. I wanted to hold her even as she thrashed around.

And thrash around, she did. Her body convulsed and writhed on the ground, the blanket ruined and crumpled from her movements. Thelma was trying to console her as best she could without getting kicked. Vera’s hands clutched at her head. Her sweater had ridden up with her movements, exposing skin that revealed movements beneath its thin layer.

I heard to crunch of bone. A gasping scream rose from Vera as her spine arched grotesquely. Then, more snapping, her skeleton breaking to create the wolf’s form. She was on all fours now, her sweater torn from the back where her muscles were growing. Shoulders expanding, Vera cried out to the moon, her scream leaving me in misery. I couldn’t do anything. This was a part of the process. Her entire body vibrated as muscles continued to grow, her arms lengthening and thickening, as well her her legs. The clothes she wore became scraps hanging off her larger frame now. Tufts of hair began sprouting across her, face lengthening and growing to create the wolf’s snout and large pearlescent eyes. Her black hair disappeared.

Silence filled the woods for a few minutes. The transformation was complete.

In Vera’s place, a wolf greater than I had ever seen stood.

The white, thick fur adorned her large body like a queenly robe. It didn’t hide the thickly corded muscles rippling beneath, the hind legs looking like they could leap into flight. Beneath the moonlight, the ivory wolf seemed streaked with silver. Sharp claws like iron blades peaked between her paws. A tail whipped languidly, powerfully in the air. What caught my eyes most were the eyes above the black-nose tipped snout: large, clear pool water green orbs, rings of liquid gold shining within around a circle of black. Upon laying my eyes open the magnificent creature, one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever witnessed, I knew this was it. It was what we were looking for: the Lycan.

For a spell, I could not move a muscle. The trees around the Lycan form grew restless, as if recognizing the immense power that Vera had just unearthed, the ancient, dormant beast. Truly, the Lycan ruled over the forces of nature, and the leaves knew it. Wind picked up, howling, and it was joined with another melodious sound. The Lycan raised its large, glorious head, opened a mouth of perfeclty sharp, gleaming pearly fangs, and let out a howl of its own. The sound hit my heartstrings directly, creating a hollow ache that I couldn’t explain. I felt enchanted by Vera’s wolf, as much as she had enthralled me.

Down below, Thelma stood as far from the Lycan as she could. Her small body shook; I could imagine the fear that had taken over her, facing such a great form of a wolf. She slowly crept farther and farther away, and I couldn’t blame her. I wondered if Vera was conscious, seeing through the Lycan’s eyes. Would she remember any of this? What would she think if she saw Thelma so afraid of her?

I didn’t know why I cared. At the moment, I had one task and on only. I knew I had to go back to my father and tell him. No, there wasn’t time. I had to call him now. This was of major importance. So far, we had only speculated. Years of work on my end and decades of research on my father’s side had gone into this project. But now, we knew who the true Lycan was: Vera.

For so long, I had felt like nothing I did would ever appease my father. In fact, he wasn’t going to send my to Mount Hunter originally. At first, one of his top men was to go and infiltrate the pack. However, I stepped forward and asked for a chance. I bargained with him, promising that I would deliver the success he wanted because I knew how much it meant to him.

“Father,” I had said, approaching him in his large, ancient looking office lined with books all along the walls. A wide, dark oak desk stood between us, but even without it, there had always been a wall. “I urge you, please reconsider sending Mathew as the spy to Mount Hunter.”

Behind his reading glasses, Alpha Sigmund raised his slate-gray eyes up to me. They were like sold iron, cold and sharp. “Why do you propose I do that?”

Taking a deep breath, I started, “Send me instead. Only I know what the success of this mission really means, and only I would follow it to completion.”

“You mean to say,” he said slowly, stroking the slight beard lining his razor-blade like jawline. My father had always been in tip-top shape despite his age. As someone as power-hungry and ambitious as him, he would never let himself go physically or mentally. “That you, who failed the last mission to slay the Deerborn Pack’s elder advisor after taking the ancient texts I needed, should be the one I trust on this mission? A mission more important and with more at stake than the last?”

Four years ago, after the failure of a battle against Mount Hunter, my father was ripping the world apart looking for information about the Lycan. When he found that his best sources would be the oldest wolves of various packs around us, he sent me out to steal the relevant texts and kill the elders to avoid anyone from passing down the information. One of my targets was an elder in Deerborn, one who lived with his young granddaughter who took care of him.

After surveying the house for a few days, I snuck into it, going to the top room that was locked by a series of defenses. Dismantling them easily, I walked into a small space that looked like mini-library with mahogany shelf-lined walls stuffed with books. I scoured the room for the texts my father wanted, and headed out to slay the elder. However, when I found him enjoying a cup of tea with his granddaughter, who was barely a teenager, something stopped me. I stood flat against the wall around the corner of their sitting room, hiding the shadows and unable to will my body to move. The scene - the two laughing as they relayed their day - reminded me a dream I used to have, one that I now knew was impossible for me. After waiting for as long as I could, I gave up and left the premises.

My father didn’t find out until a few weeks after. When he did, he called me to his office. As soon as I entered, I noticed two things. First, he was standing in the middle of the room, before his desk rather than behind it. Second, a leather crop in his hands. Left with countless whip marks painted across my back, I spent a week tied in the cellar below, starving, thirsty, shivering.

Blinking from the memories, I felt flames of humiliation burn through my veins. I stood tall and firm regardless. Shoulders straight and eyes unflinching, I stared straight back into my father’s.

“I know that of all the offspring you could have, I am the last you would have wanted. I know that you want stronger heirs upon harnessing the power of the Lycan. And in exchange for helping you, all I want is respect. If I cannot be your son, let me be your best soldier.”

And I meant it. I wasn’t a fool to think that there was any way my father would change his thoughts about his only failure of a son, whom he cursed from birth. To him, I was weak, and I wouldn’t amount to anything of value. Why would I delude myself? I was quite literally helping him in his aim to replace me.

My words got his attention, and he leaned his chin on his crossed fingers. “Fine. I will send you. But mark my words, if you fail this mission, I will wage upon you a suffering like you have never seen. Come glorious, and I will repay you in kind.” His flicked his hand toward the door, gesturing for me to leave.

“Yes, sir,” I said stoically, turning to exit the room.

The mission was my top priority. No matter how much I resonated with Vera’s pain or wanted to hunt down those who hurt her, Beartown’s glory and my respect came first. I couldn’t let feelings come between me and my goal. Snapping myself from the hypnotizing pull of Vera’s Lycan, I pulled out my cellphone, dialing the only number that was on it.

Raising it to my ear, I waited as it rang. Then, a familiar, stone-cold voice came through: “What is it?”

With my father, there were no hellos or “How have you been, son?” He went straight to the point.

“The Lycan,” I said, knowing the shorter my sentences, the better. “I’ve found it.”

“Who?” my father’s voice was louder, more pressure behind his words. “Who is it?”

I hesitated before saying the name on the tip of my tongue. “Vera. The daughter of Rachel, whom you thought was the one.”

“No, don’t tell me its that pesky little girl we used as collateral to bait the Mount Hunter Pack five years ago...”

For some reason, I wave of anger at his words came over me. My voice, though, remained clear and calm, “Yes. We were so close, but off by just a bit.”

“Dammit!” He hissed. Sigmund rarely yelled, but when he spoke softly, he was most dangerous.