Her Savior Alpha

Something was wrong.

I didn’t know if Lycan had extra hypersensitive system compared to normal werewolves, but I knew sweating as much as I did just sitting at my desk was not normal. I got up to pace around my room, leaving my mom’s old journal, feeling restless.

That morning, Grant had left for some diplomatic journey to neighboring pack towns. Our allies had meet the new alpha of Mount Hunter, after all. I was alone in the house, not including the many guards milling around outside. Still, I couldn’t seem to shake this weird paranoia off of me. It prickled the back of my neck, causing an eruption of goosebumps across my arms. It was that jittery feeling I got after have strong coffee before going outside shivering in the cold winter.

Maybe I was coming down with something.

The doorbell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. I skipped downstairs, assuming it would be someone I knew considering the guards would never let someone suspicious past the lawn boundaries (much less up the porch to ring the bell). Thelma was on duty on the other side of the town. Archer never mentioned visiting; he would probably be either out for a run or in his dorm at the barracks.

Padding down the front hall, I unlatched the door, swinging it open.

As soon as I faced the visitor, a sense of doom filled my entire body. I didn’t recognize the older man standing on the threshold. He was tall and slim, but packing hard muscle beneath his tight-fitting dark clothes - that looked like what a soldier would wear before going to war. His hair was a rich dark chocolate, slicked back and tied in a low ponytail. He had eerily familiar thick shadowy brows, heavy over hooded steel gray eyes. His face looked good for his age, if it weren’t cemented in a permanent, stoic frown. His nose was hooked, as though it had been broken when he was young.

While the man drove a spear of fear straight into my chest, the entourage flanking him pushed it the last few centimeters into my heart. Ice ran through my veins as I took in the sight of burly, dark-clothed solders, at least a dozen spread across the lawn, the lower faces hidden by masks. Alongside them were a number of wild animal; coyotes, foxes, bears, normal wolves; all stood among the throng with hunched backs, glazed over red eyes, and baring sharp teeth into snarls.

My breath caught in my throat, threatening to choke me to death.

“The young woman of the hour,” the man spoke, his voice like grating metal, cutthroat and meticulous in every word that came out of his thin lips. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

His oily gaze rove across me, and I was so ashamed to tremble in front of him.

I couldn’t help it. Terror immobilize me; the scene was horrifying similar to what happened five years ago.

A shocking pain burst through my head, my ears ringing. Snarls and growls, echoes of yells and screaming whispered in my ears; a cacophony of sounds that weren’t really there. My vision wavered before me. Image of war were superimposed on the current scene. Coyotes around me. Men and wolves alike surrounding me with devilish looks on their faces. My parents screaming. Cries in the distance. Smoke and fire coming from somewhere.

“No!” I gasped, clamping my hands over my ears, trying to get rid of the noise - the painful noise of my pack screaming as they...

“Now’s not the time for dramatics, darling,” the man said, slithering a gloved hand around my upper arm and yanking me out of the house. I was too busy trying to breathe to break free.

My chest shuddered with breath that felt like ripping air in and out of my lungs painfully. I gasped and heaved as I tried to get blood flow into my brain. I couldn’t focus. Every time a coyote or wild animal entered my field of vison, my head pounded and my vision twisted. I was back there, sprawled in the ground, gripped by the claws of Beartown enemies, my parents before me at the mercy of Sigmund.

Wait...Sigmund. This was him. He was older, and like only slightly different from what he used to, but his face was blurry in my memories as I tried to erase as much as I could.

I could never forget, however, how my mother shrieked my name, how my father howled in anger when they were ripped apart; how thick, dark red blood spurted across me, hitting my skin like hot lava. My wrist throbbed.

I shook, hyperventilating while the man - Sigmund - dragged me out to the clearing. I was doubled over even as he kept a hold on my arm.

“You certainly are coming quite easily, aren’t you? I knew I should not have trusted Archer, that damn fool,” Sigmund tsked. “I thought this would take time, but now we have plenty to focus on ransacking and taking over this pitiful pack.” With two fingers, he gestured to someone over his shoulder. A masked soldier zoomed forward, awaiting orders. “Alert troops. War will commence.

Archer! War! The Town! Shit!

My eyes darted around like a feral prey seeking escape. The guards that surrounded the area were all down, sprawled unconscious on the ground. Then something caught my eye behind Sigmund’s army of men and animals, peeking around the side of the house. A glint of glasses.

It was one of the messengers - his dark blue coat was just slightly visible. He’d managed to hide before getting found out; only my presence distracted the bloodthirsty army from sniffing the air for potential stragglers.

Finding a ray of clarity within my mind, I screamed at the messenger with mindlink. You - go to Archer - he’s at the barracks. Tell him - Sigmund - is here! Alert Grant. Prepare for war! GO!

From his hiding place, the shaking messenger nodded, disappearing behind the house.

Alone with Beartown enemies, I huffed through my dazed mind, the colors all blurring together. Fur on fur, teeth on teeth, snarl blending with snarls - red animalistic eyes glared at me, making my eyes bleed.

“Let go of me!” I screeched, thrashing around in a frenzy. “Don’t kill them! Mom! No!”

“Now, now, don’t tell me our little attack five years ago did such a number on you,” Sigmund chuckled, securing me in his bruising grip. “Why, your just as rapid as my dear soldiers who failed my experimentations. The poor fellows lost their humanity, running around like unbred beasts. You can try to control the wild ones, but never seem to give a werewolf more power without them losing something up there.” His voice seemed gleeful, as though he were gloating.

The rapid rogues Clive had mentioned taking care of! Sigmund was the culprit behind them this whole time.

Tears blurred my vision as I clawed at my throat with my bare hand, feeling my airway close in. Get away. I had to get away. Or the coyotes would slice me up like they did my parents. Run. Run fast before they slaughter you.

With a choked roar, I clamped my teeth over Sigmund’s hand, biting through flesh.

“ARGH!” he growled, his grip loosening. Through my scrambled mind, I managed to recognize the chance to flee and broke into a desperate run, one of a panicked hare or a terrified deer running from prey. I didn’t know where I was headed, but I had to get at least Sigmund away from the pack. I only hoped Archer got the message before Beartown’s troops closed in.

Breathing uncontrollably, I stumbled through the woods, swiping away branches and trying to ignore the images flashing through my mind. Howls and fast-paced paws thudded in the distance behind me.

Vere, please calm yourself. You are here, I am with you. The past is no more. My Lycan’s voice bellowed in my head.

Help me, get me out of here!

Get a grip on yourself, dear Vera. I can assist you. But you need to slow your breathing.

I did as my wolf insisted, the ancient voice grounding me to the present. Still running, I focused on the air coming in and out, the chilliness stinging my nostrils, wind dashing past my bare arms. I cursed myself for wearing a t-shirt that evening. It was colder than usual.

Memories gradually faded until I could only hear the animalistic yelps and barks behind me. My chest strained as I tried to balance breathing properly and running at the same time.

I need to stop. I have to find a place to hide. I said through the thickness of my mind.

Good. Now, I must show you something. An ancient power exists in Lycan blood that can neutralize any attempts to manipulate other creatures. As a critical taboo, we Lycan are the beacons of justice.

Okay, okay! Just tell me how I can do it.

There are many ways for werewolves to gain control over such animals, my wolf began explaining. Some by hypnotic powers, other by force and training, others still by playing with the dark arts. I sense the latter from Sigmund; a sinister cloud surrounded him like a bad smell. His natural wolf powers that run in the Beartown bloodline cannot control an army of creatures that large, and for so long. I am sure that he is using some sort of magic or amulet on his person that allows him to strengthen his power to control them all.

So you’re saying he probably has some magical object or tattoo or something that makes hm more powerful?

Look with me Vera. You were not in your right mind, but this is what your eyes captured.

In the screen of my mind, a vision played, like a movie on film. Sigmund stood next to me, his hold tight. But even as I flailed, the replay went in slow motion, and I could grasp a glint of red from beneath Sigmund collar - an oval jewel, scarlet like liquid blood, hung from a pendant of black leather.

But how am I supposed to release them without being near Sigmund?

Have you ever wondered why Sigmund would need the Lycan? We have super natural abilities that threaten the power of any authoritarian - we nullify it.

An image of a great white wolf, glowing silver and fur waving in a nonexistent breeze stood before a great army of animals with red eyes, in some unknown backdrop. The Lycan’ eyes beamed gold, the light flashing out across the sea of creatures, and when the wave finished, they all had they dark, round eyes, looking around cluelessly.

You must transform, face them fearlessly, look straight into their eyes and use my power. It will release them. You can also speak to them gently, and they will listen. Animals recognize Lycan as their protectors.

I slowed to a jog. I had to face the animals, the coyotes who looked so eerily similar to the ones who killed my parents and pack, who left me with a permanent scar on my wrist. Controlling my breath, I closed my eyes and made the intention to shift; the change happened within seconds; then I stood on four legs, feeling immense power pulsate beneath my exhaustion.

The terrible snarls and footfalls were upon me, and I turned in time to see fgures of galloping animals - sharp-ear brownish gray coyotes, a few orange coated foxes, a couple of large cantering bears with glistening black fur. They raced between trees, red eyes glowering at their target: me. I stood my ground as they neared.

I steadied my trembling in the face of what haunted my nightmares, ready to end this.

I’m ready, I told the Lycan within me.

Visualize the blood thrumming in your veins, the magic in in flowing up to your eyes.

I did as my wolf commanded, focusing on my internal body and trying to ignore the fact that Sigmund’s animals were closing in. They were a basketball court’s distance away.

Pressure built up in my eyes and I barely felt the wind and trees pick up around me, sensing the immense magic. I held it, feeling like was trying to balance a weight scale, trying to hold that energy in my eyes without letting it escape or losing my grip on it. Concentration ate at my mind, sweat dripping down my fur.

The coyotes snarled and leapt, so close to their object. The foxes slid silently through the air, their legs flying across the woodland ground, while the bears enormous bodies shivering with every use of muscle. Finally, I could see and look into their eyes directly, seeing the murky, glazed vermillion land on me in hunger.

You know what to do, my wolf said softly.

I redirected the pressure behind my eyes outward, imagining it laser-pointing at every animal’s eyes. Light emit out from my body as I felt the relieving escape of my built-up power, and a golden glow washed over the mass of beasts encircling me.

Within seconds, the animals paused in their advance, slitted eyes widening and blackening to their normal forms. Confused whines filled the air; they were too confused to even try to get into brawls with each other. One bear moaned as it rose on two feet, letting out a huge yawn, then returned on four and ambled out of the fringe, into the trees. The other bear followed, while the foxes scattering around, wondering where they were. Many coyotes sniffed around silently, some padding away from the unfamilar scene.

“No! What has happened here!” Sigmund voice rang out across the woods as quickly approaching marching came closer. Then the tall dark figure of the Beartown Alpha appeared between trees

Deafening thumps sounded from the direction of the pack. Haunting horn rang in the air. I cocked my head, picking up on the sounds of yells and fighting, growls and weapons clanging, mewls and screams; war had begun.

“Sir,” a masked soldier sprinted from the trees. “The Mount Hunter Pack’s army has been organized, they are pushing our forces out. They are led by... your esteemed son.”

An evil look of dismay shadowed Sigmund face. “How dare he,” he hissed.

“They are headed here, sir,” The messenger said urgently.

“Let them!” Sigmund snarled. “So I can rip them to pieces myself.”

“You say that but you know that without the animals you made into your army, you don’t have the full power,” I reminded him slyly, having transformed back to human. I didn’t care that my body was ono full display, long hair covering my front.

“You don’t know anything about Beartown’s power, young lady,” Sigmund said calmly, threateningly. He stepped forward and I did too, before we both simultaneously transformed to our wolf forms. I focused on him even after the sounds of war surrounded us, Mount Hunter wolves and humans wielding weapons alike swarming into the fray.

Beartown versus Mount Hunter were due for a do-over.