Three Hearts One Soul

The woods were alive with the sounds of growls, yelps and howls. A push had been made by the Kingston pack on the Catskill pack's territory. This, naturally, did not go unanswered, and the resulting battle was fierce. Of course, they stopped short of actually doing enough damage to kill each other but there was plenty of fur flying. Vincent was in the middle of this, his pitch-black pelt and small form making him stand out from the rest. It was obvious he wasn't a fighter, but a peacemaker. However, during this time of conflict, even he was doing his best in the fighting. There is something to be said about small, agile wolves that can nip at the heels of the bigger ones, making for a great distraction. Still, even the most agile of wolves can put a paw wrong, trip on an unexpected root. It was with unceremonious and ungraceful fate that Vincent found himself leaving the ground. He would have gone sprawling but for the fact that there was a reddish-brown wolf right in front of him. A wolf that didn't realize he was coming until it was too late. The first thing that Vincent noticed, as they were both sent sprawling, was how big and bulky the other was. It was obvious to him that, had Vincent not had velocity on his side, the other wolf would not have been moved at all. As it was, to say the other had gone sprawling would be really an injustice... he mostly had just lost his footing and rolled over briefly. The second thing that he noticed, though, was a feeling of electricity passing between him and the rival wolf. It almost felt like two super-strong magnets with the positive and negative side pointing at each other. The other looked at him in shock, obviously feeling the attraction as well. The scent from the other, which was already very potent, changed to one of anger and disbelief as he jumped up and shouted in wolf. “No way! There is no way in hell you are mine! You must be magic as well as a Jester!" The roar from the rival wolf stopped the battle in its tracks. The Kingston pack, used to answering his call, started surrounding the red-brown wolf, baring their teeth and growling at Vincent. His pack, for their part, hesitated only a moment, before the leader stepped in front of the confused and concerned Jester. “Tallow, I don't know what you're on about but you would do well not to accuse a member of MY pack of such things! Take your pack and go home, it is clear something has happened and it isn't going to be solved by force of teeth," the older wolf growled, his body posture saying more than his voice did. When he wasn't obeyed, he barked out an order that even the rival pack couldn't fight. It sent them scattering, leaving the territory to the Catskill pack for the moment. Russel looked down at Vincent, a look of questioning disapproval in his eyes. Vincent immediately stood up, tail tucked and ears back. He couldn't explain what had happened, not to satisfaction. He was confused himself, and now scared because apparently the heir to the Kingston pack hated him. The very thought, though, caused his heart to wrench in agony, ripping a whimper from his lips. Hearing that, the leader sighed heavily. “Catskill pack, home! Remember to return to two legs before you get into town," Russel's orders were barked out and immediately obeyed. The pack ran off, leaving behind the highest and lowest ranking members. Vincent started following only to be stopped by the older, larger wolf, whose human voice was as gruff as his growls. “Vincent, hold up. You and I are going to be walking home in human form. There are a lot of things to discuss, such as the fact of why you were not paying attention to where your feet were!" The sound of disappointment in his leader's voice caused Vincent to whine and immediately shift forms. He was grateful that the innate magic of shifters allowed them to be dressed in what was essentially a tracksuit once they shifted from wolf to human. Russel started walking, limping slightly from what appeared to be a twisted ankle. At least that was what Vincent suspected, given there was no sign of blood on his leader. He glanced down at his own arms, seeing his dusky hands bruised and a bit battered from tripping. He even had a broken nail which occasionally would throb with pain if he thought on it too long. Thus, it was the two who walked and talked, first with barest praise for doing so well. Then with explanations as to why the hell had Vincent not been paying attention. It finally finished with what happened between Vincent and Tallow. However, when Vincent mentioned what he had felt after that initial touch, Russel stopped in his tracks. He stared hard and long at his younger compatriot, a look of deep concern in his eyes. “Are you absolutely POSITIVE on what you felt, Vincent?" he asked, his voice low and worried; when the other nodded, the leader sighed and looked troubled. He continued in the same tone, “What you are describing is something known as the “Fated Mate Syndrome". Basically, you only experience that when your Fated has touched you. If that is truly the case, then it is no wonder Tallow reacted as such. This is very worrying." Vincent asked why without words and the leader answered. Apparently, no one could break the bond of the Fated Mate. However, Lucas Tallow was the heir of the rival pack and his father hated the Catskill pack with a passion. He would have raised his son to have the same disdain and dismissal of them, along with those of lower rank than him. There was a chance that he would try to deny the attraction. Vincent wasn't entirely sure but he felt something akin to a stabbing sensation in his heart at the thought. He didn't want to lose his mate before he even got a chance to know him.