Siberian Wolf

ALEK      It's getting closer. I thought to myself as I matched forward in the light drizzle of snow. It was late March, so the snowfalls were lighter, while the snow on the ground was thinning and getting muddy. I had been planning to cross into Weberville from Peace River, but I had to make last-minute changes to my plans due to meeting a cleared area where there was supposed to be thick woods and vegetation to hide as I traveled. The area seemed to have been cleared for the construction of warehouses, and that meant I wouldn't be able to travel unnoticed until construction was over or paused for the season.      Sadly, I don't see that happening soon. March was almost over, and spring was on its way. If anything, construction efforts would double.       I pushed my hair back, forcing the long blond strands of hair to stay in place. I had my hair in a high bun, but stray strands kept getting loose. I gritted my teeth, trying to fight the chill of the breeze that just blew by as I kept walking. There were other werewolves around. I knew that. I could smell their scent, and I've been avoiding them for the past few days.      Being alone was hard sometimes, but it wasn't so terrible that I sort refugee with a group. I'm a lone wolf. In other terms, a rogue. I left my pack in the Siberian Mountains and I traveled through Russia before leaving the country completely. I move from town to town, state to state and country to country without much thought.      I don't need much thought. All I'm trying to do is fill the void and emptiness I can't stop feeling. Right now, I'm in the middle of Nowhere in a small town in Alberta, Canada. Peace River has a population just scratching seven thousand. It's also largely rural with acres of untouched vegetation and wilderness. It was the perfect place for Werewolves to hide in plain sight, and that's why I had been eager to cross over to the next town, but the construction work had rendered me stranded. I now have to seek out the wolves I've been avoiding for the past three days. It's aggravating, and I'm also worried and a bit hesitant. I haven't hadn't seen a full pack in years. Five to be exact. I left my pack at the age of thirty, and now I'm thirty-five.      Why are they building in the snow, even? I wondered to myself, biting and licking my lips to give it much needed moisture. Dry winters were the worst. And that was Canadian weather for you. Dry and cold. It would be completely unbearable to travel on foot if I couldn't change into a wolf. I started to slow down my steps. The scent of the pack was becoming stronger, and I was beginning to have second thoughts. I could always find a cave in the woods to spend the night. I'm comfortable with my wolf form and I could spend a few days — even weeks wandering about as a wolf and it wouldn't be a problem.      A sigh left my lips as I came to a stop at the beginning of a path down to a clearing. I scratched my full beard as my ice blue eyes focused on the cabins arced around a courtyard in the distance. I thought about turning back, but I shook my head and discarded the thought. If the Pack had Epsilon wolves, they would have already sniffed me out by now. The pack was waiting for me to walk up to the center. I could feel.      With a deep breath as I started making my way down the path and into the clearing. As I walked into their territory I saw werewolves in both their human and wolf forms appear from the shadows. Parents with children, caretakers with the aged, and high ranked officials at the porch of the building in the center. I continued to walk forward lowering my head to show that I wasn't here as a treat.      It didn't matter, the men and women on the porch gnashed their teeth and growled at me, putting their fangs on display. I'm sure to everyone within a visible distance I was just a rouge. They wouldn't know I had been a headhunter at my former pack — a Kappa, and they wouldn't know that I had left willingly for personal reasons. Of course, they wouldn't know that. How would they?      I licked my lips again, not because of the dry air but to show submission as I raised my head. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to talk so I just looked from side to side, taking in the people that had formed a small open circle around me. Apart from being a rogue, I'm sure I looked foreign. I stuck out like a sore thumb with my blue eyes, pale skin and blonde hair in the sea of dark-haired bronze-skinned people. Peace River had a high first nations population, and I think I've stumbled into a community of them.      "Well," the man at the center of the group on the porch spoke up as he stepped forward. He rested his hands on the railings, squinting at me as he observed me with a half curious, half annoyed look. "What do you want?" he asked.      "There's a construction project going on up north," I started, watching as the curiosity of the pack members seemed to grow. I wasn't sure if it was my mention of the construction or if it was my accent. Everyone seemed to pinpoint that it was Russian whenever I spoke up. "I can't travel with that little vegetation to hide in and that many humans walking about," I added, hoping they understood why I had come to them.      "You want shelter?" the woman beside the man said, and I nodded. She looked away from me, leaning into the man so that she could whisper into his ear. I could smell them. Yes, them. They were mates, and just looking at them made my chest sting with jealousy. This was one of the reasons I avoided other wolves. Looking from left to right you could always spot mates and to see that every day was just a reminder that I didn't have one.      It wasn't that I was yet to find my mate. I just didn't have one at all. I started to get worried when some of my friends found their mates in their mid-teenage years, but I had waited until I turned eighteen to put a name to that empty feeling in my chest. People could find their mates as early as they turned, but it usually took time for mates to cross paths. At eighteen you feel a pull, making the chance for mates to bump into each other more likely, but at eighteen I hadn't felt anything. My spirt felt empty, and my wolf grew agitated. Talking to an elder helped me clear things up, but my worries had been confirmed to realities.      I didn't have a mate. My mate probably died during childbirth or, an age before three. They didn't exist, and I was left yearning for a wholeness that would never materialize as reality.      "How long do you plan to stay here?" the woman asked, turning back to me. I opened my mouth but closed it again when I realized it would be wouldn't be wise giving dates. I wasn't sure when the construction would end.      "When the construction work is over or on pause," I answered instead, and the she-wolf gave me a small smile before turning back to her mate. The man's expression seemed to soften when she nudged him, and I made a mental note to thank the woman for persuading her mate to consider my stay.      "Okay," the man said, and just like that, the crowd started to thin out. I looked about, wondering where to go, but remained still when I saw one of the men on the porch raise up his hand.      "We'll get someone to show you where you'll stay," he said, looking behind him to talk to the lady that had just walked out of the packhouse. In the bustle and hustle, a stench hit my nose. I was at first irritated by how strong it was, but my mouth started to water with interest—lust? I started sniffing around, and the noise around me faded as my eyes went back to the packhouse entrance and narrowed down on the long-haired man that walked through it. I swallowed down spit in surprise at how my heart was beating, and at how dazed I was feeling.      He was simply beautiful, or maybe it was just his pheromones confusing me.      Who lets a wolf in heat just walk around like that? I wondered, watching as the man slipped through the crowd and walked down the stairs. He looked young, and unlike many of the people here no one was clinging to him, and I couldn't spot a possible mate. He was tall, lean, and had a sweet aura around him.      My wolf stirred.      It wanted him—I wanted him.      I forced myself to look away, but that didn't last long and soon I was searching the clearing for the man again. From his sweet smell, and his alluring pheromones I could tell he was an omega or at least some sort of subordinate. My eyes found the man again, and I rose a brow in interest as I watched him squat by a toddler before hugging the child and picking him up.      The child laughed a bit, pulling at the man's long hair before he was stopped. "Daddy?" the child's voice was small, but I picked it up and my stomach sank.      The man had a child, which meant he probably had a mate.      Of course, what was I thinking? The little interest and hope that had been stirring in me died. It seemed he noticed me staring since he turned over to me and our eyes locked for a brief moment before I looked away out of nervousness. I didn't want anyone's mate harassing me, and I just got here so it was better I didn't get into trouble.      The man and his child disappeared into the packhouse soon after, and I waited in the courtyard until someone came out to usher me in. When I had followed the pack scent to their settlement I had expected to be anxious because I would have to deal with other werewolves, but my mind wasn't on the crowd of people I kept walking past and having to talk to. My mind was still on the man. I could smell him. His scent was littered everywhere. From the furnishing to the rugs and stray items on the table like pens and notebooks. He probably did a lot of housework. I wanted to ask about him, but I didn't know what to say, and where the line for asking questions was drawn. My wolf kept stirring, and my heart kept beating at an irregular fast pace.      Gosh. I rubbed my eyes before asking for a glass of water. I tried to think of other things, but my mind kept wandering back to the man, and I hated myself for it. Apart from the fact that he must think I'm a horny creep, the person that was mated to him would probably kill me if they caught me ogling. He wasn't mine.      I had no one.      It's been seventeen years since I realized this, but it was still a hard pill to swallow.