Saving the Alpha of a Thousand Wolves

3. Alpha and Beta

Vladimir Randall

My body began to contort and shift, my muscles and bones cracking and reforming as I felt my transformation take place. I could feel my wolf form pushing its way through me as my clothes burst open, revealing the beast beneath. A ragged howl escaped from my throat as the final touches of the shift took hold.

As I stood breathing heavily, the world around me seemed to sharpen in a way that it hadn't before. The moonlight illuminated the night sky, allowing shades of blue and silver to dance across my fur. My senses had become heightened, I could smell the faint scent of flowers on the breeze, taste the dew on the grass left untouched by man and see every detail of Greta's face as she watched me in awe.

With one last look at her, I let out another howl before turning away and running into the night with Juan close behind me. Together we flew across the land with ease, our paws barely touching the ground as we raced through trees and leapt over streams without effort. Everything was louder, brighter, and stronger than ever before; though no sound or sight was quite like that of our two howling voices rising in unison into the night sky.

You couldn't have bothered to just send this news through the link, Santiago? I asked my Beta through the mind link, a telepathic connection all natural-born wolves in a pack shared, as we continued to run toward our territory in Granville. You really just needed to interrupt what little time my soulmate and I had?

Forgive me, Alpha. I sensed that you were nearby, so I thought of delivering the news to you in person.

I made a mental sigh. Even though I trusted Juan with my life, there were times that I wanted to punch him in the face. Next time, just use the damn link.

Aye, Alpha.

Juan Santiago was the runt of the litter in his family. He had brothers, the twins, Pedro and Joaquin, but they had died in a tragic fire together with their parents. Erico, Juan's father, had been my father's Beta. With no other left in their line, I had taken Juan as my second-in-command. With lots of intense training and constant mentorship, he had proven worthy of his rank.

I, on the other hand, was the only son of our pack's Alpha and Luna, Ivan and Nina. My father was Irish, and my mother was Russian. When they had discovered that they were soulmates, they moved to America and settled in Granville to form the Randall Pack. They had been great wolves, feared and respected among the werewolf race. However, treacherous and envious eyes coveted their status, and they had been killed in the same fire that took Santiago's family. I had just turned twenty-one then, and I had taken it upon myself to rebuild what my parents had created. Fast forward nine years and the Randall Pack was back on the pedestal.

During one of our routine border checks once I was the Alpha, I came across a maiden whose beauty was unmatched by any other. Greta Lovelace. Without hesitation, I pursued her and told her that she was the other half of my soul. The one true mate the Moon Goddess -or as the Witches of Vermont called her, the Balance- had reserved for me. At first, I thought it was impossible since natural-born wolves were only meant to be with other wolves. But as they said, fate works in mysterious ways.

Greta had a hard time believing, much more, trusting me. Especially after what she had been through. However, slowly but surely, she lowered her walls to let me in. That was how I knew she was the First Witch. It wasn't just a fancy title she gave herself. She was literally the first-ever witch in history, which makes her way, way older than I am. But I did not care. Though we haven't sealed the mating process, as I haven't marked her yet, she was still my destined soulmate. I was grateful for Greta as it was because of her the werewolf race came into existence.

And if you hadn't done what you did, I wouldn't be here, I remembered my words to her earlier. They were true, no matter how tragic. Anselm, Greta's younger brother, was the First Wolf. Anselm had been mysteriously ill, and in her desperation, Greta sought help, not knowing her brother's healing would come at a cost. With newly-found powers, Greta had healed her brother of his inexplicable sickness, only to create a new disease -the Lycanthrope Affliction. In his mindless rage, Anselm had fled, wreaking havoc upon the earth, thus furthering the werewolf race. Legend has it that the Moon Goddess took pity upon those afflicted with the First Curse, so she gave them their soulmates - the other half that would tame their seething temper.

Alpha, Juan began, halting my trip down memory lane. Are you certain that it is the Salem Wolves who are after us tonight?

I am not. But who else could it be? I answered him with a mental laugh, The Whitewood Pack really took a beating from us last time.

We continued to run swiftly through the dark forest of Granville, dodging trees and avoiding animals as we went. I could feel my heart racing in anticipation of a fight, not out of fear, but because I was finally getting some much-needed stretching after a month of sitting still. We had decided to take a shortcut around the pack house which would save us time and energy.

As we reached the edge of our territory, the night sky seemed to come alive with stars twinkling. A few hundred yards away from us at the border were two werewolf scouts: Pyotr and Rascal; their eyes lit up with recognition when they saw us.

Alpha Randall, Beta Santiago, Pyotr greeted.

Report, I answered.

Pyotr glanced at Rascal before continuing, It is not good, Alpha. We have spotted no less than thirty wolves coming this way.

Thirty? You are afraid of thirty wolves? I taught you better than that, Pyotr.

That's not it, Alpha.

What is it, then?

Pyotr hesitated for a moment, but then he bundled up the courage to speak again. The wolves were with some kind of strange creature.

Strange creature? I turned my eyes to Rascal, then back to Pyotr. What are you talking about?

Even through the mind link, fear was evident in the young scout's tone. There was this huge, shadowed mass leading the wolves. It was so dark that even my wolf vision could not see it properly.

Juan interjected, Is it true, Rascal?

Aye, Beta. The thing that leads the wolves is almost as big as an elephant. 'Twas... 'Twas dark and ambiguous.

Such nonsense, I scoffed. Your minds are playing tricks with you. Who else is in your team for this night's watch?

Morgan and Helen, Sir.

Where are they? I asked, but before any of the scouts could answer, a piercing wail echoed through the mind link.

Alpha! Beta! Anyone? cried the voice. I recognized it as Helen's. Help!

My fur stood on end, my heartbeat quickening. A low growl worked my throat. Helen, it's me, I told her. What is going on? Where are you?

E-east of the border. I could just feel the terror through Helen's link. Alpha Randall! It's... it's M-Morgan. He's... He's...

At the mention of the other scout's name, I tried feeling for him through the pack's link. There was nothing. Calm down, Helen. Tell me what happened. Where is Morgan?

There was a long silence. My Beta and I shared glances, and after what seemed like a good few minutes, the distressed wolf's voice resounded through the link again.

He's dead, Alpha, Helen's tone quaked, as though she was crying. Morgan's dead. That strange thing killed him.