Forever Yours

PROLOGUE

Outside the old Ford pick-up truck, the scenery of Snowy Peaks Region, now preparing itself for winter, flashed past in a blur of orange leaves, dead grass and wilting flowers. Day was beginning to make way for night, the sun slowly sinking itself below the horizon. The narrow road which snaked its way through the mountains inclined further, making the old truck strain and the driver drop it down into a lower gear. On this side of the mountain and down below, the river was a glittering blue serpent weaving its way through the scenery. The driver smiled as fond memories created by its rocky banks filled his mind; charging through its shallows in his wolf form, flyfishing with his father during the rare spare time he'd had and hunting with his two brothers in the forests which stretched beyond. At least as far as the guard boundary their mother imposed had allowed them.

The scenery outside which was bathed in the warm glow of a sunset was deceiving though. Despite it being only the beginning of autumn summer, a biting chill native to the depths of winter flowed through the truck's vents as it climbed higher around the mountain. Now unaccustomed to the cold climate, the driver reached forward, and after a few jiggles of the dials, warm air was blasting through the cab. The only problem being that it made the truck slow even further.

'Come on, old girl.' The driver patted the worn dashboard in a bid of encouragement. 'Don't let me down now.'

As if sensing his support, the truck gave a low rumble as it dug up as much power as it could to continue surging up the mountain. He'd had the truck just over a decade, after stumbling upon it parked in front of a gas station with a for sale sign in the window. The seats had been worn, the engine had needed a good service and the white and blue paintwork was faded in most parts or rusted through in others. It hadn't bothered him though, he hadn't been planning on being away long and it would get him through a short undercover stint. If he'd known he'd get tangled up in the world of blood wolves for thirteen years though then he would've splurged on something more luxurious and comfortable. Like a 1969 Dodge Charger – his dream car since a teenager. His mother's worst nightmare.

The driver let out a nervous breath and felt his palms begin to sweat around the steering wheel. Maybe he'd prefer for the old truck to break down – to give him an excuse not to go home, back to the place he'd ran away from many years ago to create a life for himself which hadn't already been made for him. No, he had to go back. He was no longer a young prince needing to escape the pressures of royal life. He no longer had to work as an undercover rogue – or blood wolf – to keep the werewolf community, especially his daughters, safe. It was time for him to make amends, to stop running away from the ghosts of his past.

The forestry of the mountain suddenly became thicker. The bitumen road changed into a gravel track. The oxygen became thinner. If it hadn't been his home for so many years, he would've missed the narrow track which forked off the gravel road, hidden by hanging branches. It was only after one hundred metres of driving the forestry began to lean away from the truck, allowing the road to widen. Ahead was a set of large golden gates in the middle of a tall stone wall covered in creeping vines. Common werewolves spoke of them as the gates to Heaven whilst he'd always seen them as gates to Hell.

The man's wolf growled with tension, waiting, as the truck crawled down the narrow track. It was a shadow moving in the think cover of trees that alerted him to their presence. Sharp focused eyes glowed, before the outline of wolves emerged from the thick coverage. Their teeth were bared, their shoulders rolling as they prowled around the truck. Soon enough the truck was rocking as their large bodies jostled against it, their hot breaths fogging the windows and emitting warning snarls. Like he was a boat in a pissed off sea of teeth and fur. Some of them had warriors on their backs, kitted out in black armour and a crossbow cocked with silver-tipped arrows. The silhouettes of crossbowman moved about the watchtowers camouflaged by foliage. The man could see their crossbows perched on the balconies of the platforms, the slightest hint of silver glimmering. They had the task of ending a werewolf's life with a split second as soon as their fingers released the taut string. Humans who miraculously discovered the territory... they were a different story.