Sixfold Adventures: A Collection of One-Shots

Werewolf!Brothers and Reader

Inspired by cozycornerofmadness's prompt.

(I will use terms that reflect the wolf pack hierarchal structure. They do not reflect the ABO-verse terms.)

Alpha: A dominant wolf or pair of wolves that leads the pack, the first to feed from any kill the pack makes.
Beta: A middle rank wolf or pair of wolves that command the others within the same rank or lower, considered the second-in-command and most likely to replace the current alpha.
Omega: A wolf that plays the role of scapegoat and acts as the 'social glue' to keep the pack together, regardless if this is accomplished through play or comfort. They are usually the last wolf that's allowed to feed.

His breath wisped between his tense maw, quietly whistling with every exhale as his eyes swept across the vast field where his pack had played, had hunted, had lain for the season.

What once was pure and white with snow was now stained with red and brown, fur and viscera scattered across the hills as echoes of screams rang in his wolfish ears.

Slowly crouching from the standing position, he began sifting through the thick scents of terror and anguish from his pack, the joyous revelry of the humans that struck with little warning. The scent trails began forming an image in his mind of the slaughter: pups and wolves alike fleeing from the hunters that had come upon the gathering by chance, his beta directing the lower-ranked wolves to safety while his mate remained steadfast to ensure that the hunters could not follow, the pack omega fleeing last as his file demanded.

The single wolf pushed through the scents of hunters killing off many of his pack to find the two trails he was desperate for, his heart aching to find their bodies and give them the farewell they deserved.

A whimper fell from his lips like a gasp, his wolfish nose digging into the bloodied snow that had been kicked up when the pursuers gave chase after the tattered remains of the pack, his claws gently raking off the stray snowflakes that fell through the night sky.

His heart grieved, his baying howl echoed far in the distance by five others in response.

His mate lay slain, her form bearing wounds that could only come from human weapons and human hands. Her chest lay bare to the night sky, a bloodied cavern exposing her ribcage and lungs that revealed that the monsters had stolen her heart as a war prize. Her ruined hair and blood-soaked silhouette only highlighted the mutilation of the alpha female lupine.

The wolf's furred fingers trailed softly down her face, closing her staring eyes, carefully bringing her into his arms as he stood on his rear legs, releasing another baleful howl in earnest. Carefully walking towards a tree reaching skyward at the edge of the field, his heart wrenched in sorrow as all hope of finding his family alive faded like snow near a fire.

The pup -- his only offspring -- lay beheaded and missing his wolfish ears and tail just like his mother.

The wolf-man stood tall on his hind legs, his furred hands and forearms now coated with dirt, as he looked down at his mate and pup now gently positioned within the grave he had scratched out. One more caress of her cheek, one more lick of the pup's forehead, before he buried them. With them, he buried his empathy.

He had given the hunter too many chances to strike up a peace accord, too many disrupted hunts that were brushed off because the wolf-man knew his pack couldn't fight off the hunter and his humans.