Making The Alpha Submit (BL)

3: WINTER DATE

October 7th, xxxx

THE WOLF LOOKS SICK, thinks Kamil as he squats, stroking her back while trying to corral her litter with the other hand. The doc assured them that both mother and children are safe and healthy but it's been more than ten days since the birth and Dragontooth the Second has barely moved from the same spot.

And because of this, the wolves in the cage have barely been active opting to instead surround their alpha during her time, supporting her and looking after her cubs when she's unable to.

Her mate, Wandering Rosewater whined his snout in her throat, licking her, sniffing her, worried face drooping when she returns the gesture wanly, sad eyes struggling to open.

As he heralds the five big wolves out their gigantic pen, he makes a mental note to drop by the clinic and have a long chat with the doc and if possible, drag her butt to heal their Dragontooth the Second.

He hesitates, wishing to leave open the cage in case she has it in her to take a stroll but there is the danger of the cubs roaming around free, possibly hurting themselves. He wouldn't want to worry the new mother or make her distrust him.

Leaving her with one final rub, he locks the pen and waits until all five wolves have finished saying their goodbyes as if asking for permission-no, understanding before running rampant, glad to be out of that stuffy pen smelling like their alpha's depression.

Keeping a keen eye on the wolves leaping ahead-not too far, they know not to stray-a smile fixes on his face coming across the children-some children are actually teenagers-dashing as they prepare for school, calling out his rank, waving at him-pausing the frenzy for a minute to snuggle, scratch and bury their noses in the furs of the wolves, the wolves in turn jumping about them, making satisfied noises, bathing them in saliva while he waits patiently, cool air on his face, bright eyes breathing in his surroundings; at the ground carpeted in falling yellow, brown and purple leaves, the sky overcast in the brightest shade of blue and white he'd ever seen.

Every morning is like this. He wakes up as early as possible for his early morning jug; just him and the dark blue sky and the stars and the moon, heart beating a thorough thump, bethump, thump in his chest to show him that he is alive appreciating the beauty, the simplicity of his life surrounded by a Pack that accepts him as he is.

He ends the jog by taking a relaxing float in the river east of them feeling the cold water on his skin, in his ear, tracing the deep bulging scar circling his waist. He's usually out of bed a little over five but today for some reason he woke up earlier than that, a strange recollection nagging at him.

Instead of getting up, he just stays there listening to the snores of his roommates bunking below him, next door, doors down. His roommates used to complain about the absurdity of him sharing a room with them; as someone of higher rank, a single house can be provided for him at the drop of a hat but he feels grounded surrounded by noise, by life.

He tried it before when the practice was foisted on him the week he became major but he couldn't sleep. He never thought a house could be so silent, so eerie just him and the sounds of his heartbeats. It had been so quiet he started allowing the dog to sleep indoors but that hadn't cured the dilemma.

And lack of sleep caused irritability-yeah, he started a few fights-and then everyone was on his ass on why he hadn't just refused, someone else would use the house, no skin off their backs. Like they would've refused when the Alpha suggested it.

But that was eighteen months ago. His comrades jokes that they'll leave him first when they have their mates-Goddess willing-and it'd be just him and the dog but with how rambunctiously horny those idiots are, Kamil doubted there'll be mates in their future anytime soon.