When the Wolves Come Home

Chapter One

Present times.....

Along the highway I ran, hidden in the camouflage the foliage provided. I weaved in an out, trying to confuse the predator hot on my trail.

The wind stung my eyes, blowing my scent back to the animal behind me. Unfortunately the wind was not on my side, I couldn't quite catch the scent of the beast pursuing me.

Whoever it was, hardly made any noise. And if I were any less experienced I probably would have succumbed to its hardy pace. I'd long ago left Yellowstone, for I had no place among my brethren. Not when I was far superior to their strengths.

But whoever gave chase behind me was giving me a run for my money. My heart beat heavy in my chest and my breath started coming in ragged pants. You know that feeling when you work out excessively and your muscles feel weak as a kitten? That's how my legs began to feel.

We ran for what seemed like forever. Predator chasing predator.

I peaked over my shoulder to see a black wolf, bigger then my own self and I considered myself a big wolf, following on my trail.

My first mistake was looking behind me. And my second was not turning my head back fast enough. My paw lodged under a tree root that had partially grown above the ground. As I tripped the sturdy root put pressure on bone and I head a snap.

The pain was white hot but nothing I hadn't experienced before. I got to my feet, favoring my front left paw. Facing the peruser, I snarled and braced for impact. But impact never happened. The black wolf, which I could scent was very male. Had dropped down into a slow lope until he stood about 10 feet in front of me.

He snarled a warning, his hackles raised when I snarled back just as threatening. His gaze seemed to growl and say submit. His scent was unlike anything I'd smelled before. It was similar to my own but not quite the same. He held a Wolfy scent but wasn't all quite wolf.

My challenger stepped forward and the hair rose down my spine. When I didn't submit it seemed he became even more ticked off. The other wolf bared his fangs and then lifted his head to howl. In the distance I heard answering howls which I assumed was pack.

The black wolf lunged towards me and I began to fight back. He didn't lunge straight for my throat, instead he went for my injured leg. If I could have shifted, the change would have brought on the healing process. I shifted my body out of the way, his teeth just barely nipped my broken leg but it was enough to have my pain receptors off the charts.

As he went for my leg I had an opening, I bit down on his ear, it wasn't a vital spot but it would be unpleasant to try and heal. He snarled rabidly and tore himself from my grasp, leaving his ear bloody and torn.

The wolf used his size to bully my back against an old oak and when I was cornered he used his strength to knock me over. If my front limb wasn't so managed I could have moved quicker and got out of the way, but I couldn't push off with my feet so he got his teeth around my throat.

I howled in fury but he cut it off halfway with pressure on my windpipe. Using my back paws I tried to scratch his underbelly but it was of no use. His bulk had me pinned to the ground. He flexed his jaws against the tender flesh and fur on my neck, taunting me to do something so he could tear my throat out.

I scented others that smelled similar to him and soon I spotted them as well. Most came in wolf form but one scrawny man who looked to be near his 30's approached.

"Shift, feral." He didn't speak with authority but the others seemed to gather around him for his protection. I automatically knew what he was. An omega. A precious loved wolf of the pack. Who never fought with others. They were the lowest on the totem pole but the most special. A lot of wolves fought over rank but omegas did not.