(This Allegory of) Mine; larry stylinson ABO [bottom!Louis alpha!Harry]

1

It was a simple day. "Today, we hunt!"

The forest erupts in deep cheers and claps, and the sounds surrounding the pack Alpha. His green eyes gaze around the group of wolves as some begin to change. Each of their individual eye colours morphs into gold, and clothes ripping as they transform into vicious and bloodthirsty animals.

"You either bring something back twice your size," Harry's words are clear and loud, his voice cutting through the forest, "or you and another bring something back thrice your size," Harry speaks loud and clear. "There is no room for failure!" He booms, leaving no room for disappointment. With that, even more people begin cheering. The pack hasn't hunted for weeks. All choosing to eat their homegrown veggies or just normal grocery shopping instead of the old fashioned, raw way of feeding a pack.

Harry's pack was well-known, and the strongest in the Northern hemisphere. After Harry's father had died, he was already nearly complete his training for pack Alpha. It was all the pressure and responsibility of a pack, being appointed to an eighteen-year-old. In the span of eight years, Harry managed to bring his pack to the top. 

As the pack Alpha's hand rose, all cheering and shouting halted.

It was different from other packs, their silence was not fear—it was respect. All eyes are on the Alpha. The packs' heads bow when Harry began transforming himself.

From man to beast—Harry's hair began growing down his spine as his clothing rips before everyone's eyes. The Alpha's hands grow large claws and his legs bend inwards until his knees hit the dirt ground. The muscles in body growing tougher than any wolf around him. His fur as dark as the abyss of the night and his eyes were ones that will give one nightmares with the ability to haunt anyone in their sleep.

From deep emerald green to the polar opposite; a raging red that can make any animal shiver. The Alpha's eyes hold a blazing fire; just looking into them made one's heart rate pick up. His wolf stood at almost three meters tall, larger and stronger than his own father and ancestors. Across his body was his fair share of scars; each telling a different story—most from when he was inexperienced and weak. He will never let anyone see him like he was years ago.

Harry roars threateningly, revealing his terrifying canines that have torn through more flesh than a wild lion. He receives howls in reply and then he was the first off. His legs bring him further than anyone in his pack. With his Alpha abilities and genes from his bloodline, his senses were stronger—he can smell almost everything for miles. Every animal, every flower, everything. Though, a single scent made every other one seem boring and dull in contrast. It was indescribable causing Harry's inner wolf crawling it's way out with a need to find the source of the scent. Blinded with impulse, the pitch black wolf follows the trail of the scent. Every step brings the Alpha closer and closer, the intoxicating smell unhinging his wild wolf.

The Alpha felt so close to the smell that he fought a personal war with his inner wolf who wanted nothing but to jump on the person creating it and claim them.

Coming to a cloud that seemed to suffocate the Alpha, Harry hid behind a wide tree stump. His red-eye, watching from afar where a small curvy boy was sitting. His tan skin gleaming in the white sunlight, his hair styled in a delicate fringe and his eyes an ocean blue. The boy was sitting by a tree leaning on the stump with a baby blue backpack on the ground by his feet that tapped in rhythm—and from what Harry could hear, there was a soft piano melody playing in the boy's headphones. From what Harry can see, the boy was fiddling with something in his hands which Harry couldn't identify with the small bush separating the two.

The Alpha quickly retreats back behind the large tree when the unknown boy looks up. Harry takes a deep breath, his senses going into overdrive with the scent. He attempts to calm himself as he watches from the side of the tree when the boy grins and lifts what he was fiddling with. He made a flower crown. It consists of simple daisies and green grass stems. Harry almost steps out from behind the tree to get a better look but the boy slips the crown into his bag. The boy takes out his headphones and gets up from the dirt ground while dusting off his pants.

Just as Harry takes one small step backward—he steps on a twig. The snap had the small boy's head shoot up.

Harry was not a flight rather than fight but at the moment, with the boy's scent over his thoughts, Harry didn't know right from wrong. And so, Harry takes off running in the opposite direction. His paws leave prints in the dirt in his wake as he forces himself to run faster and further away from the boy.

Harry takes out his intense emotions of confusion and regret on two bears and meets his pack back at the village.

But the question that was never asked remains answered; who was the boy making the flower crown?