The Otherkin Chronicles ¦ Book 1: Lycan

II: Greetings and Schemings

August 31, 1773

The two wifwolves led Hooklaw to a secluded area in the forest, one that he would never have found on his own as a human without getting lost. As he took in the scene, he noticed a small cave in a hillside - no, not a cave...a den! - hidden beneath low-growing brush that would hide it from human eyes that would see only darker shadows amidst the dark shadows beneath the boughs of the forest. Around the den were several smaller shelters made beneath the twisted roots of the trees, dug until they reached the bedrock and likewise hidden away. And off to the left, just beyond the den, there seemed to be remains of a...campfire? Huh?

Standing in the center of the clearing, Theaswif howled, calling forth the pack that Hooklaw was to lead: "Come, my brethren! The prophecy has come into passing, and a new Alpha has arisen from the ashes of Thranthrope's grave!" Turning to him, she said, "I am Theaswif, the healer and oracle of this pack."

Rustle.

The brush concealing the hollow beneath one of the trees trembled and then...spoke? "Elder Alpha Thea, ve just vent on a hunt, and thou vakes us up just to exchange pleasantries? Let me sleep off zis food belly for once!" Apparently, the voice had a German accent.

No, there's someone inside those bushes... It was faint, but amidst the dark shadows, Hooklaw saw a pair of icy-blue eyes glaring suspiciously at him, cold and angry. Nice werewolf... he thought to himself, hoping he - for the voice was undoubtedly male - would not attack.

Hooklaw heard a sniffing sound come from another bush, where he could see a grizzled gray face that bore only streaks of its brown-furred prime gazing out at him from the safety of its shelter. "Heh, he looks like he's fresh blood, but he smells of Thranthrope; he's got the ol' Alpha's scent all over his body. Ya sure Thranthrope didn' find that Fountain of Youth th' humans 'ave been talkin' 'bout?"

Theaswif - Elder Alpha Theaswif - pawed the bridge of her muzzle in frustration. "Nachthur! Fangones! Thou art not making Hooklaw feel welcomed! Even the pups know better than thee how to do so!"

Pups...? he thought, before a worse thought came through his head, "Am I...going to have to mate with her?! She seems old enough to be my mother!"

"Thou said that out loud, Hooklaw," accused a small voice. Looking down toward his feet, he saw a trio of yearlings; the pups, who seemed to have recently been weaned, were gathered in a crescent around him, Sworfitch, and Theaswif, who seemed to be... blushing?

"That's not quite how it works, Hooklaw. When a new Alpha is chosen, he chooses the Alpha female, Beta, and Omega. As it is, these three are the only pups I was able to bear as Thranthrope's mate before the last of my heat burned off. They are about six years old," Theaswif explained, stealing a quick glance at Sworfitch, whose gaze was downcast, her right foreleg crossing her left as it rubbed up and down around her elbow.

"Ah," he huffed, understanding sinking in. Something had happened to Sworfitch six years ago that had made her feel uneasy, which she tried to hide beneath a facade of toughness that often fell away. Did Thranthrope bite her, and then..? Strangely, he felt an attraction toward Sworfitch, as though he wanted her facade to thicken until it represented the strong wifwolf he knew she could be, no matter how difficult the path. Is this...love? I feel like I've known her for years, but that's impossible...right?

A low snarl sounded as a black shadow approached, the icy-blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Hooklaw, hmm? I know another Hooke, and his first name's Sean; his middle name is Lycanculler. I vill not let you destroy this pack as your comrades have the others, Sean Hooke!" The snarl increased in intensity as Nachthur pounced on him, his white canines flashing as he struck for his throat.