Mate to the Mated

Evergreen

Snow fell through the gaps in the old evergreens, building a soft blanket on top of the fallen pines that covered the frozen ground. It's white haze gave everything about the large forest an ethereal glow. Every stroke of color stood out against the blank canvas.

He stood out the most.

Black fur so rich it absorbed every shred of light reflected upon his large body. Even as he was very obviously relaxed, rolling around in the fresh snow with two small pups, he radiated power.

I knew he could sense me, and I was somewhat offended that he hadn't deemed me threatening enough to even pause in the games with the two young wolves.

I continued to watch him through a small gap in the shrubs, pretending that I was invisible in order to indulge myself in a glimpse of a life that would never be mine. Pretending that one day this same scene could play out with my own handsome male wolf. What I would give to have such a simple destiny.

Many she-wolves take what they have for granted. They whine and complain in blog posts about the simplicity of their roles in pack life, they fight to be able to stand on the front lines of rivalries and to contribute more than just their words of guidance. At the risk of sounding like a misogynistic bitch, I wish they would realize just how lovely it is to have the goddess craft them a soul mate who cares for them and places them into a society that cherishes them for their very existence.

All a bitch has to do is get pregnant and she's worshipped and written down into a book of fame. They rule from behind the protective bodies of their mates, starting wars and building empires without so much as lifting a paw.

Some of us will never have such a luxury.

Packs are created by males. The goddess gave them the power to mark physical territory and establish links between wolves without blood relation. Females get the responsibility of making sure the pack doesn't die out. Males are either born into packs, or accepted into a pack through a treaty with a pack Alpha. Females can be born into packs, but they are only once they are mated do they become a member of their mates pack. Completely unfair, in my eyes, but I suppose I'm bias.

My parents didn't carefully consider the laws of our world when they conceived me. I suppose the cocaine probably had something to do with it.

My mother is nothing more than a human. A human with a love for things dark and supernatural, but still human. She was nineteen when she met my father at some underground goth club. Very vampy, very edgy, and no doubt she looked the part.

She doesn't remember much from the night I was conceived, but she has told me the story of when she found out that I wasn't human over a million times. She thinks it boosts her credibility as a witch, and I can't argue, her little occult store has been flourishing.

I think it's pretty obvious when I say that I've never met the man who made me. I can only curse the name Richard for being dumb enough to spawn with a human.

Half breeds don't exist, wolf genetics trump the human ones almost every time and the baby is born just like any other pup. The moon goddess, however, isn't as kind as my genetics.

Because my mother and father were not a mated pair, my soul was not designed to be paired perfectly with another wolf like other pups. But that doesn't mean I don't have a mate. No, the goddess does something crueler.

I have what all of the texts call a split-mating; where a wolf must have two partners in order to be complete. Nothing specifies whether one of those partners can be female, and the whole phenomenon is looked upon as a curse.

I heard some wolves can spend most of their lives searching for one mate, how am I supposed to find two?

I shook my head and huffed, my white fur blending with the snow it sent flying everywhere with my movements.