Fang

Herek

Fresh corpses littered the ground down below. The sun beamed down on them, glinting off of the blood stained grass. I knew I was being watched, so I kept my face as stoic as I could manage. I had to appear as impassive.

Make them intrigued. Interested enough to talk to me.

GrassTail wolves lingered about, gloating over their victory. Some eyes flashed up occasionally to where I sat on the hill. I could practically taste the curiosity, but the smell of death was stronger.

"Lennet," a male voice called, using my fake name. I knew immediately who it was, a strong sinking feeling appearing in my stomach. Mante.

Squinting my eyes against the sun, I angle my body to peer at Mante. The zeta in training was easy on the eyes, chiseled muscle on display. His brown hair was ruffled, patches of facial hair beginning to grow. I wanted to turn my lip up in disgust, but instead I gave him a smile.

There isn't a single scratch on him, which tells me more than I need to know.

Mante returns my smile in a full blown grin, subtly trying to puff his chest out. "Mante," I greet him, his last name rolling off of my tongue. Mante comes closer, bringing the smell of battle with him. "I see that you've won." A smirk forms on my lips, knowing that all I'm doing is patting his ego on the back.

He only laughs, not needing to confirm or deny what I'd said. Without my offering, he seats himself next to me, close enough for our arms to brush against each other. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face before they lower, taking in my full appearance.

I don't need to look at him to know the pride he is feeling. He believes he's won over the mysterious visitor. Unfortunately for him, my wolf is very far from interested.

My eyes snag on some females down below, huddled off to the side, whispering amongst each other. Apparently, I was not the only female to come and watch this show of dominance. I couldn't help but pity the BlueRock wolves.

They'd deserved their death, no doubt, for attacking a stronger pack than them. I pitied their fallen. Their bodies wouldn't be retrieved, nor sent to the Moon.

At least GrassTail's new alpha would be feeling more welcome, a fresh victory under his belt. As it was, he was barely holding the ropes for this pack with the tips of his claws.

At last, my attention comes back to Mante. He might as well be drooling with the way he's looking at me. The sudden urge to snarl at him comes to mind, but I suppress it. "Shouldn't you be down there with them, Mante?" I lift a brow at him. "Gloating in your great victory?"

I lean myself back onto a propped elbow, exposing my upper half to sunlight. A strand of my hair is caught in the wind, touching Mante's cheek. I watch as the muscle in his jaw tightens, pupils dilating before returning to normal.

"You're right," he agrees. "You should come with me. It's time you get more comfortable with GrassTail." His eyes are on the wisp of hair, still floating in the breeze. My mind freezes for a moment, fighting to keep my mask on. I don't like the implication in what he'd said.

"Alright," I give in to him, knowing that I shouldn't. Mante was too attached to me, more than what I was used to. He'd be crushed when I inevitably left.

The grin returns to his face, making him appear almost boyish. If I wasn't here to spy on GrassTail, I could imagine myself coming to like him. He's on his feet right away, extending a hand down to me. After a moment, I take his hand, accepting his help.

Mante leads me to the gathered wolves below, their heads turning at our appearance. It doesn't escape my eyes the way their attention flickers between us, noting the closeness between our bodies.