Prove it, Alpha

Two

Eve Hoall

She sat next to the 'visitors' as her pack, led by Kinny, prepared for a hunt. The pregnant females stayed at the House with their alpha and the pack's prisoners. Somewhere inside of the house was Zane, who was watching the criminal the Southerners had come to apprehend. It was not unusual for Zane to remain behind during a hunt. In fact, he had not been on one since around his first decade, the last one in which his father had been alive. 

The black-haired male whined at her side. 

"You know the rules," she said, stoic. "No one goes on a hunt but the pack." A troubling thought suddenly occurred to her. "Are there no hunts in the South?" 

"There are," the male responded, eyes still focused on the pack. "But there is no snow, and the prey is different. It's not the same as it is here, and it is certainly less frequent." 

Hoall watched her wolves as they transformed from their human form to their wolf form. The forest was then alight with the sounds of stretching skin and cracking bones, of dripping saliva and excited yips. Kinny was the light tan wolf in front. His mate was by his side. Much smaller, much sleeker, with a coat almost as dark as the bark on the trees. It was a stark contrast to the light colors of the rest of the pack. 

The pack wolves were restless, pacing back and forth, moving then laying down. Sitting--sitting down, then getting back up to pace again. They brushed sides with each other to socialize, and sniffed and snapped as they chatted among themselves, but they were all getting anxious for the hunt to officially begin. Their tongues slipped out of their mouths as they fixed their gazes on the beta, muscles tense as they prepared for him to give the signal to start.

Hoall studied each of the specimen in front of her, committing them to her memory so that she wouldn't forget any in the next six months. The wolves were creatures of beauty. Like their beasts, their legs were long and thick--filled with muscle to help them power through the snow. Their bodies were stocky, and their thick coats of fur only made them look larger. Their ears were small and rounded, their snouts blunt. Their teeth sharp, their bloodlust all-consuming. Their ferocity feared by all. And that was just how they liked it. It made the chase so much more fun.

Kinny's howl signaled the start of the hunt, and off they went. They would return when they had brought down prey large enough to feed at least the pregnant women, children, and their alpha. Of course, they could always bring down more than one prey, though that was unlikely. It was the dead of winter, and the herds had thinned out due to the harsh conditions. It would be harder than usual to succeed in the hunt. 

The sounds of their paws crunching through the layers of ice and snow gradually quieted, and Hoall was left with only her thoughts and the scent of her mate.

She had a mate.

The realization left her chilled.

Memories of her father filtered through her mind.  He had been a cold man from the start, ideal for a Northern male, but far from what was expected from a mate and father. His white-blonde hair had been long and neatly braided in every single one of her memories, and his eyes had never held an ounce of warmth unless they had been looking at Zane. She did not understand why until years later. His cruelty and temper had been legendary, and his strength unmatched. None in his pack had dared to challenge him for his title as alpha. None had dared to speak up against his treatment of his children. As they died from the cold and neglect, he had only watched on, sneering. 

"Only the strong are meant to survive," he had said at each of her siblings' funerals. They had all looked like Hoall--curly coal black hair, glass green eyes, skin as pale as the snow around them.