Prove it, Alpha

Three

Brutus Nightshade

The baser nature inside of Nightshade, that which urged him to survive, forced the male to shy away, lowering his head and whimpering as he did so. While Nightshade himself had a swell of dominance inside of him, it was not nearly so thick, so overpowering as that of the female behind him. 

He almost felt sorry for the criminal chained to the alpha. The lowlife was obviously Southern, and though his wolf form was faring better against the elements than his human skin could, he was no Northerner. With every new growl, the criminal froze, automatically moving far away from the most likely threat in the area. She snapped at him, snarling at him for delaying their journey, and he reluctantly moved closer to her, continuing the path down the mountain. 

The alpha had admitted that she had never been so far from her pack, and so Nightshade had been forced to be the one to lead, to set the pace. The beast behind him showed her insecurity constantly, growling and snarling at invisible foes, snapping at previously unknown scents and textures in the world around her. Nightshade understood. He had once been in the female's position--more or less. He had gone from being a true-blood Northerner, a feared and fierce warrior...to being what he was now. Weak. Soft. Bonded. Happy. 

He knew what it was like, taking this first trip down the mountain, further and further from the Goddess. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Being part of a Pack guaranteed acceptance, consistency. Leaving a Pack was no small matter, even if it meant walking towards a Mate, a perfect half. And, from what he had gleaned from his experiences in the BloodSnow Pack, leaving for the female alpha was a matter of even greater importance than he could have imagined. 

Before the trio had left the BloodSnow Pack, the beta and the alpha's brother had told him to keep an eye on the female, to be her pack while she was away from them. No small favor. In fact, it was a great honor to be part of another wolf's pack. The two males had not been joking. Nightshade knew better than to ask why she might need a pack in the South. Obviously, something was a danger to her. And obviously, only a packmate could protect her. What exactly could be a threat to such a menacing wolf--Nightshade had no idea. He only knew that the beta and the alpha's brother had made him swear to become her packmate--to protect her. And he intended on keeping his promise. 

He would bring it up with her soon--after the female became too warm to stay comfortable in her hulking beast form. As it was, talking to her  would have been suicide. The smallest startle would set her off, and with her being so much larger, heavier, stronger than him, he would have been crushed in an instant, even by accident.

Her large body was the perfect machine for life high up in the mountain, where the extra fur and muscle and body mass would give her the necessary body heat to survive. The further South they all traveled, however, it would become increasingly clear just how cumbersome those features could be when in the wrong environment. The shift in temperature was leaving the alpha obviously uncomfortable. She was not growling so steadily anymore. Neither was she moving as steadily and assuredly as before. The added oxygen in the air was a shock to her system, just as the increasing temperature was. She was silent, panting, tiring. Not for one second did Nightshade think that this was the alpha at her weakest. On the contrary--he knew that her guard was probably higher than it had been thus far on their short sojourn. One word to displease her, and he wouldn't even have the time to think goodbye before she ripped his throat out. 

The one thing which had not left him after his move to the South had been the survival instinct. So, silent he remained, moving quickly, as the feared female alpha followed closely at his heels, occasionally nipping at him to move faster. 

Hours longer they trekked. Somewhere close to the base of the mountain, the alpha had been forced to shift into a wolf, finding the heat of the beast form too much to take. Even still, the female panted heavily, and her large pink tongue flopped from side to side. She terrified him. He was sure she knew. Any sane wolf would have the same reaction. Nightshade himself was no small wolf. He was a pure-bred Northerner--bulky, tall, solid--in all three forms. The alpha was different. Her human skin looked like she would have trouble standing tall in a gentle breeze. Her limbs were thin and sickly pale from lack of exposure to the sun. Her hair was tangled, her movements awkward as a newborn fawn. In all honesty, her human form was no beauty. The most striking thing about her was her shocking stature. Nightshade had never seen a mature female adult so short. He chalked it up to an uneven distribution of resources. With a human form that unimpressive and weak, the wolf and beast had extra resources to use as their own. And oh, did they use each ounce of energy to the fullest. Her wolf and the beast were nothing short of monsters.