Smoke and Pine

Our Beginning

We were born under a blue moon, on October 31st. The first of our "kind" in the werewolf community. We were Triplets. Triplets have never been documented amongst werewolves. A singular pup was normal, and twins were rare, but triplets was simply unheard of. When the pack was made aware of our mother's condition by the Alpha, our father, they howled in delight. 

Several months into her pregnancy, she was told by the pack doctor she might not survive labor. She was a petite human compared to her wolf's form, and to give birth to not one or two, but to three pups, there could be too much bleeding. C-sections were still an option, but she was told the cons of a C-section were possibly losing one of her pups and she refused. Fortunately against the odds, she gave birth to three healthy pups. Two girls, Eris and Esha, and one boy, Kalen.

We were raised on the pack lands in Northern Alaska, nowhere near human civilization. Our pack being the 4th largest pack in the world, so we owned a majority of private land. We only lived there until we were 4 years of age, before tragedy struck. Our mother had taken us to the park when a strange woman we had never seen before came out of nowhere and tried to snatch us up. It is and will always be my most haunting memory. My sister Esha had been injected with a small amount of wolfsbane, which pushed her into a comatose like state. Unable to help herself, my mother tried her best to jump into action. I watched her spring up from the bench with incredible speed I had never seen her display before, but unfortunately that's where our lives derailed. The woman pulled a gun on our mother and shot her. Judging by her screams the bullets were dipped in wolfsbane, and paired with a gunshot wound, it was fatal. She screamed at my brother and I to run and to help our sister, to get our father.

We ran as fast as our feet would carry us, while tripping over ourselves multiple times, but time was not on our side. Once we reached the pack house, our home, we were out of breath, our hands and knees dripping blood on the white tile. We found our father in his office, on the floor in miserable pain. Trying to tell him what happened through ragged breaths he shot up as fast as his aching body would allow him and shifted to run to his mate. Our mother. He had gotten there long before we did and to our horror, our mother was dead and our sister was missing. Our father laid beside our mother, sobbing into her still chest. 

The day had gone by in a horrendous blur. And now the days come and go until after the funeral. No one was ever able to find our sister, and after months of searching, all hope had been lost. My father had given the title of Alpha over to his brother, our uncle Jase, until my brother and I were ready to return, if ever. But he would never come back. Not to the place he lost his mate and one of his children. He vowed to live on that day for us. The very next day we had moved to Palm Springs, California, where he would never have to feel his empty mate bond ever again.

Once what was a mated couple was now just one grieving broken wolf.

Once what was triplets were now just twins.

Once what was a happy family of five, was now a grieving family of three.