Dear Alpha,

Moira, and Mark.
Even their names fit with each other.
They used to be the best of friends.

----

Moira sat in the little room that she had gotten in the rundown motel and sighed. She ran a hand through her hair.

"Now, for the letter..."

She took out a pencil and a notepad. Missing him hurt. She still couldn't accept what he had done, but she also couldn't help but miss, and love him.

Stupid mate-bond.

She thought to herself and put the tip of the pencil between her teeth, thinking of what to write on the stained notepad paper. A need for caution took priority. She needed to be careful less he found out where she was. The sounds of pencil shavings falling from the sharpener soothed her busy mind. She pressed the tip down and began to write, "Dear Alpha,"

----

Harbours-town, on the surface, seems just like any other town. It's rather small; has a few farms around it that help sustain its inhabitants of their needs, a few stores and the lack of anything eye-catching -- yet, it does hold a certain secret. A secret that most of its citizens don't even know about.

Harbours-town houses one of the mightiest werewolf packs in the whole of the United States. Funny to think, huh? Every fall, under those golden and withered leaves, human children could have been enjoying the season with a werewolf's pup. Few other packs even knew of them -- and that's how they liked it. They didn't want rogues and other unwanted menaces challenging them to their territory or even dominance with pack wars.

In werewolf beliefs, it's an extremely good sign to find your mate at an early age. It supposedly makes the wolf's life easier; puts it at ease.

In the instance of Moira Leslie-Anne Jacobs and Mark Dean, it's strongly proven wrong...

After 'The Incident', the two are separated for their own good, but against Mark's wishes.

Let's just say;
When heartbreak's towards your left, death is towards your right and a pissed of Alpha-male is at your back?

You run.