The Alpha’s Blood

Ren… no, Korr was hunting with his pack.

The snow whispered under their paws. The forest was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of their breath and the faint crackle of frost in the branches above. The moon hung like a pale, perfect coin in the sky, silvering the world as the wolves ran.

Korr’s nose caught the scent first. Not deer. Not hare. Something warmer. Sharper.

Human.

He slowed, breath smoking in the frigid air.

A shadow glided up beside him. Rathar, the massive alpha. His lips curled back over his fangs in a soundless snarl. His golden eyes locked with Korr’s.

Two legs.

Korr’s ears flicked back. In all his nights with the pack, they had hunted deer, elk, boar, even bear. Never humans.

The smell grew stronger. Beneath the cold and pine was a trembling note of fear, the scent of sweat and smallness.

A clearing opened ahead.

There, kneeling in the snow, was a child. No older than eight. A thin nightshirt clung to the tiny frame, bare feet pressed into frost. The child’s shoulders shook, eyes wide with terror.

Rathar’s growl was low and certain. 

Prey.

Korr moved without thinking. He stepped forward, planting himself between the alpha and the child. His fur bristled, tail stiff, eyes locked on Rathar. The word left his throat as a sharp, defiant bark.

No.

The pack froze. Even the wind seemed to pause.

Rathar’s stare burned hotter. A sound rolled from his chest like a rockslide. His ears flattened. His massive head lowered.

Then the alpha lunged.

The collision shook the clearing. Teeth slashed fur and skin. Korr’s shoulder burned as Rathar’s fangs raked deep, hot blood spilling into his pelt. Korr twisted, snapping for the neck, but caught only a mouthful of coarse fur.

They rolled, bodies striking the frozen earth, snow spraying in glittering arcs. Rathar’s weight crushed him down, jaws clamping at the back of his skull. Pain flared white. Korr raked claws along Rathar’s ribs, feeling flesh give beneath them.

The pack circled, silent shadows watching their law play out.

Rathar bit for Korr’s throat. Korr slammed his head upward, cracking his jaws into the alpha’s muzzle. Blood, hot and metallic, flooded his mouth. Rathar snarled, twisting with precision, fangs scoring deep into Korr’s flank.

Pain screamed through Korr’s body. He answered with rage. He drove forward, muscles burning, and sank his teeth into Rathar’s shoulder. Bone ground under his bite. The alpha roared and heaved, throwing him off with brutal force.

Again they crashed together, a blur of claws and teeth. Snow turned red beneath them. Korr’s vision narrowed to nothing but Rathar’s killing eyes.

Then, an opening.

With every shred of strength left, Korr surged up and clamped onto Rathar’s throat. His teeth closed on the pulse, crushing it. The alpha thrashed, carving deep furrows in the snow, but Korr held on, growl rattling through his chest.

The struggles slowed. Stopped.

Korr released him and stepped back, chest heaving. Rathar’s golden eyes dimmed to glass.

The clearing fell silent.

One by one, the wolves lowered their heads to Korr. No growls. No challenge. The law of the hunt was clear.

Behind him, the child sobbed. Korr padded closer, slow and careful, lowering his ears to calm them. Small hands clung to his fur. The sharp scent of fear began to fade.

By dawn, torchlight and frantic voices filled the forest. The child’s parents found them, tears freezing on their cheeks as they pulled the little one into their arms. They never questioned the strange black wolf watching from the trees.

Korr slipped away. The change back to Ren’s form was slow and aching. Blood soaked his shirt and streaked his skin. His steps were heavy, but his heart felt steady.

Ren had killed for the first time not as a wolf, but as himself.

He had protected, not hunted.

And as he crossed the threshold of his home, wounds burning in the warmth, he knew this was only the beginning.

The forest still called to him.

And the new alpha would answer.