3rd person’s POV
The night was eerily silent and the woods, that were almost always alive with the sounds of night and it’s creatures, seemed to be holding its breath. A woman, tore through the brush of trees, her feet pounding against the forest floor, disturbing the layers of leaves and twigs beneath her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the small, fragile body of a baby, pressing the child close to her chest, its tiny face pressed against her breast, as if her very heartbeat could shield it from the danger chasing them.
Her breath came in ragged, desperate gasps as she tore through the dense forest, branches whipped her face, drawing blood, but she didn’t care.
Even as her heart pounded painfully in her chest, and her legs burned with exhaustion, she still ran.
Behind her, something crashed through the undergrowth, relentless in its pursuit. She could feel the darkness that followed it, it’s presence closing in on her, the heavy, predatory footsteps that got louder with each second. Panic clawed at her throat as she pushed herself harder, knowing that her child’s life-no, their lives-depended on her escape.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wild with terror, but saw nothing. Just the breath of the monster over her neck , she whimpered her lungs burning as she pushed herself harder, her legs screaming for relief, she couldn’t stop though not when she was so close. She was so close to the pack lands, so close to safety.
The trees seemed to blur together as she ran, her vision narrowing to nothing but the path ahead. In the distance, she could see the faint outline of the Gold Wolf pack lands, of the border trees, the ones that marked the edge of the territory. If she could just make it there…
. If she could just reach them, if she could just make it to the border, they might be saved. The pack would protect them. She had to believe that.
The baby’s soft whimper barely registered over the thunderous pounding in her ears. Her arms tightened around the fragile bundle, whispering prayers to the Moon Goddess for help, for her child.
The closer she got the more panic surged through her, fueling her with adrenaline till she broke through the tree line. She could see the pack’s houses in the distance, the faint glow of torches and lanterns. She was almost there. Almost-
Something cold and sharp wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off her feet with a force that sent her sprawling. She hit the ground hard, her body twisting to shield the baby as she tumbled through the dirt and thin layer of snow, her knees and palms scraped against the rough sandy earth.
Her body stung at the scraps but none of the pain she felt could compare to the dread clawing at her insides.
“No…” she whispered, her voice hoarse with desperation.
She struggled to rise, to run but her body refused to cooperate. Her muscles screamed in protest as she tried to drag herself forward, her fingers clawing at the dirt her blood smearing across the ground beneath her as she pulled herself inch by agonizing inch, she didn’t get to make it another foot, when she felt it, it was in the air that grew colder
The next moment came too fast to process. Clawed fingers, sharper than any blade, slashed through her back, tearing through skin, muscle, and bone as if she were nothing more than wet paper. A strangled scream erupted from her throat as her body was thrown forward, landing in a heap at the base of a tree blood gurgled from her lips as she stalked forward. The sharp crack of her bones breaking echoed in the wind but the agony was fleeting.
Her world began to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges of her vision.
She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t listen to her, so she could only lie there, helpless, as the warmth of her own blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the earth. As her breathing grew shallow, ragged. The baby… her baby… cradled protectively against her chest, its tiny body unnaturally still his small, fragile chest no longer rose or fell.
The child was dead. Silent. Cold.
Footsteps echoed along the forest floor and she didn’t look around or find it, there was no point, tears blurred her vision as she lay bleeding out, until couldn’t feel the cold anymore, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her heart.
So that just as her eyes began to flutter closed, they caught something-a face. Hollow and wide eyes , staring back at her.
It was Jayden, her pack member. His body twisted and discarded among the roots of a nearby trees. His lifeless eyes locked with hers,
“Warn… them.” She hissed as her eyes closed, her voice weak, barely audible over the howling, but he wouldn’t, no one would, everyone was dead
—
” Ten small packs massacred this is not a joke” a man yelled slamming at the tables.
The atmosphere in the Werewolf Council chamber was heavy with tension. The council chambers, were nestled deep within the mountains and away from any single pack’s territory, and had been reserved for only the most serious of matters-war, peace treaties, and now this, the discussion of a new danger that threatened the very existence of the werewolf kingdom. The large, circular table dominated the center of the room, where the Alpha’s most powerful packs had gathered, each one of them had been summoned by the one’s on a higher table seated the Elders, wolves ancient from time known
At the head of the table sat Elder Grazan, a grizzled and scarred wolf who had seen more than a century of leadership huffed, he was not one for theatrics and this one annoyed him even further.
” Shut up, we are not hear to shout” he hissed. His face was lined with age and battle, but his eyes were still sharp, piercing through the room like a hawk scanning the field before a hunt.
He had been formidable in his time, deserving of his title as Elder. He raised a hand to call for silence, and immediately, the murmurs of the gathered alphas and their beta’s died down.
“He is right” Elder Cree muttered, he knew what his old friend was trying to do but the Alpha was right.
Alpha Thrain, leader of the Silver Fang pack, was the first to speak. His voice boomed through the chamber, his tone grave, filled with barely concealed rage
“What we face is unlike anything we have encountered before. This threat doesn’t just endanger one pack-it endangers all of us. Our very existence as a species is at stake.”
Across from him, Alpha Selene of the Nightshade Pack narrowed her eyes.
“What do you mean, Thrain? We’ve dealt with rogue wolves and rival packs before. What makes this any different?”
Thrain’s expression hardened.
“This is no rogue wolf or rival pack. This is something far more dangerous. A beast that kills without discrimination, mother, father, pups. Ten packs all decimated ”
Waving her hand to silence them,
“We are gathered here because the threat against our kind has revealed itself,” Elder Rea began, her voice low and gravelly.
“An ancient werewolf, one that predates our oldest bloodlines, has risen. He is Lycaon.”
Dimitri, sitting near the center of the table, leaned forward, his jaw clenched. This had not been in his agenda, rebuilding from a previous war that had almost decimated his people had been his priority.
“How do we know this isn’t just another rogue pack trying to stir up trouble? We’ve dealt with worse.”
“This is no rogue,” Thrain said, meeting Dimitri’s gaze.
“This is a wolf with powers none of us possess. He has lived for centuries, untouched by time, and has gathering a following of -wolves who believe in his cause, who have sworn to fight for him.”
Elder Rea sighed running her had over the wooden table, this was not good . They may have been elders but the Ancient werewolf was more.
“Lycaon was believed to be nothing more than a legend. A tale told to frighten pups on long winter nights. But he is real, and more dangerous than any of us could have imagined. His goal as clear as it has always been-unification of the entire werewolf kingdom under his rule, to enslave us all and bend our will to his.” she mumbled
” We tried to stop him once and succeeded in pushing him to the edge of the world but if he is back then, I don’t know what we can do”
“He’s a myth,” one of the younger alphas scoffed, though his voice wavered.
“There’s no way a wolf like that could still exist. The packs would’ve known.”
“Would you?” Elder Grazan asked sharply, his eyes narrowing.
“The council is blind to many things and so are the wolves. We are fractured, divided by petty rivalries and territorial disputes. Fighting among ourselves, while Lycaon has been gathering strength, preparing for this moment.”
An uneasy silence fell over the room the weight of his words sinking in.
“And how do you know this? How do we know it’s truly him?”
Thrain turned to the council’s Beta, Marcus, who stood at the back of the room, his expression grim.
“We have reports. Eyes have seen him. Wolves have fallen. The Ritchen, the Flacro pack and many more destroyed mother to pup”
“We’ve received reports,” Thrain continued,
“of entire packs disappearing overnight. Warriors slaughtered without mercy. Women and children butchered in their homes. This is not an enemy we can afford to underestimate.”
Dimitri’s fists clenched beneath the table. He could still feel the blood on his hands from the last battle his pack had fought. He could still hear the screams, the cries for help that went unanswered. The thought of more dead, devoured sent a shiver of worry down his spine.
“What does Lycaon want?” Dimitri asked, his voice low.
The council chamber fell into a heavy silence as the gravity of the situation sank in.
Alpha Tyrell, leader of the Iron Claw Pack, spoke next.
“That is a very valid question, what his endgame? Does he intend to rule over the packs, or does he mean to destroy us all?”
Elder Lyra shook her head as she finally spoke walking to the center of the dias her robe flowing behind her like silk curtains.
“Ruling isn’t enough for him. The ancient wolf wants absolute control. He sees himself as a god among wolves, and he intends to enslave every werewolf under his command. Those who resist will be slaughtered.”
“We can’t fight this alone,” another alpha spoke up, his voice grim.
“No single pack is strong enough to stand against a force like that.”
Thrain nodded. “Which is why we must unite. The werewolf kingdom has never faced a threat like this before. If we do not stand together, we will fall.”
” Speak for yourself” young Alpha Denzel hissed rising to his feet
” The Lockway pack is more than you could ever dream, we don’t need the protection of outsiders least of all the council’s”
A murmur of agreement spread through the room, from some of the wolves and Lyra sighed, she had expected this to be a difficult task after all, the idea of uniting all packs under one banner was easier said than done. Old grudges and rivalries ran deep, and many of the alphas present had fought against one another in the past. Trust was a rare commodity among wolves.
” Fight together saves us time resources and money. I would think that would be preferred” Dimitri hissed
“What’s the plan?” he asked his voice cutting through the noise.
Thrain looked around the table, his gaze sweeping over each alpha, each one
“The plan is to gather our forces. We will call on every pack, from the smallest to the largest, to send warriors. We will train together, fight together, and when the time comes, we will face Lycaon as one.”
“And what if some packs refuse?” an alpha from the southern territories asked, his eyes narrowed.
“They won’t have a choice,” Thrain said, his voice hard.
“If they refuse, they will be left to fend for themselves. And they will fall.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of Thrain ‘s words settled over the alphas.
Dimitri’s mind raced as he considered the implications of what was being proposed. A united front. Packs that had been enemies for generations, standing side by side. It seemed impossible, but it was the only way.
“I’ll send word to my pack,” Dimitri said