Mask | ✓

1

When I reached the western border, nothing was there. I could smell the patrol team in the surrounding area as they spread and examined the perimeter.

Tonight's, thankfully, a quiet night.

My eyes scanned the area one last time before I turned to leave. Before returning home for the night, I would stop by the eastern and northern border.

I stopped and stretched my legs before taking off, but I didn't get too far before the faint scent of blood invaded my nostrils, causing my body to tense. One sniff told me that it wasn't one of my pack members, meaning that there was a rogue after all, but it wasn't in the pack lands. Seeing as it didn't cross the border, I could've left it. It would've made sense, too, as we weren't in any position to be trying to play hero, but it didn't feel right.

Sure, there were some evil rogues out there, but there were also good ones. If this one was hurt and I knew about it, then I couldn't just leave it.

I took another sniff and began to follow the faint scent of blood. I knew that Maia, my gamma, would disapprove of my actions. She would've told me to ignore it and continue my patrols, but I couldn't bring myself to. As much as I hated to admit it, I was reminded of my mate. Had he passed into someone else's territory instead of my own, I would've wanted someone to help him rather than ignore him.

I'd check it out, and then if it looked too risky to get involved in, I would leave.

The more I walked, the stronger the scent became until it was almost overwhelming. I stopped just a few ways outside the pack border, and I searched the area, looking to see where the scent was coming from.

That was another thing about being a werewolf I was thankful for. Given how dark it was, for a human, it would've been hard to make anything out, but a werewolf's eyesight was better. Because of this, I spotted a dark wolf lying partially underneath a bush.

The logical part of me told me to ignore the wolf. Given its condition, there was a chance that it wouldn't even survive throughout the night. Still, the curious part of me caused me to walk toward the injured figure. If not for the faint sound of it breathing, I would've thought it was already dead.

Its coat was a bloody, knotted mess, its body shook like a leaf in the wind, and part of its ear was missing.

Would it be better to put the poor thing out of its misery?

The idea made the most sense with the state it was in, but the sound that escaped the wolf's mouth caused me to pause. I was used to finding injured wolves within or near pack territory — it wasn't a strange occurrence. Many whined out of pain or fear, and others asked for help, but this wolf was different.

Although it looked like it already had a foot in its grave, the wolf managed to turn over. Deep, angry, brown eyes glared at me, and the wolf let out a low growl.

I could kill the wolf if I wanted to. I could leave it here for dead, but something about the look in its eyes told me that it didn't matter. I could leave the wolf out here in its condition, and it would still manage to survive out of spite.

Maia's going to be mad at me.

The wolf let out another growl as I leaned toward it, but I wasn't worried.