The White Wolf #Wattys2020

Prologue

The wolf tilted its head back and sniffed the air before whining loudly. The air grew thicker with the smell of metal as the animal's calloused paws carried it towards the source. His thick, black fur allowed for him to blend within the shadows casted by the pines and the silvery moonlight. Weaving through trees, a faint glow came from the edge of the clearing and the wolf could make out the outline of his neighbouring pack's gathering house.

Another whimper erupted from the wolf's throat as he took in the scene in front of him. All around the clearing lay the remains of the once strongest packs in North America, their limbs scattered across the damp earth. The smell of blood was suffocating and the wolf threatened to gag. Around him lay the faces of his allies, his friends, some even his family. Not a soul stirred in the clearing, and he knew none of them would respond to his sounds of distress.

A howl tore through the silence of the clearing from deep within the trees. The beast raised its head and sung his own song, knowing his own pack would hear his sorrows and come to him. He sat on his hunches next to the corpse of a female he recognised as one of his deceased wife's old friends. He pawed softly at her shoulder in hopes for any signs of life but even he knew she would not wake.

The thundering sound of approaching wolves pulled the wolf out of his silent farewell. He rose and trotted towards the arriving members of his own pack. Wolves poured from the shadows of the trees and gathered around their leader. They whimpered quietly as they saw their dead allies. An agonising howl escaped the lips of a brown wolf as he kneeled by the body of his murdered brother. The others watched in mournful silence as he licked his brother's pelt on last time.

The black wolf stomped his front paw softly on the tainted earth, gaining the attention of his pack. He hunched over and snarled loudly as his bones began to snap and reshape themselves. Soon, a man stood in the place of the wolf, naked as the day he was born, wearing a grim expression.

"Blue Moon Pack, it seems we were too late to help our allies." He swallowed his own sorrow as he continued. "Scout the grounds for any survivors. Travel in groups in case the rogues return. Mind-link if you find anything."

The group dissolved into smaller arrangements and searched through the blood bath for any flicker of life. When none was found in the clearing they fanned out to scout the rest of the territories, going through the scattered houses in which the pack members lived. The further into the territory they travelled, the more blood an death they found.

As the sun peaked over the pine trees, the man called his pack back together again at the clearing. There had been no survivors. He ordered his members to collect the bodies and make a large pyre in the middle of the clearing to honour the dead with a proper werewolf funeral.

The wolves sat around, watching the flames greedily lick their friends, and soon nothing was left but ashes and the haunting memories of what they had come across in the middle of the night.

As they turned away to return to their own territory to properly grieve, an unfamiliar cry came from the pack house. The man turned and saw a pup sitting in the doorstep. He froze in his tracks, as did the rest of the pack, not believing their eyes. The pup let out another cry of grief before dragging itself towards the wolves.

The man felt the air leave his lungs as he caught a glimpse of the pup's fur under the late sun. Beneath the blotches of blood that coated the youngster came strands of snow white fur. He would not have trusted his own eyes if he had not heard the gasps of disbelief from his members.

Not only was there a survivor, there was a white wolf in front of them. The man took an unsure steps towards the house, as if scared of frightening the little one. When he stood before it, he knelt down and held a cautious hand out.

"Are you alone, little one?"

The pup whimpered and nodded its head at the remains of the pyre, before crying out again. The man's heart pinched uncomfortably, realising how ridiculous his question was.

He placed a gentle hand on it's face, caressing its cheek. The pup sniffled and pressed its head deeper into his touch, searching for comfort of any kind, anything to erase the horrific images of the blood.

The man touched the wolf's chin to make it look at her. "I'm Alpha Daniel of the Blue Moon Pack. We were allies of your people. We are family, little one, and we are going to make sure you are okay."

He could not believe he was face to face with a white wolf. They were rare beings, so rare it was believed they were a myth. White wolves were stronger than normal wolves with heightened senses and the ability to quicken the healing of those around them. Having white wolf blood run through a bloodline would ensure some of the strongest werewolves to ever run on this earth. Unfortunately legend also had it that by killing one, the murderer would be granted immortality. Later it was discovered that that part of the legend was untrue, but the white wolf population had been butchered so drastically it was believed they were extinct.

Stepping back out of his thoughts, he gazed into the pup's wide blue eyes. Its large pupils surrounded by an sapphire blue iris with black slashes drew him in. He felt as though he was drowning in its grief, as if the youngster's emotions were rolling off of its body and invading his own.

"Can you shift, little one? Please, we mean you no harm."

He was unsure if the wolf understood him as it drew its head from the soft touches of his hand to shrink into itself. As the Alpha was about to ask it again, the familiar sound of cracking bones erupted and the white pelt morphed into immaculate skin stained with blood and dirt. A little girl curled up on her side lay before the man and he held back a furious growl when he saw the large bite mark on her side. The torn flesh on the left side of her waist leaked little strains of blood, further watering the ground with the reminiscence of violence.

Daniel moved to scoop the girl up but she flinched away from his out-stretched arms. He pulled back, before reaching out for her again, much slower this time. He made sure his hands were in her peripheral view so she could see he meant no harm.

"I'm going to lift you up, okay? We need to get you back to our pack doctor to check your wounds."

She watched him with wary eyes, pushing her matted brown hair from her eyes before giving a slight nod. He drew her in his arms and held her protectively to his bare chest. As he carried her back to his waiting pack she grasped his forearm, tensing as the wolves pushed each other to have a better view of her. She whimpered as she felt their wet noses gliding over her naked legs, missing the familiar gesture from her own people. A feeling she would never feel again.

The Alpha let out a low growl, as to warn his people not to overwhelmher with their curiosity. They backed off, but remained flocked around him as they made their way home.