Mikel (#Short, Incomplete)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The air is spiteful, its touch harbouring a numbing cold. It roams low to the ground, forming thick gouts of heavy fog, tinting everything grey. Snow is thick upon the grass, creating a slate of white that runs for several acres. The trees that stand together in hoards are bare, stripped to nothing but the brittle bark that barely keeps them upright, with branches tinged in frost. The wind is still in movement, embarking a deadly silence to the world beneath, extinguishing anything and everything but the cold. The cold is all they would know when winter reigns the throne.

It's early, at the cusp of the day beginning, where dark and light share one final battle before the night would succumb and fall back into the shadows. It didn't mean much, for the sun was weakened in such times, it's glow dull and without passion. There is no warmth left in her, nothing to nurture the tortured souls that cry out below her, each minute taking them closer and closer to death. Such was inevitable; winter was the cruellest of them all.

But it was a steppingstone. When winter ends, everything else begins yet again. A new slate for the world, where everything is reborn, and growth is absolute once again.

It is needed.

The pack tied to such hatred, is quiet in this moment. Most wolves are tucked away into the safety of their homes, huddled in thick furs of warmth and with their loved ones, revelling in the strength they share together.

In the far north of the woods, the furthest point towards the pole, some were disobeying winter's demand of silence. To the naked eye, they were nothing but large images of blurred colour, movements too swift to detect.

The two wolves are fast, paws hitting against the ground caked with snow, with purpose and resilience. They run with fast strokes, legs kicking back and front paws pounding with menace. One staggers a little behind, but determination reeks from the both of them. The dirt and ice caked on their furs are ignored, the cuts bleeding out on their paws are ignored – only the blood pumping through the veins is what drives them. It's aggressive, primal. It's free in this moment in time.

They draw closer towards civilisation, away the isolation primed in the northern woods, inching towards their humanity. It's a clumsy dive into the main grounds once their trail has ended, both wolves trying to outdo the other. It's a few snarls shared at each other. The bigger one always wins.

It doesn't matter though, because with the movement ending, the cold attacks. It's a quick shift into naked skin, before pulling on clothes that they had left for their return. It's done in silence, attempting to protect the delicacy of their skin. But alas, their flesh has already been burdened with goosebumps, colour being impaled and becoming flushed. Skin shivers and fingertips become numb. Cold, condensed air is exhaled out, both trying to regain themselves, chests expanding and settling.

It doesn't bother them too much though, dark eyes clashing against each other. The male gives an easy-going grin first, cockiness evident on his face for winning in their race of speed. The female scowls, tucking her arms into herself.

"I hate you so much," it's uttered dryly as they trek back into mainland's, heading towards the packhouse. A smirk splays on his lips, dark hues cutting over to hers.

"Nah. You love me really," pulling her closer, an arm around her shoulders. She doesn't make a move to let him off, his skin warm against hers, soothing to the touch. Her eyes cut at him in obvious distaste.

"I don't know who lied to you, but I would never love someone who makes me wake up before the crack of dawn to make me train," her tone is nonchalant. The male only chuckles, the sound hearty.

"Don't blame me ma, I'm just tryna shape your ass into being my perfect beta," her face drops at him, and she sighs.

"Perfection can also be achieved without having to wake up at four in the morning. A girl needs her beauty sleep," she huffs.