Salt to Her Sea ✔️

1. presentation of blood

THADAL

I was a male who never gave much thought to when things would finally turn away. I had an empire pre-built for me, a loving family, a prestigious pack. Soon I would be Alpha. I hoped to one day find my mate, take her home, keep her safe. I never questioned my strength, ability, or will.

I was wild, easily disheartened, narrow-minded, obsessed with who I should be over who I was. I was scared of losing control. I hoped for one person to just look at me, not at the title, the eyes, or the body. Just me.

The day before I met her went simply.

Waking up was pale light on my face, it didn't stream in through the canopy of trees, it pressed down; an oppressive ceiling. The overcast, November sky was typical marine weather for this time of year. It didn't bother me much, I never cared much for sunshine until later.

I got up after a moment or two of laying in silence, stretched my aching limbs, and surveyed the copse of trees from my wooded outcropping. There was an unfulfilled feeling deep in my belly that never went away. I knew it could have been a lack of a mate, I could live with that. I was only twenty-two Winters. Almost twenty-three come the Solstice in a month and a half.

I couldn't bear to sleep indoors usually, or in my skin form. In fact, I spent most of my time as a wolf. In my skin I was constantly on edge, flesh crawling with unease. I was always much more comfortable in fur. It was in my blood, my history.

I sought out one of the many clothing sheds around the Brine's Peak territoy. After a moment of brutal shifting and then regaining proper mobility of my human hands, I finally pulled out a sweater. Tugging it over my head, I realized it was pretty snug over my chest and shoulders but would have to do. Next was some over-worn jeans that always seemed to sling low on my hips but hug my thighs. No shoes, one thing I would only wear if I absolutely had to. Simple clothing even irritated me.

This was routine. Head in to the packhouse kitchen, gray day, eat something. Mingle with the pack, ask Opal how are you today? She's an old and frail wolf, always smiling, she makes the greatest apple bread I have ever tasted. Sweet, with a touch of cinnamon.

My mother always told me to make small talk with the pack. It was like an exercise, she said. For my social inhibitions and wild tendencies. It was all part of my Alpha training. Yet, in the end it would all come down to who I was. Did I have the instict and nature to be an Alpha? In other words, can I control myself?

Prowl in my natural form, hunt down some game for the pack. I was one of our sole providers on my own,  though typically groups of five would hunt together. It strengthens our bonds and eases the hunt.

Head out to the training field, check up on my pack members, comment and critique. Catch up with the Beta and his son who had become the co-leaders of the training field with my own father, the Alpha. My uncle had been previously destined for the position but he denied it after some events as a juvenile.

I was walking with Kennet, the Beta's son, who would one day soon be my second, when Vayne came strolling over. He's a smart wolf, book smart, but he wasn't a sociable wolf. Often times he had this glint in his eye that I could never put my finger on. He always smelled stale; cigarettes and unwashed clothing.

"Alpha-to-be, Beta-to be," He addressed us with respect, but it made my eye twitch, bending at his hips in a slight bow, neck exposed. He looks to me, all attention is always on me with him. "Did you consider my proposal? I mean, you asked me to attend the gathering tomorrow."

"For detail purposes," Kennet replies, disinterested. He deals with all the paperwork, everything I think up, he makes happen. He always has to add his reality twist, as he calls it. Claiming; not every wolf thinks like a wolf. "we need someone to write down everything that happens. For history, thanks, and possible retribution. Especially since we are travelling into another territory that we are unfamiliar with."