Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
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The rain, so prevalent at this time of the year, had reached the Blackridge borders in the early hours of the morning and continued to vary between torrential and relentless throughout the sun's cycle. Now, as the day draw to a close, it was slackening and a fitful breeze was coming in from the south. It scattered the rain in gusty sheets across the surface of the pools of standing water lying across every gap between the trees.
Three wolves picked their way delicately across the village square towards the shelter of the pack-house, their coats heavy with collected water and liberally coated with streaks of mud. The largest of the three - his claws clicking in tandem on the cold stone slabs - trotted up onto the sheltered porch and shook his coat out thoroughly, splattering droplets of rain and mud up the wall of the house.
He stretched luxuriously and allowed his form to shift - the cracking of bones echoing around the deserted square. Fully transformed and unashamedly naked, Alex grinned at his companions as they followed suit, relishing the opportunity to rid themselves of the wet and soggy day that saturated their fur.
"Nice weather for ducks," he commented as he rooted around for the pile of towels always left out for visitors. He threw one over to Simon, who caught it in one hand, and wrapped loosely around his lean frame, the damp air sending chills across his bare shoulders.
The seasoned warrior raised his tanned face to the sky and shrugged. "It seems to be letting up,"
Alex grunted. "We can only hope," he said morosely. "Patrolling in this weather is about as un-fun as you can get... We're here," he added over the link to his Alpha as they swiftly changed into dry clothes.
Their companion chuckled as the two men continued to complain quietly to one another. Charlie had never been bothered by wet weather - there was better hunting after a good rain and the moist air helped mask his scent when out on patrol.
Ten minutes and several damp towels later, they trooped onto what was rapidly becoming known as 'The Beta's Ward'. It was with a great deal of reluctance that Doc had agreed to allow their Alpha to use it as an impromptu gathering point - a necessary sacrifice to prevent Marcus from attempting to leave his bed to attend meetings elsewhere.
The ward was unusually crowded.
A collection of giants took up every available space in the not-at-all-small room. They settled on various chairs and squeezed uncomfortably together on beds - their eyes curious and alert. Almost every patrol leader was present, and the air around them buzzed with a low murmur of speculation.
The borders had been left with only a skeleton crew to defend them, led by the twins, Amara and Issac. It was an unprecedented situation and all sat in eager anticipation of Blake's impromptu council of war.
A table had been installed in the centre of the room. Littered with maps, documents and various other paraphernalia, the worn surface was barely visible. At one end Asher and Barnaby, sat huddled over a bundle of documents, their heads together. An aurora of seriousness emanated from the Alpha's brother, keeping the curious at bay.
