Wynter's Bane (On Hiatus)

Chapter 2

Edited with Grammarly: 4/26/2020

Whirling around, I prance back, acting much like a spooked frog than an apex predator. I manage to keep from dunking myself though and stay on the beach along the waterline. There's not much light, but Werewolves are gifted with enhanced senses; speed, strength, and size, if they have the years for it.

A golden brown wolf stands there, looking on in both amusement and curiosity. His black tribal markings stretch from his shoulders to his ribs, which is about normal. All wolves have them, either on their shoulders or rumps, and can stretch the length of their bodies. They can be black or just a darker shade in their pelt, but usually black.

No one's sure why they're there, as they have always adorned wolves as far back as anyone can remember. Even the Royal bloodlines have them. My own just cover over my shoulders and a little bit down my back and seem so much more obvious since my coat is damn near white.

Honey brown eyes glitter at me before his maw parts in a canine grin. He isn't one from my Pack, so he's from a neighboring one, and technically trespassing. Lifting my nose to get a clear scent unmarred by water-soaked sand and scales, I take in this strange wolf.

"Going to stand there and sniff me all night or are you going to introduce yourself?"

Startled, I cock my head. All wolves have telepathy while in wolf form, but it's pretty rare for one to talk to me, so I'm so unused to it, it almost seems foreign. Screwing my eyes together, I try to remember how to do this.

"You make it sound like my nose is under your tail and has been for hours. You're the one who popped out of nowhere."

His laughter fills my head, and it feels weird. Not bad per-say, just weird. Registering his scent, he smells of many, so he belongs to a Pack, also smells of trees and crisp clean air, warm fur, and musk that is male. Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head and adjust my footing, sinking once more into the suckling sand.

"Actually, I popped out of my mother, and then just recently through the underbrush, you were just too busy belly dragging along the surf to see me. That's a good way to get sand fleas you know."

My eyes widen before I start frog hopping once more, first away from the beach then back to the water to wash it all off. Walking out a thoroughly drenched pooch, I wait till I can feel the grass under my feet before I stop and shake off the excess. Seeing him a few feet away rolling on his back, laughter both in my head while yips and whines come from his physical throat, I plop my rear end down and watch, un-amused.

"That was mean."

Falling over to his side, he looks over at me, eyes all aglitter even as he looks contrite.

"I'm sorry, I've just never seen a wolf hop like that. I wasn't lying about the fleas if that's what you're afraid of. The humans' dogs get them every year around here and they're always blaming it on the lake's beaches. When you get home, take a hot shower right away and you shouldn't have too much a problem."

Eyeing him, I nod, his voice sincere. Humans know about us, and one of the derogatory names they've given us is flea-bitten, I'd rather not prove that as true. Treaties are in place for each town that a Pack settles into, yet even in this day and age, there's still segregation and all that. Probably a good thing they don't know the extent of our full capabilities.

"Thank you. Now, going to tell me who you are and why you're trespassing?"

Rolling upright onto his belly, his head is held high, so right there should say something, sort of. Even if some are lower in Pack structure, teenagers are still teenagers and will act as such when it comes to attitudes. He's relaxed, no real posturing going on at all, so he's pretty secure with who and what he is.

"My name is Markus, and I don't consider it trespassing when I came for a specific peaceful reason."

That doesn't tell me much, so I cock my head, waiting for him to continue. Rolling his eyes, he stretches out his front legs, toes reaching outward so much I can see the webbing between them.

"A young wolf out on their own. It's not overly dangerous in these parts, but there are bear and moose that have been known to charge at Werewolves when they get too close. I saw you running by and figured I'd give you some company."

All I can do is blink at him, unsure what to say at first before my jaw opens in a wolf smile, tongue slipping out over my teeth a little bit.

"Thank you, for your company I mean. I've never seen a bear or a moose up close before, but I'm pretty sure I'd have the brains to stay away from them."

His jaw parts and does much the same as he nods.

"Alright, now you. Who are you? I'm guessing you're part of the new Pack that just moved in?"

Nodding, I'm hesitant to say just who I am, not wanting to lose the one person who's showing me even this small bit of attention and kindness.

"I am, name's Wynter. Mine was the last family to come in."

He nods, eyes getting caught on an owl swooping in just feet away to grasp a mouse in its powerful talons. Seeing it now, I hear it screech as it flies off with its small bounty, which if I'm not mistaken, hadn't been killed in the initial attack, so it's still alive. Even if it is, chances are it will die of a heart attack before it's eaten.

Markus and I chat for about an hour more before he has to leave. I claim I do too, even though I could probably get away with staying out for several more hours. I thank him for his company, which he gives me an odd look over but accepts anyway, then we part ways and I head home.