chapter 10: The making of an Alpha

The training grounds of Night Fang sat in a valley of shadowed pines, cold air misting like breath from the earth. Snow lay packed and firm underfoot, shaped by years of footsteps, sparring, and sweat. Warriors moved through drills in steady, synchronized rhythm. No one slacked. No one postured. They trained to be better, not to prove themselves.
Alex stood at the edge of the grounds, pulse quick, hands lightly shaking.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
Aeron stood beside her, tall, composed, his presence grounding without pressing. He didn’t look at her to reassure her. He simply stood with her. As though that alone was enough.
“Before strength,” he said softly, “comes presence.”
Alex swallowed. “Presence?”
“Yes.” Aeron turned to face her fully, his voice gentle but firm. “Your entire life, standing small kept you alive. So you survived by shrinking. By folding. By trying not to be seen.”
Her chest tightened.
He wasn’t wrong.
“But you were never meant to be small, Alex.”
The ground might as well have shifted beneath her.
Aeron gestured toward the center of the training circle.
“Go.”
Alex stepped into the ring. Warriors paused their movements to watch — not mocking, not challenging — waiting.
Aeron spoke from behind her.
“Say it.”
She didn’t know what “it” was.
Not until her wolf rose beneath her skin and whispered:
Claim your space.
Alex drew a breath.
Her voice was quiet — but unwavering.
“I am here.”
No tremor.
No apology.
The air changed.
Warriors stood straighter. Eyes sharpened. A ripple of instinct moved through the clearing like wind passing over tall grass.
Aeron spoke softly, tone warm with approval.
“Good.”
The First Spar
A warrior stepped forward from the watchers — tall, broad-shouldered, hair tied at the nape, wolf energy steady. His scent was pine bark and iron.
“Fen,” Aeron said by way of introduction. “One of my strongest. Fair. Precise.”
Aeron’s gaze met Fen’s. “And respectful.”
Fen bowed his head to Alex — not shallowly, not mocking — properly.
“An honor,” he said.
His tone held genuine sincerity.
Alex bowed in return. “Thank you.”
They circled. Snow crunched softly beneath their feet. Fen struck first — a swift, direct swipe toward her shoulder. Alex dodged — not panicked, but instinctive.
Fen smirked — not mocking, but encouraged.
“Good reflex.”
He moved again — faster this time. Alex stepped inside the arc of his arm, pivoted, and without thinking — swept his leg from beneath him.
Fen hit the ground — breath leaving him in a puff of vapor.
Silence.
Then — Fen laughed. A warm, surprised, delighted sound.
“Well done,” he said, pushing up and offering her his hand.
Alex took it.
Warriors murmured. Not shock.
Recognition.
Aeron’s voice was a low rumble of pride behind her.
“You learn fast.”
Alex exhaled. Her heartbeat was steady. For the first time in her life her body did not feel like something she had to endure. It felt like something she could use.
The Leader’s Test
Two warriors several yards away were sparring — but the match was turning. Their wolves flared hot, tense, teeth-bared on the edge of snapping into something more.
Aeron’s eyes flicked in their direction.
But Alex was already moving.
She stepped between them, posture calm, chin lifted, hands steady at her sides — not raised, not guarded.
Authority without aggression.
“Enough.”
Her voice was soft.
But it carried.
The two wolves stiffened — breaths stilling — energy bleeding slowly out of their stances. Their eyes lowered. One nodded. The other bowed his head.
They stepped back.
Alex hadn’t forced submission.
She had inspired respect.
Aeron’s voice came from behind her, quiet enough for only her to hear.
“Leadership is not taken. It is felt.”
Alex’s breath trembled — not with fear.
With realization.
This is who I am.
Her wolf curled warm and sure inside her chest.
We are rising.
We are remembering.
We are becoming.