First Person’s PerspectiveValenThe fire burned low in front of me, but I did not need its warmth. I felt fire already in my chest. Victory was close. I could taste it like blood on my tongue.My spy came back that night. He slipped into the camp with the quiet of a fox. His cloak was dirty from the road. His boots left dark marks on the ground. He bowed to me, coughing from dust. His eyes moved quick, like a rat looking for holes. When he spoke, each word felt precious.“Alpha,” he said, “it is happening. Leo’s pack is falling apart.”I did not stand at once. I let the words sit in the air. “Tell me everything,” I said.He told me small things first. Men whisper in the market. Mothers hide the children. A guard will not meet another man’s eye. Then he said the best part slow and low. “They have a picture, Alpha. A recording. It shows Leo with Flora.”A slow smile spread across my face. I could feel something shift under my skin. “With Flora?”“Yes. Someone took it in the lodge. They
First Person’s Perspective LeoI returned before dawn. The sky was a dirty grey, clouds hanging low, and the smell of rain clung to the air. My boots struck the ground, slow and steady. My body was still heavy with the night. With her. Flora.The gate should have been loud with soldiers changing posts, a few men calling greetings, the usual rhythm of life. Instead, silence stretched like a rope. Heads turned when I entered, then dropped fast. Mothers pulled their children away as if my shadow could stain them. Men who had been talking suddenly found their throats dry. Even the dogs gave one low growl before retreating.It was not respect. It was something else. Something sharper.I forced my face calm. I would not give them the pleasure of seeing surprise. I pushed the doors to the main hall. The air inside was thick, as if the walls themselves had shifted closer together.“Alpha,” one man muttered, bowing halfway. His voice was weak, as if he feared to speak and feared more to stay
First Person’s Perspective FloraThe sound of rain had been steady all evening, falling against the roof and dripping down the window. I had been sitting in the quiet, staring out, my thoughts heavy as always, when a sudden knock came at the door.I jumped a little. No one usually came this late.When I opened the door, Kiran stood there, soaked from head to toe. Her cloak was dripping water onto the floor, and her hair stuck to her cheeks. She looked like she had been running through the storm.“Kiran?” I asked quickly, pulling her inside. “What happened? Why are you out in this rain?”She closed the door fast, leaning her back against it, her chest rising and falling. Her eyes searched mine, wide and uneasy. “Flora,” she whispered, “something is wrong in the pack.”The tone of her voice made my heart pound. “What do you mean? Tell me.”She pulled off her wet cloak and laid it over the chair. Her fingers were shaking as she brushed hair away from her face. “I don’t know everything,”
Third Person’s PerspectiveLeo woke that morning with a cold fire in his chest. The night had been short. His sleep had been broken by images of shadows and men climbing toward him. The fact that men had tried to kill him burned in him like hot coal. He felt betrayed. He felt small. He felt something in him break.He walked through the pack house like a storm. His guards fell back as he passed. He did not speak. He did not need to. The weight of his look made men step aside and hold their breath.By midday, the word spread: Leo would speak to the pack at the main square. People came slowly. They came in groups, in small faces, in worried lines. When an Alpha calls the pack, they come. That was the law.The square smelled of smoke from cooking fires. Children clung to their mothers’ skirts. Elders sat on benches, their faces lined with worry. The sun burned high, but no one laughed. Tension hummed in the air.Leo walked out on the raised platform. He wore dark clothes. His face was set
Third Person’s PerspectiveThe night was quiet, but the hearts of men were not.In a dark corner of the village, where the broken fences leaned and the air smelled of damp soil, a small group gathered. These were the same men who had once tried to take Alpha Leo’s life. Their bodies still carried the marks of that failure,bandaged wrists, bruised ribs, stiff movements,but their eyes burned with the same fire.The leader of the small band, a tall man named Garreth, stood with his back to the group. His voice was low but sharp. “We failed once. We went in blind, thinking we could face him with blades and rope. We were fools. Leo is not a man,he is a beast. His strength is not something common hands can break.”A murmur ran through the group. One of the younger rebels, Tomas, touched the scar on his chin and spat into the dirt. “Then what do we do? If we cannot kill him, do we just wait until he kills us?”Another man shook his head, his voice trembling with anger. “No. Waiting is death.
Third Person’s PerspectiveValen walked through his yard with a light step. The sun shone warm on his face. He stopped and looked around. The sight made his chest feel full.The yard was full of life. Wolves ran in lines, laughing and calling to one another. Some practiced simple moves. Some did quick fights, pushing and testing each other. Others lifted heavy logs and raced down the field. There was no fear on their faces now. Instead, there was joy. The hard work had turned into play. The drills had become games. The pack moved together like a single body.Young wolves jumped and rolled on the grass. Old wolves moved with strong backs and steady feet. Women and men threw wooden spears and caught them again. Even children watched and learned. The sound of bodies hitting the ground, of boots on dirt, and of happy shouts filled the air.A man named Rourke ran by, sweat on his brow but a bright grin on his face. “Alpha Valen!” he called. “Come see this.” He spun his partner and then lan