The Only Survivor

In a dark cave in the Northern Mountains a blood-spattered and weary general sat hunched next to a dying fire. Beside him, a small boy slept fitfully, still whimpering and crying for a mother who would never comfort him again.

The battle was lost before the man had even arrived on the scene. The dead were scattered around the road, like blossoms shed from a tree, the Alpha and his Luna had been brutally slain, along with their beta, and the handful of guards that were with them. They had been ambushed on their own territory. The child was the only survivor.

There was movement at the mouth of the cave, a small scuffle in the loose gravel. The general moved quickly, leaping over the fire, flying through the shadows, until he had the intruder by the neck, and his steel blade pressed against the neck.

“Jareth…” The intruder managed to croak.

Immediately, the general released his hold. “Apologies, Alpha.”

They stepped into the cave, and the flickering firelight revealed the intruder was an old man with a weathered face and a shock of snow white hair that always seemed to be standing on end. He let out a sound, something between a sob and a sigh when he saw the sleeping child, with only the general's coat for a bed.

“How can this have happened?” The old man whispered, squatting down beside the boy. He reached out a hand to touch the baby-fine brown hair.

“It had to be an inside job,” Jareth said, rubbing a rough face that hadn’t seen a razor in weeks. “There’s no other way such a large force could have attacked inside pack lands. I’m sorry Alpha, I was too late. I couldn’t–” The words choked him. He closed his eyes to shut out the scene he’d encountered on the road, the absolute slaughter of his kinsmen. “I found the boy under the Luna. She covered him with her own body as she was dying. She saved him.”

He bowed his head, the sorrow and the regret were too heavy to bear.

Had he arrived sooner, perhaps he could have defended the Alpha and his family. But then again, one man, even an experienced general, might not have been able to hold off the savage horde. By the signs he observed, there had been at least fifty attackers. He probably would have died alongside the Alpha.

And then there would have been no one left to find the boy.

The old man sat back on his haunches. “The important thing now is that my grandson is alive. He is now the heir of the Broken Arrow pack.”

“Will you take him back with you, then?”

The old alpha stared at the fire for a long time. “Did anyone see you take the child?”

“I don’t think so.”

“If they know Colten survived, they might come back for him. Until we find out who is responsible for the murder of my son and his mate, and their men, my grandson is not safe.” He picked up a stick from the small pile the general had collected and tossed it into the embers. “It’s better that they believe the boy is dead. It will make them bold and careless.”

“If their goal was to eliminate the Alpha’s family, they might come for you next,” Jareth warned.

“Let them try, if they dare!” the old Alpha growled, with a ferocity that belied his age.

They fell silent again, both of them thinking about what to do to protect the boy.

“Take the boy with you. Pretend to be his widowed father. Go to Crimson Falls and stay there. Alpha Felix owes me a favor. He’ll grant you a pack transfer.”

Jareth, who was fiercely loyal to the old Alpha, was ready to follow his orders. “For how long?”

“I don’t know, Jareth. As long as it takes. Until we find the culprit, or until the boy is strong enough to take his place as the Alpha.” They both knew it could be months, or it could be years. The old man stood, and his knees popped in protest. He placed a hand on the general’s shoulders. “You are the only one I can trust now. You must keep Colten safe. I’m depending on you. The boy is depending on you,” his gnarled fingers bit into Jareth’s muscular shoulder. “The entire pack is depending on you.”