The Broken Alpha
Holding his head high, he led the run back to the centre of the Blood Moon pack’s land.
* * *
It had been decimated.
Tears pricked at his eyes, but Atticus did not dare let them fall. He replaced the horror, the panic, the pain, with anger, and let it fuel him as he blinked away those few, shameful tears.
Their entire spring crop had been ripped from the soil and chewed and clawed at until it no longer resembled food. Their greenhouses had been smashed, their plants destroyed. They relied on their crops almost solely; few packs near Blood Moon encouraged trade relationships.