Big Bad Alphas
A stranger.
Swallowing, I take a step back. I have never run into a stranger before on my own, most likely because I have never been on my own in the forest away from pack lands, mine or Eric's.
On edge, I glance to my bag, preparing to make a run for it. The other wolf, dark brown and rather large, follows my eyes and figures out my quick plan. Without any other ideas, I push off from the dirt and swiftly scoop my bag up with my teeth before sprinting in the opposite direction without a second to spare. My mother always told me to stay away from strangers, though she calls them rogues along with everyone else. I prefer to call them strangers; the label "rogue" makes them seem dangerous. Usu