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Submitted: July 26, 2010
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Protectionby *Nashoba-Hostina

Anthro / Digital Media / Drawings

I saw on a documentary recently that some wolf researchers are dropping terms like “alpha” and replacing them with “breeding male or female.” However, we plan on still using the term. It’s easier that way… and besides, what I am to my pack just cannot be expressed in a simple word. Perhaps rather than Alpha, I could simply say that I am the leader. I have the most experience; I am the protector, and the pack is my responsibility. Sure, we still make decisions much like humans do… we use diplomacy. But when push comes to shove the pack will most often follow my lead. Especially the young ones.

But that also means that I often have to make the hard decisions in the interests of the pack. I knew some of them would inevitably crop up… but every full moon, I hoped no difficult choices would need to be made.

Unfortunately, tonight didn’t go my way.

It was a perfect night. The recent cold front had cooled the air, and the scent of the morning’s rain still lingered. I’ve heard humans say that the air after a rain smells “clean.” I can’t remember what it smelled like when I was human. But as a werewolf, I find that after a rain, odors smell saturated. Scents lingering in the earth rise into the air as the water evaporates; they blend and mix together. Sure, it muddies the various aromas, makes it difficult to pick pre-rain scents out from one another, but in a way it’s… beautiful. And it makes the freshest scents, the ones after the rain, stand out in stark contrast from the tie-dye of other aromas. After our Change, we all just took a moment, basking in the scents, sounds and comforts of the night.

Mist hung in the air, dampening our outer coats, and while the ground was soft under our paws, it wasn’t soft enough to leave prints, so long as we stayed away from the earthy banks of the river, keeping only to the rocky shores. But in the meantime there was playing to be done.

I know it may sound strange, werewolves playing… but it was how we tested one another, learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses. The ones who could leap the best but couldn’t run as fast made for great ambushers. Those who were the best at bowling down others would better knock a doe off of her feet. And we knew that the dashers were ideal for wearing prey down before we went in for the kill. And, most importantly, play helped strengthen our bonds, made us feel connected and whole as a unit, a pack.

But then… several of us caught a cracking sound, all at once. Everyone froze, our pelts standing out in stark contrasts in the moonlight. Whatever had made the noise had approached from downwind, so we hadn’t noticed any scent… but while the creature froze, the scent lingered, spreading, until we caught it, and I felt a lump of dread settle in my stomach. My god, it was human.

We spend our moonlit nights in a state park… everyone was supposed to be out of the woods by sunset. And until tonight, we had never encountered a human… but, there he was. I could tell the intruder was a male… young, based upon his scent. And he had an odd, dead-plant smell to him… oh great. A stoner. He must have decided that the woods were a safe place to get high. But while the word of a druggie was unlikely to be taken seriously… I knew that if he told anyone about seeing us out here, it would put all of our lives in danger. I glanced back at our newest addition. The fluffy young she-wolf looked up at me, and not knowing what to do, she waited for my signal, my decision.

The boy didn’t have a chance.

In one fluid movement, I sprung into motion, running on all fours until I reached the source of the boy’s scent and reared up onto my hind legs. Unfortunately… the boy was sober. He knew exactly what peril he was in, his eyes as wide as saucers as I roared… And with a swipe of my paw, I watched those eyes spin away from me, his neck making a crack that to my ears, was like thunder. Blood seeped from grievous wounds along his face and throat. It had been a quick death.

But my moment alone with the boy was quickly over. The other wolves of my pack gathered around the fallen, awaiting my signal. Those of us who had been around a while knew what had to be done. The younger ones hung back, uncertain. But, being the alpha… I had to make the first move. And I knew that the less evidence there was, the less likely we were to draw attention. With a snarl, I sunk my teeth into the remains, the still-warm blood running into my jaws.

We made short work of him, each eating their share. Usually, we converse over a kill, learning how each other was doing, sharing stories and ideas. But tonight, we ate in respectful silence, save for a growl or bark here and there. When there was as little flesh as possible left, we buried the clothes, and each of us spent multiple trips taking the bones to separate locations. We were perfectly able to clean the blood from our fur ourselves, but after, the rocky edges of the northern part of the river provided a safe place to clean off even further. We were rarely so meticulous… but this was a special case.

The evening was a quiet one, after that. No one played, and only the wind howled. We just gathered together in a heap of claws and fur, everyone touching everyone else. We usually enjoy our full moons, but this time, it was a blessing when dawn came. We gathered our clothes, and we went back to our separate, human lives.

The boy was on the evening news. He’d been a troublesome kid, spent some time in juvi, known for vandalism and drug use… but there were still people who had loved him, who were looking for him. And they would never find him.

I am an Alpha. I am the leader, and I protect my pack.

That evening, I wept until exhaustion gifted me the kindness of sleep.

... Happy Full Moon, everyone. This was sort of a picture of Mr. Smiley without the super pointy ears... and while the story is not Mr. Smiliey's, I needed to put it to something XD