Crying Wolf - 8. Chapter 8

Finn

‘What was I thinking? I really am an idiot.’

There was nothing to be done for it now. Finn figured it might work more in his favor if for now he made a tactical retreat. For the life of him he could not find sufficient reason for him to reveal himself as he had.

‘Not like I wasn’t failing miserably already.’

The Alpha had been something of a surprise to him, though not an unpleasant one. He’d wondered what kind of leader would create the kind of situation he’d wandered into. There was no way he’d be able to leave the one meant for him under the care of a weak ineffectual leader.

All the more surprising when she showed Finn he couldn’t have been more wrong. The elf must have been descended from the Elds, if he had to guess. Whoever she was, there was a story to be told there.

He could practically feel her scathing gaze like a physical touch against his skin. The Alpha had wasted no time in assessing him for the threat he was, and taking actions required to make him disappear.

For now something else came to his attention, faintly drifting on the breeze. Hackles rising, Finn sets off into the wild English wood. It seems that his markings of the previous night have not gone unnoticed. A myriad of scents is carried to him, far from being intimidated the York pack has gone on the offensive.

His fangs bared in a toothy snarl, the white wolf is all too ready to answer their call. From what he can tell, the Alpha has returned to the domain of her city walls. This was a chance to show her that he meant no ill will towards her pack. Quite the opposite in fact…

‘My threats were not idle, you stupid mutts.’

Circling back to the closest of his marks, he can tell that they had an early start. Even before he met with the elf in the woods near Leeds they set out in response to his marks. Switching into the offensive, he is careful of both his footfalls and making efforts to mask his presence. The hunt is truly on now.

Being unable to ascertain how far ahead of him they actually are, he takes every care to hide his predatory movements. Not an easy task when his fur stands out in such contrast to the surrounding greenery and his hulking size.

Finn furrows his nose into the detritus upon the forest floor. Taking in deep breaths, he analyzes the information left behind. There are six distinct scents, and a low growl of satisfaction gleefully escapes him. They came prepared for only him.

‘Need every one of them, too.’

Their scents are heavy with equal parts fear and aggression. Holding the false hope that numbers will be enough to intimidate him, the York pack rounded up some of their biggest and baddest to answer his calling card.

He could tell that they were prime males, strong and well kept. If he were any ordinary wolf, they would send him packing before running the chance of running into them. Unlucky thing for them though that they posed a definite threat to his mate and that was something that refused to let go unanswered.

All around him the woods croon with the buzz of insects and calls of birds. Next to no attention is sent his way as he ambles along. The giant wolf's focus is solely on the trail of the interlopers with nothing to spare for the woodland creatures.

‘They are growing brazen…’

From the patterns of their movements, perhaps they are not as clueless as he assumes. Finn reins in his surge of arrogance, and sets himself more seriously to the task at hand. One of the number one rules in this world was to act without thinking was to invite death. The black void to the right of him was a constant reminder.

‘It appears that they are still poking around for weaknesses in Leeds defenses… even while investigating my obvious presence. Are they really able to back up that kind of offensive? Or is this some kind of bluff?’

Finn slows his advancement, lifting his head to the sky. Ears swiveling back and forth, things to the north have gone noticeably quiet in comparison to the rest of the forest surrounding him. Nostrils flaring, the scents drifting downwind definitely strengthen.

‘That way. If I remain out of their detection, then I can surely gain the advantage. If they are retreating back to York, I have to put a stop to them. Or… they think they can find a weak point to attack Leeds.’

The birds in the treetops above his head are struck into silence by the menacing growl that rumbles deep in his belly. Fighting back the overwhelming instinctive bloodlust, Finn fights to retain control.

What remnants of human thought that linger yet in his brain wage war upon the primal urges. It was an unending inner struggle to keep a balance between the two. Fixated as it was on the proximity of their mate, Finn’s lupine urges reared to the fore with a fierceness.

Keeping the city situated on his right side, he was forced to pay the price of his blind spot. Somewhere… over there was the one who was meant for him.

‘I will come for you, have no doubt. Will you want for me as I yearn for you? Or will your eyes fill with fear…?’

Something about having the one he has come so far for look upon him with trepidation makes a cold chill shake his snowy fur with unease.

‘Concentrate. First take care of these interlopers who would threaten violence against our mate… and his pack too… Perhaps this way the elf will be in my debt…’

Finn’s lips lift in a snarling grin, amused by the notion.

‘I told you, Elf.’

He would be lying to himself if he said the thought of showing up the Alpha didn’t fill him with a sense of superiority. It was a dangerous line to tread, but her respect sure would not be won by a weak complacent creature. An elf inflicted by the curse of the Bitten will have seen her share of hardship.

Finn didn’t imagine that those of her kind would have taken kindly to harboring someone tainted. It would most certainly be seen as a mark of unbearable shame… and yet she appeared to be thriving in her own way. It was good that the pack was led by one so intimidating. That just meant he would have to go the proper lengths to impress her.

For hours, he shadows their trail through the wilds. Letting his hunter’s instinct take hold, the giant white wolf follows the flows of the wind. With great care, he keeps his presence concealed. Even as the sun tracks its way across the sky above, he stalks ever closer to his quarry.

Finally, it is during the late afternoon hours that he gains a visual on the unit that he’s so decisively sought. Still far off in the distance, his left eye catches upon movement… flashes of color disappearing into a stand of undergrowth. Brows drawing together in malicious glee, his pink tongue licks fangs with sweet anticipation.

‘Soon… in no time I will taste their warm blood filling my maw. If this is what it takes for York to learn then so be it. Let them send more. I dare them…’

Trailing onward and blending into the growing gloom of falling night… something else catches his attention. A presence… THE presence. Caught off guard, his head swings in the direction of the city even though the thick underbrush of the forest blocks his view.

From the direction of Leeds, beyond the great wall… even from here he can sense the aura of power that the elfen Alpha cannot quite seem to withhold…maybe she is even doing it on purpose to let it be known that her pack will not just simply roll over in submission.

Worthy of respect.

That wasn’t what drew him though, oh no… What ensnared him was the siren call of his mate… dripping with the familiar scent of wolf on the carrying wind. It was a wholly unexpected surprise. If Finn thought that the remnants of the charred oak were enthralling, that was nothing compared to having this precious new layer laid over his impression of his mate.

With renewed fervor, he sets back upon the trail of the invading York curs. He needed to make haste.

Now.