Rift. (Rewritten in 2010)

First Winter, Year Four (1st Moon)

First Alpha Mate Alex crying out First Alpha Wolfe Garron's name was the last thing that Jara felt like waking up to. He put the pillow over his head and tried desperately to crush out the sound of his alpha pair rutting in the next room. They were going to make him mad with lack of sleep or insane with jealousy. He got up and went to go bathe.

In the baths, he stroked his scars and thought about his mother and how far he'd come. Warm baths were a long way from frozen in the snow. And he remembered being frozen, remembered it well. Sometimes, he reflected, watching the shadows of the sunrise pass overhead, he still felt frozen. Jara shook the thought away and began to scrub himself.

When he got back from the baths, his vare and his alpha seemed to have slowed down, so he decided to take a quick nap before the little ones got up. When he woke again, the chrono read an hour after morning meal. It was a brilliant day already.

He wandered into the kitchens, seeking scraps from the earlier meal. He'd already missed the leaving-time for his work group, and the wee ones were all in classes, so he figured he'd have a meal and then catch up on more rest.

He poked his head uneasily around the wall of the kitchen entrance; he hated coming here in off-times. The place always seemed so busy and Jara felt entirely out of place. He clenched and unclenched his hands, squeezed his legs together as he stood to the side. For a moment, no one seemed to notice him; then, suddenly, a young wolfe in bare chest was standing in front of him, arms crossed and a spatula clasped in one hand.
"Need something, beta?"
Jara swallowed, slightly put off at being addressed so cooly. His eyes drifted to the wolfe's chest, then down to his own feet.
"Just - anything left? From morning meal?"
The wolfe scoffed.
"If you want it. Mal-chim and brok eggs went unfavored. Find it in the walkin."
"The...?"
"Walk in. Right over there."
Jara just blinked at him.
"It's the - hell, I'll take you."
The wolfe rushed off and Jara was almost left behind. As he trailed behind, he watched the sway of the wolfe's tail as it bobbed after him. He would never cease to be fascinated by those odd appendages - those wolfish bodies, so different from his own. He was lost in thoughts of this nature when suddenly a wall came up in front of him.
"Let's all keep our eyes open, why don't we?"
It wasn't a wall. Jara gingerly removed himself from the wolfe's bare back.
The wolfe was opening a door, heading into it. Jara followed, face red with embarrassment.
"Um, sorry."
"Don't be. You're quite soft. Didn't bother me a bit."
Jara made a face at the strange response.
"There, there, and there. Bowls are out - you know where to find them."
The wolfe turned to go and Jara breathed in the cool air of the coldroom. He went over to the brok eggs, picked up two and turned to see the wolfe leaning casually against the wall. He dropped both eggs. They bounced, and the wolfe caught them on the upswing.
"Graceful."
If Jara could turn any redder, he didn't want to know about it. The wolfe shook his head, redeposited the eggs, grinned at Jara, and left the room. Jara just felt like getting home.

+++++

First Winter, Year Four (2nd Moon)

The compound was tense; winter had been long and was not yet done. Long storms had kept the entirety of the population inside, with the exception of occasional winter work and afternoon hunts. Garron and Kriston took the opportunity to expand training time; all wolfes were now required to report five hours a day, with the exception of medical workers. Classes and work were pushed back into the evening. This meant, of course, that most of the general human population of the compound suddenly found themselves with a lot less to do.
Alex, unfortunately, was not one of these humans.
Waking slowly to a cold bed and the vaguest touch of the morning light, he rolled onto his back, scrubbed his eyes with one hand. The quarters had the subtle non-quiet of a house full of sleeping people - creaks as someone moved, got up, went back to sleep. Alex noticed that his hearing had gotten better since the pregnancy. Sometimes, he felt sure he could even discern heartbeats, but mostly he figured it was just his imagination.

Today would be a day much like the ones before; he ran his household well, and things moved smoothly, busy though they might be. The servants were doing a fine job of helping him with the litter, and he wasn't sure where he'd be without them. Jara hadn't been around much lately, too preoccupied, he assumed, with seeking out a mate, and so he'd been left with just Kaz for company, who, at four and a half months and with a litter of an estimated four pups, was in good spirits, but quickly tired.

Damon had begun to come around a bit in the past few weeks, but he seemed unanchored, always distracted, and at times, would lapse into bouts of melancholy that were impossible to bring him out of. Alex wasn't sure what had transpired - Damon had only told him that two of the pups were gone and that he didn't want to talk any further about it. Alex supposed their loss must have hit him hard. He thought about his brother, Nikolai. It had been so long...perhaps he would like to arrange for a visit? Maybe to see the litter. He'd missed seeing Nik's own, but they'd been born so soon after his arrival in ColdRiver, and Garron hadn't completely trusted him to be on his own just yet, so he'd been unable to make the journey. Nik assured him it was OK, but the guilt still lingered. Outside, the snow continued to fall as ColdRiver began its day.

+++++

Just one week more. Damon repeated this mantra to himself as he lay in bed, staring up at the ornately Wolfish ceiling.
One week more and he would have his children back.
One week more and they would be in his arms.
One week more and Kriston would forgive him for all he'd done.
One week more and he could forgive himself.
One week more.

It took a lot of effort not to think of what else might happen in one week more. There had been conversations between he and Kriston - many, whispered late at night so that no one even passing by might get the slightest glimpse of what they were talking about. It would be just a group raid, Kriston promised. It would be just his family. Things would be dirty, but simple. No one would get hurt. Damon felt in the pit of his stomach that this was a lie. Somebody always got hurt. But he believed in Kriston and he trusted his wolfe, so he agreed to the simplistic plan and watched every day for the sign that his family was back. He knew the rounds - created to appear random, but in fact governed by a complex set of mathematical laws that as yet, no outsider had ever learned. Damon refused to change that, told Kriston that he could not teach him the way to read their marks. Kriston had understood. Damon's eyes welled with tears. Kriston always understood. In another room, the rest of the litter began to wake, the familiar whimper-cries drifting in and disturbing his thoughts. Kriston would be wanting him to feed just now, if he were around to give orders, and his chest was aching anyway. He got out of bed himself, deciding to let the servants sleep.

+++++

It was halfway through the second moon. Kriston was up early, dressing silently in the dark. Damon still slept. He slid into clothing first - thick shirt and pants, tunic over it to keep warm. Shielding after that. He left his weapons. He wouldn't need weapons. He needed his mate. He looked over to the bed - Damon still slept. Kriston shouldered a pack and turned to go.

+

Kriston paced out a course for his troops in the snow. His paws were cool, damp with the melt, but not nearly affected enough to keep him from pressing on. His true wolfe thought idly about his mate and cubs - measuring distance, keeping an ear perked, planning a course by which he could always reach them, unwilling to stray too far from a newborn den.

With another part of himself, he contemplated the question that had been plaguing him since Damon had first come to him that evening. Would he betray his pack? Or would he betray his mate? He had given Damon his word not to speak on the whereabouts of the humans, but...the opportunity for a massive raid was almost too tempting to ignore. The winter had raised tensions high, and an influx of potential mates could do a lot to quell exasperated spirits.

Besides that, winter was such a time of danger for humans - scarce food and frozen water, harsh elements and wild predators pushed to the brink made survival difficult, and it was not unheard of to find their dead left out in the trees, the ground being too cold to dig into. Kriston would prefer to minimize the dual possibilities of human loss and wolfish dissatisfaction. He had a responsibility to tell Garron. He had a responsibility to help his mate. Kriston hit a branch, felt a brief twinge in his ankle, shook his fur and carried on, his pack coursing behind him like a river. He wished things could just be simpler. He wished he hadn't promised Damon his silence.

+

It all happened so fast that later, Kriston couldn't even remember what role he'd played - couldn't remember enough to tell his mate, assure him he'd done no harm, hurt no humans. He didn't even know himself. They went quietly, a team of twenty, spread out to flank and surround the group. Their fires were down, but their sentinels sat watch. The hunt would have to be silent.

The first guard did not put up a fight, just set down his weapon and calmly raised his arms in surrender. The second was not so simple. He panicked, shot three times into the air, and set off an alarm throughout the camp. Quicker than he anticipated humans could manage, lights went on and fires flared. Then there was shouting, running, and he had enough time to cast one look of fear at Garron before there was weapon fire and he saw through the smoke Garron give the signal and like beasts at a kill, the wolfes were attacking.
He hadn't meant for it to go like this.

Alyssa went unharmed - when they trapped her, she had Oz and Charlie strapped to her back and this made the wolfes snap and growl at her because they scented one of their own, but she stood her ground and for a moment, Kriston was back at the beginning, and he saw again the bright light he'd seen when Day had first stumbled his way into his life. The battle went on.
When the wolfish team finished, there was nothing left.

Thirty-four humans tied and ready for transfer to the wolfish life. Seventeen dead. Twenty-two injured, one critically. Damon's family hadn't been traveling alone. The group heard the signs of it - distant feet running and the low whoosh of air that meant they were using signal, not voice. Six wolfes turned their heads, tempted. Garron called them back. Later, he said. It was already a victory.

They put out the fires and Kriston made his way to the girl - already there was the excited whisper of a female and who would be the first to breed her. To her credit, to her blood, Alyssa did not look terrified. Kriston expected nothing else. He went calmly to her, stood in front of her where she knelt on the ground, tied to a tree, Oz and Charlie cradled in baskets beside her. He used every sense to check them over. His children were alright, but quick moves would startle them, frighten her. For now, they slept. She saw him, moved in front of them when he came. He knelt down and she recognized his face.
"You are the wolfe who fell in the woods."
Kriston nodded.
"You took my brother."
Kriston nodded. Alyssa bit her lip.
"He lives?"
Kriston smiled.
"Well."
"I expected you would kill him for his betrayal."
Kriston's smile disappeared and he shook his head.
"He did not betray us - he only wanted for his children what he wanted for himself."
Alyssa twisted her mouth in a half sneer.
"I meant his betrayal of us."
Kriston wanted to slap her face. He got to his feet, turned away.
"Wait! My wrists."
he ignored her.
"My wrists!"
she was insistent. The wolfe guarding her looked warily at Kriston, then Alyssa. Her eyes were round in her face. She looked innocent.
"Please...just loosen the ties."
Kriston met her eyes. He had not seen a female in many years. Her eyes were golden.
"Do it. One centimeter."
It was too much, or just enough rather - the wolfe guard was still leaning over her when she got enough space to reach his blade. She cut her wrists wide open.
The medics had already left. The guard was shouting and Garron was there instantaneously and they untied her and compressed her but she laughed when they hefted her onto their shoulders and began to run, went pale quickly in the rushing wind. She died with her fingers dangling in Kriston's fur.

+++++

Damon was pacing in the infirmary when Kriston returned, cradling Ozgür and Charlton easily in his arms. He saw them and took a step back, almost as if afraid to approach, until Kriston urged him over and offered him an infant. Oz squealed in his badi's hands, and Kriston saw real tears fall from Damon's eyes. The same eyes looked up, searching for his, suddenly remembering.
"My family?"
Kriston was rocking Charlton, taking small strides back and forth across the room. He met his mate's eyes.
"Seventeen dead. Fifty-five captured. Twenty-two injured, thirty-three unharmed."
Damon paused.
"My sister?"
Kriston stopped rocking Charlton, stood still in the middle of the room.
"She escaped."
Damon looked relieved. Kriston felt regret biting at him.
"She...likely did not make it, Damon. The woods in these parts are treacherous, especially for a human alone."
Damon shook his head, smiled a little.
"Alyssa is strong. She'll make it. She'll be OK."
Kriston didn't respond, just quietly reached out with his free hand to stroke Damon's face. His mate looked up at him adoringly.
"Thank you." he mouthed, not wanting to wake the infants. "Thank you."

+

Later, when the sun was up and hot and the litter was sleeping (all reunited now) and Damon had cried enough and asked about his uncles and cousins and great-uncle, and noonmeal had been brought and eaten, Kriston introduced a new topic.

"There are decisions to be made about what to do with your clan members, Damon."
Damon looked up apprehensively. Kriston went on.
"Only thirty-seven are viable; four of those will likely be kept here; the rest will go to TallTrees; there is a dire shortage of mates there, and problems are beginning to arise."
Damon stared blankly, unsure why Kriston was telling him this, except maybe to offer him time to say goodbye. Sorrow pricked his throat.
"Of the four who will be staying," Kriston was looking intently at him, "I can only allow two who are your blood."
Damon was prepared to challenge immediately.
"Why only two? Why not three, or four?"
Kriston moved one hand from the table to his thigh, bit his tongue to hide a smile at the return of the Damon he missed and loved.
"Too many of you could lead to rebellion, increase your chances of escape. It's two or none, Damon."
Damon scowled to himself. Perhaps if he had not so recently broken his wolfe's trust, this wouldn't be a valid point. But he had and it was, and so now it would have to be dealt with.
"One has already been selected. He is intended to mate Me'tanalith."
Metanalith. Damon knew the wolfe - a recent addition from Arem'mir; Kriston praised him incessantly as a faithful general, strong leader, powerful fighter. Damon remembered his as the wolfe who didn't speak much, but seemed tolerable enough; he was tall and thickly built, with a long scar running the length of his face's left side. When Kriston was away, he'd been the one who brought brief messages for Damon about his wellbeing. It would be interesting, Damon thought, to see who he had chosen as a mate.
"Who is meant to mate him?" he picked up his glass idly.
Kriston shrugged.
"A young human. The one with golden string braided into his hair." Damon stopped mid-sip.
"Zechariah?"
Kriston shrugged.
"He talks incessantly."
Damon nodded.
"The same." he put his glass down.
"Zechariah is my youngest cousin," he said firmly, "and he's not getting mated to anyone."

+++++

The next day, Damon reluctantly left Oz and Charlie in the care of the two youngest servants and went down with Kriston to the holding area where twenty-nine of the original group were being kept.
"What time is their transfer to TallTrees?"
Kriston shook his head.
"LongTrees, and sorry, pup, can't tell you that."
Damon scoffed in annoyance. Kriston looked at him.
"Consider it a compliment on your people's gift for subterfuge and escape."
Kriston nodded his head in greeting to the two guards who stepped aside, uncrossing their weapons from the main entry door. Damon sulked and glared at them. They exchanged looks and resumed their positions. Inside, Kriston led him down a series of hallways. Archways, at random intervals, Kriston explained, measured their progress and monitored any physiological changes, also noted their identity. The hall was dimly lit, but lined with bright-shining windows that led into warm-looking yellow-and-blue holding rooms, painted with large murals depicting scenes of wolfish life.
"I don't remember the holding cells looking like this." Damon remarked suspiciously.
"Well, darling, none of these lovely humans have tried individually to kill an alpha. They also haven't thrown bowls at the guards, broken a nurse's equipment, or insulted the intake worker."
Damon looked half chagrined, half proud.
"So, unlike your illustrious first day here, they haven't talked their way into a lower level holding pen - at least, not yet."
Kriston smiled at his mate to let him know that it was all in jest, but Damon was already preoccupied with looking into a room, face pressed to the glass, eyes wide with excitement.

+++++

Zechariah was sitting with his back to the door, quietly perusing a book, his long brown legs stretched out on the soft-looking bed in front of him. The clothes he wore, dark red wolfish robes a bit loose on him, were pushed up to his thighs, barely draped over them for decency. Kriston had guessed that he was about 18, from the lingering awkwardness in his movements and the youthfulness of his face. He had dark hair, to his shoulders in thin twists with gold thread and ribbon interspersed, and sweet, round brown eyes, with a small straight nose and full lips that made his face look young, sweet, and perfectly balanced. Kriston noted that his skin still bore a bluish tint, evidence of a recent arrival from the underground. Zechariah leaned languorously back against the wall behind the bed, and a pile of clothes and a few empty cups and dishes littered the floor.
"Zech!"
at the sound of his name, he turned, jumping up and letting out a cry of surprise when he saw Damon. He ran over and hugged his cousin.
"Damon! What are you doing here?"
Damon paused.
"I live here, Zech."
"Oh."
"Yes. Zech, are you OK?"
Damon's eyes raced over him, his fingers fluttered over shoulders, arms, chest, pushing the robe aside to check all over for injuries.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just scratches, but the wolfes healed me all up. Are you OK?"
Damon nodded.
"I'm fine." He drew Zechariah into a hug again. "Oh, man, is it good to see you."
Zechariah smiled, then looked past him, to the wolfe still lingering by the door.
"They gave you a guard, too, huh? Ask him to bring us some hunna to celebrate our reunion."
Damon frowned.
"He's my husband, not a guard, and no, you don't need any hunna - have you been drinking hunna?"
Zechariah blinked at him.
"He's your husband?"
Damon nodded warily. Concern, then amazement dawned on Zech's face.
"So they really were serious!"
Damon raised an eyebrow.
"Who? About what?"
Zech wandered over to the bed he'd been lying on and began rifling around for something.
"The nurses who came in. They explained to me why I was here. They said that..." Zech pulled the covers back, felt all around the mattress, and kept looking. "That I was safe, and they were my friends, and that I could go outside anytime I wanted to - outside, Damon, with the sun! But I went, and it was too cold, so I'm in here - and that this is my home now, and that there was a wolfe who lived here who wanted me to be his mate."
Zechariah finished calmly, Damon thought this over; Zechariah's reaction to finding himself in the compound had been so different than his own; he'd been kicking and screaming the entire way. Zech barely seemed perturbed. But he was young, even younger than Damon had been when he'd come here, and at least Zechariah had the support of having his family here, for a while, at least. Certainly, things must be easier on him. But still, the stress of the attack...Zech suddenly produced something from between the wall and his bed with a flourish. He held it out to Damon. Day took it from him and examined it in his hands. It was a small braided animal pelt.
"He gave me this."
Damon was suspicious immediately.
"Who did?"
"Metabaliff. He's the wolfe who came to see me. He said that he was honored to meet me, and that I was handsome, and that he's going to be my mate." Damon snapped around to look scathingly at Kriston. The wolfe wriggled his nose and looked anxious.
"He was wrong." Damon said quickly. "It was a mistake." Zechariah's face fell. Damon rolled his eyes. "About him being your mate, I mean. You're still handsome as ever." Zech looked happy again and Damon grinned a little at his cousin's vanity. Kriston suddenly appeared at his mate's side, attention directed on the younger human in front of him.
"And how would you feel about that, Zechariah? If it was not a mistake?"
Zechariah glanced at the wolfe, looking confused.
"About what - about mating with Metabaliff?"
"Me'tanalith." Kriston corrected slowly.
Damon shook his head, stepped between his cousin and his mate.
"Doesn't matter. He's my cousin," he growled, "under my care, and he is not getting mated to anyone."
Kriston looked coolly over his mate and returned his gaze to Zechariah, who was looking for direction from Damon.
"He is under your authority and I am your alpha; he is therefore under my dominion, and I will see to efforts of his welfare, not you."
Damon's brow came together in a serious frown.
"I don't give a damn what your dominion is." Kriston bristled. "He's not getting mated. He's human and he's young and he's like my little brother. I am taking care of him."
Kriston blinked calmly at Damon.
"And, Damon, how judicious have you proven yourself when it comes to caring for anyone?"
Damon was entrenched in confusion for a moment - his mate couldn't have been implying - no, he was sure that Kriston would not have said - not about the litter, no, but he had. The confusion lifted and the awful certainty that Kriston had said it, had meant it, and probably really believed it was there. His cheeks burned; his heart ached. He hadn't meant to hurt his litter; he'd just been doing what he thought was best - of course he loved them! That was why he'd sent them with Alyssa in the first place, but now she was gone and his family was captured and it kind of had all happened at his silly discretion, but he'd done his best, hadn't he? And it could be fixed, it could all be fixed. It was only a mistake, just a mistake, and Kriston couldn't possibly not forgive him for mistakes, could he? Did his mate not even trust him now? Would he take his litter away? Damon's stomach roiled at the thought. He couldn't think about the puppies right now. He couldn't think about his family, not Alyssa who was alone in the underground somewhere in the world or his elders to whom he was afraid to show his face, or his mate who suddenly hated him. He could think about Zechariah. Zechariah was staring at him worriedly. Kriston even looked concerned. Damon realized he'd been silent a very long time. He tried to swallow, but couldn't make his heart stop pounding. He wanted to go home and lay in bed and cry. Zechariah was watching him, twisting the braid Me'tanalith had given him between two fingers in his left hand.
"No."
Kriston furrowed his brow, didn't understand. Damon wanted to make him understand.
"No, you can't make him do this."
The wolfe sighed.
"Damon, be reasonable. Viable mates cannot go unchartered. These are desperate times, now. The winter is cold. My pack is already dissatisfied by the coalition sent to LongTrees."
Damon shook his head.
"No."
"And you know that he will not be unkindly treated. Me'tanalith will spoil him."
"No."
"The wolfe is a fine warrior with a strong alpha nature and many accolades on his position; Zechariah will live a well-cared-for life."
"I don't care - no. Never."
"Alright, Damon. That's enough." Kriston's voice was firm, his alpha nature beginning to rise. Damon ignored it.
"No, it's not enough! You can't just take control of his life and take it away like that! You won't do it to him! You won't! You can't steal him from his home, and take away his family and lock him up and hurt him, and keep him for your plaything and make him breed like he has no wants and no desires and no plans of his own and no feelings! You can't do that to him, Kriston, not like you did it to me!"
Zechariah and Kriston were both staring at him now. Damon tried to breathe evenly, tried to make his chest stop heaving. He couldn't; he was crying. Then his mate's arms were around him, and he was pressed into his chest, and Zechariah joined in and laid his head on Damon's back.
"Little one," Kriston spoke softly to him, and Damon realized that it had been forever since his wolfe had called him that, "do you really think that is what I did to you?"
Damon shook his head, tears coming freely now.
"Please don't take my litter away, Alpha, I'm sorry."
"No, Damon." Kriston squeezed him tighter. "I'm sorry."
"I didn't mean to lose anyone, I didn't mean to ruin it, can't you please just let them go? Let them go, please?"
Kriston flicked his ears back. Damon wasn't making any sense - hysteria. Kriston tried to calm him down, get him to breathe; made soothing noises and stroked his hair. Zechariah joined in, squeezing Damon's hand.
"Don't cry, Daydee. I promise I'll be OK. I can get mated and I'll be happy and then the uncles and I can live here with you."
This just seemed to make Damon cry harder and Kriston realized that maybe his mate was under much greater stress than it had originally seemed. He motioned to Zechariah to come with him and together, they took Damon home.

+++++

Zechariah lounged on the wide couch across from Damon and Kriston's bed, flipping through wolfish books while his cousin's litter nursed noisily.
"So what are we going to do for dinner, Daydee?"
Damon glared at Kriston.
"We are doing nothing. You and I will dine here while Kriston begins working on extricating you from your...engagement."
Kriston looked up from a transparent data sheet he was looking over.
"Can't be done. Pact's made." he chewed idly on the end of a quill.
"Well, unmake it." Damon hissed and the cub at his chest made a sound of distress. He quieted his voice and glared at Kriston, who leaned slightly back in his chair, and looked generally unconcerned.
"Damon. Love. I have to discuss this information with the elders in an hour. Perhaps we could talk about this later, after Me'tanalith comes to collect Zechariah tonight."
Damon's eyes filled with fire.
"After what?"
Kriston grinned around the quill in his mouth.
"Only joking, Day."
From the crib beside the bed, one of the litter began to cry and a servant rushed in to pick him up. Day separated the cub he'd been holding, the last of the lot, from his chest and set him lovingly down beside his brothers. The servant, a young human, called for assistance and two others appeared to help him roll the crib back into the nursery.
"We'll be in the sitting room, First Alpha Mate Damon."
Day nodded, let them leave before turning his attention back to Kriston.
"I'm serious, Kriston. He's too young and he's got other things that are"
Kriston sighed, set down the sheet, giving up altogether on being able to read in peace.
"And what would you have me do, Damon? Me'tanalith is one of my best fighters, most revered leaders and most successful generals. He is born and bred of Arem'mir; he adheres to our laws and customs wholeheartedly and he expects the same. He is aging now; after his performance in the last battle, to give him any less than a mate would be an insult. Should I insult my general and turn the favor of my legions? Perhaps, then, you would like to live an exile's existence with six cubs to raise in the woods alone?"
Zechariah was looking on with amused interest. Damon felt his face get hot.
"I don't care how you handle it. I don't care what you promise him in exchange - "
"Another of your cousins, perhaps? Pick one; give me a name and I'll see it done."
Damon looked horrified.
"Kriston - "
"Give me a reasonable alternative, Day, and I'll consider the alteration."
Zechariah looked anxiously at Damon. His cousin's eyes were dark and his anger was simmering just beneath the surface. His voice was low.
"Kriston?" The wolfe raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. "Haven't I lost enough family already?"
The wolfe's breath stuck in his throat - did Damon know? How could he? The panic passed. Of course. The others. There were others. Kriston blinked hard to clear his head. He stepped closer to Damon.
"I love you, mate. Your family is my own. Zechariah will be safe with Me'tanalith. Of that, I am sure."
Damon shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced over at Zech, who was now enraptured with a picture book of Wolvish traditions.
"He's so young, Kriston."
The wolfe raised a hand to stroke his beta's face.
"I know."
Damon snapped his eyes back to his mate.
"Give him a courtship."
Kriston cocked his head.
"I'm sorry?"
"That's what it is; that's what you call it, isn't it? In the wolfish way? A time to gain the approval of friends, of family, of the intended. It's sacred, isn't it? Part of the process."
"Things are different. Time is limited. There is a shortage of mates and many clamor for access." Kriston paused. "And there are other factors."
"Oh? Like what?"
Kriston looked mildly embarrassed.
"Well, I promised him."
"So Zechariah should suffer the indignity of a stolen mate because your mouth got the better of you." Kris made a sound in his throat a cross between a growl and a grunt. Damon pressed on. "I thought that wolfes weren't like that anymore - I thought that the urgency was over. Civilized, you told me, moved on from the old ways. You said you had a system for doing these things now, that it wouldn't ever be again like it was for me and Alexei."
Damon's voice was growing desperate. Kriston began to feel very sorry for his little mate. How tired the human must be, but still he fought for his kin. Well, Kriston decided, time to put a stop to it.
With wolfish speed, he snatched both of Damon's wrists into one large hand, stilling his movements.
"Damon!" he leaned close, his voice lowered to a growl. "Zechariah goes to Me'tan. There is no further discussion of that."
Damon narrowed his eyes and snatched one wrist away. Spurred on by his mate's domineering, he leaned in close to speak darkly to Kriston.
"I don't know who you've mistaken me for, Alpha, but I am still the man whose blade nearly took your life in the forest. Do not forget that fact."
Kriston looked hard at Damon.
"Do I hear a threat in your voice as you speak to your alpha?"
Damon would have bared his teeth if he'd been wolfish.
"I'll repeat myself if that makes it clearer."
Kriston growled, low, which made Zechariah move to get to his feet. Damon raised a hand to hold him still. The wolfe stared into his mate's eyes.
"He gets a courtship. Two moons. No more."
Damon felt relief wash through him.
"Fine, wolfe. Two moons."
"No more." Kriston repeated. Damon rolled his eyes and agreed.
"No more."

+++++

Kriston couldn't seem to locate Me'tanalith before his meeting with the elders, so he toiled through that then went off to search for him in the training rooms where he spent most of his time. Sure enough, the wolfe was there, leading a group of younger soldiers in a shifting lesson that involved the complex use of weapons, claws and teeth. The corner of Kriston's mouth quirked up a bit; this lesson had been by far his hardest one to learn as a youth - how to shift mid-fight, control the bloodlust and urges well enough and strongly so as just to strike once, then return bipedal. He had suffered greatly under the strict old teacher he'd had, and although the old wolfe had now gone to stars, he still had the scar to remind him. Me'tanalith pricked his right ear towards the door and Kriston knew he'd been noticed. He stepped fully into the room. The seventeen youth, who had been well focused until then, broke formation almost immediately with surprise. He looked sternly at them.
"Maintain control of your mind. No distraction should cause such disarray. If we were in battle, I'd have led you all to your deaths just now."
The young wolfes looked well admonished, returned to their positions. Me'tanalith nodded to them.
"Again. From the beginning. Two on three, twice through."
As the youth began their practice, Me'tanalith turned to Kriston and inclined his head.
"You need me, my Alpha?"
Kriston half-smiled.
"Just for conversation, General. May we walk outside for a while?"
Me'tanalith nodded, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure that his class was obedient.

Outside, they headed towards the south fields, walking in silence for a few moments until Kriston broke it.
"This meeting is about Zechariah."
Me'tanalith looked askance at his alpha with surprise before returning to his usual stoic demeanor.
"My mate."
"...yes."
"Is he alright?"
"Yes, he's fine."
"He wasn't in his holding room this morning."
"Right. Well, about that - "
"Where is he?"
"He was with me."
Me'tanalith stopped walking. Kriston felt his mouth get dry. He looked out over the snowy fields instead of at the wolfe in front of him, who was waiting patiently for explanations or expansions.
"As you know, Zechariah is my mate Damon's young cousin."
Me'tanalith inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Damon is a bit concerned about...the speed of the bonding process."
Me'tanalith didn't respond for a moment.
"He does not want me to have him."
"No, no, it's not that, no. It's just that -" Kriston sighed, scratched at one arm. "Honestly, Me'tan, you are my best warrior. You're a brilliant general, stellar commander, and I assure you you'll have a place on the elder's council. I am...sorry to have to ask you this, but my mate has claimed possession of Zechariah as his charge. He wants to have you court him."
Me'tanalith lifted both eyebrows.
"Certainly, I understand if you feel it's unnecessary, and truth be told, I think I've perhaps indulged Damon a bit much to even allow his protests to get this far, but if you don't - "
"I am already courting him."
Kriston paused, frowned.
"I'm sorry?"
Me'tanalith shook his head.
"Zechariah is intended to be my mate. I am no young wolfe. I would never disrespect him, or the desires of his family. It is not our way on Arem'mir. He is young, and only recently introduced to our world. I do not wish to frighten or abuse him. Your mate is wise in this, First Alpha. Let him stay with you for the time being, and I will court him as I would a mate on Arem."
Kriston looked with surprised relief at his friend, his general, his brother-in-arms.
"I will be honored, Me'tanalith, to have you in my family line. Whatever the outcome," he said slowly, looking evenly at the wolfe, "of your courtship, I assure you - that will be the result."
Me'tanalith cocked his head in interest.
"I assure you it will not come to that, First Alpha Wolfe. But I thank you all the same."

+++++

Jara was interested in work, he told himself - that's all. His work schedule was up for review and he'd decided he wanted to do something different with his time. He liked food. He could work with food. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, didn't any citizen have a right to pursue whatever career path he wanted? Well, besides warrior. His alpha would never let him be a warrior. Garron was too traditional for that - betas are too important, he'd say, too precious to risk in silly battles. Especially now that the need was nowhere near so dire. Let us do the work, he'd say, let us care for you. Jara rolled his eyes. He knew in his heart that he was a better survivor than most wolfes he'd met, but that didn't seem to change the facts in his alpha's eyes. Crap. He was at the kitchens already. Geez, hadn't he just left his room? Had to pay better attention, stop daydreaming so much. OK, he could do this - just walk in there, ask to speak to whoever was in charge, put in an interest form and bam! Be out of there in no time. That wolfe probably wasn't even here, anyway.
" - so if you're going to be on chef staff, you've got to - oh. Hello. One more, I see."
OK. So he was here. And he was doing the orientation. That was sort of the opposite of what he'd expected, but if he turned and bolted now, it'd look too obvious. He had to fight down the urge anyway.
"Erm, hi."
"Come, sit with us."
The wolfe had that arrogant smile that Jara had seen before; his eyes, deep brown but ringed with silver, eyes which always seemed to be dancing with laughter and full of secrets, looked particularly bright now. His hair, curly and night-black, was tied back in a braid, slung casually over one broad shoulder. Jara remembered the tightness of those shoulders, the alluring scent of his skin...from when he'd run into him. What an embarrassing way to become acquainted. The wolfe was perched on a table, one foot on the bench attached, another dangling to the side. His thighs were flexed, and Jara briefly found the interplay of muscle in them fascinating. His skin was smooth and dark, hands - OK, enough. Jara blinked once, hard, and tried not to look at him. Thoughts like that were only going to get him in trouble.
"Right, you know what? I think I've actually - "
"No, right place. Kitchen interest? Have a seat. Here, next to Huron. He's friendly enough, aren't you, Huron?"
Huron, a chirpy looking little human with olive skin and blue eyes, nodded gleefully, clearly delighted at having been singled out for the wolfe's attention. Jara made a quiet sound of disgust in his throat. So it seemed he wasn't the only beta interested in the chef. Great. Now he got to feel like an idiot on top of it. He sighed. He should have taken his badi's advice, and had a quiet day in bed.

+++

They started off with a safety intro, then it was a tour of the facilities and an overview of the equipment. A second wolfe took over this part, and Jara's wolfe lagged behind, bumping gently into Jara as he passed.
"You taking notes, new one?"
Jara narrowed his eyes. The wolfe's eyes twinkled in response.
"You know, everything we say is very important here, new."
Jara rolled his eyes.
"It's Jara. And no, I'm not. I can remember on my own."
"What was that first part?"
"Jara. My name. It's Jara. Or Ryce."
"OK." the wolfe grinned. "Nice to meet you, JaraOrRyce."
Jara rolled his eyes. Suddenly the wolfe was distracted again, dodging around him to talk to someone else.
"Huron. Sweetheart. Let's be careful with that piece right, there, shall we? It's quite heavy and pretty easy to break."
Jara glanced over to see the wolfe gently easing something out of Huron's hands, his body wrapped entirely around the other beta's and both grinning. Jara rolled his eyes. This whole thing had become a mess of a morning.
"You paying attention, Jara?"
he snapped his eyes up to the front, where the second wolfe - who introduced himself as Zo'amirac (Zo' for short) was dangling a utensil from his right hand, looking sternly at Jara.
"Let's spend a bit more time getting acquainted with the equipment, and a bit less getting acquainted with Semmelin's antics. What's this, Jara?"
Jara sighed. So that was the wolfe's name. Semmelin. Behind him, Semmelin released Huron and gave Zo' a nasty glare.
"Fish knife, used for fillet slices."
Zo' put it down, smiling at Jara as he did so.
"Very good. Moving on."

+++

"That wasn't nice."
Zo' rolled his eyes.
"Don't give me the song and dance, Semmelin."
"How did you know his name?"
"He introduced himself earlier, when they all did. You'd know, too, if you hadn't been so wrapped up in flirting with the smartest beta on the planet."
"I've asked you not to call him that."
"Huron's an idiot."
"I know, I like it that way."
Zo' shook his head, went back to putting cutlery away in its proper places.
"And you say I'm the mean one."
"You've no right to do what you're doing to him."
Pots clattered as he stacked them in piles.
"And what am I doing to him? All I did was call his name."
"You make them all hopeless over you."
Zo' laughed from beneath a cutting table.
"Can't help what the moon has given me."
Semmelin frowned, made a fist with his hand.
"You know I wanted him. I saw him first."
"Well, you seemed pretty preoccupied to me. Why not share the wealth? Besides, I've already asked him to shadow me at this night's meal. First squires to first on the field."
Semmel's jaw dropped.
"Clever ec'thanith."
"Watch your mouth or I'll bed him tonight."
Semmel's eyes got dark.
"Don't you dare."
Zo' smiled wolfishly, tossed a washing cloth over his shoulder.
"I'll make sure I treat him well for you."
Semmelin growled and Zo'amirac held his hands up, laughing.
"Only joking, wolfe. Calm your nerves." he glanced at the chrono on the wall.
"Come. Training time. Got to get prepped out for it."
Zo' led the way out of the kitchen, and a sulky Semmelin lagged behind.

+++++

For dinner that night, Damon followed his cousin down into the long hallways to the upper level holding rooms. His family had been split into thirty different rooms, but they reconvened for the meal in his uncle's cell, eschewing the invitation of the wolfes to dine in the main hall. Zechariah was expected to join them. Damon was not. Damon's heart pounded in his chest as they passed the first archway. How much of their situation did they know? How much did they blame him? He tried to calm his heart as they passed the second archway and turned left. Two guards inclined their heads to him. He inclined back. Zechariah glanced at him, then kept on just a little while farther, passing door after door before stopping outside room #32. Zech raised his hand to knock, then turned to Damon.
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
Damon swallowed.
"Go."

It wasn't as bad as he'd expected. It actually managed to be even worse. Everyone turned to look when the door opened. His family all smiled to see Zechariah, then hesitated, checked each other when they got to him. His cousin Ray, who he'd known like a brother, turned away from him. All around the room, conversations silenced, laughter stilled, movement shriveled up and died.
"And who is this, Zechariah? Who is your guest?"

His uncle Tem, the eldest, the patriarch and commander, stepped forward as he spoke. Around the room, Damon saw faces; his cousins and half-fathers, friends, uncles. Family. Home. He wanted to bury his face and forget everything that had ever happened. Zechariah looked cautiously to his left, gauging Damon's reaction, then silently knelt before Tem. Damon dropped down as well.
"Grandfather," he said softly, using the formal address, "Don't be unkind."
Tem strolled up to his nephews.
"Hello, Damon. How are you liking your new life?"
Tem looked as if he expected an answer. Damon bowed his head.
"I've been treated well, Grandfather."
Damon bit his lip.
"Yes, we can see that, Damon. Look at how nicely you've filled out. And your hair's grown thick, good sun-color is in your skin - I'd say you've been treated like a pampered whore."
Damon had known it was going to come and had prepared himself for it, but it still stung.
"There is no reward for treachery when this life is done."
"Grandfather, I am sorry, I - "
"There is no room for apology between us."
Damon fell silent. Tem stood over him, hands clasped behind his back.
"Your father is dead, Damon."
Damon jerked a little at this news, but kept his head down. Tears forced their way forward from his eyes.
"How many more of us is it in your heart to kill? How many more should die as you come to heel for your wolfe lover, Damon?"
"Grandfather." Zechariah's voice was quiet.
Tem stared down at Damon's bowed and braided head for a long, long minute.
"Alyssa is dead, Damon."
Damon's head snapped up.
"What?"
"The wolfes killed her."
Confusion, then horror spread all over Damon's face. Tem's voice trembled, although his visage was stony.
"Ask your wolfe, Damon, your precious wolfe. She bled out on your husband's back."
Damon looked up, heart aching, feeling helpless to protest, to tell different, to make something unhappen that he wasn't sure...but certainly not Alyssa...

Damon didn't anticipate the blow; his head snapped sideways and he saw stars. Calmly, Tem reclasped his hands.
"You can go, Damon. The wolfe is your family now."

+++++

Jara appeared in the kitchens a little before the evening meal, his hair pulled back into a neat braid, dressed and ready for work. The wolfe Semmelin greeted him in the hall, leaning faux-casually against the doorframe of one of the rear kitchen entrances.
"Oh, hey."
Jara glanced to the side to be sure he wasn't talking to someone else. He smoothed his apron and gave a little wave.
"Hi."
"You ready to work?"
Jara frowned for a second in confusion.
"I thought Zoom was going to be teaching me."
Semmelin's face looked strained.
"He was indisposed. I'm taking over your training now. Come on, let's get started."
Jara raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question his good fortune and followed the wolfe on into the kitchen, doing his best to avoid running into his back again. Inside, dozens of young wolfes and at least forty humans of various ages were rushing around, carrying pots, cleaning up messes, adjusting stoves and fires, and generally working hard to prepare the night meal for the pack.

Semmelin gave him a brief review of common tools and their places in the kitchen, and was just about to lead him over to the walk-in when a voice rang out above the clattering of pots and they both turned to see Zo'amirac standing in the doorway, a delighted-looking human at his side.
"Semmelin! Jara! Great to see you so busy! Look who I found at his home with nothing to do for the next few hours! Hope we're not too late to join the party!"
Jara thought he saw Semmelin blanche a little, but he was sure it was just his imagination. Zo'amirac approached, Huron trailing behind, and the air in the room suddenly felt oddly tense. Jara glanced over the other human, whose t-shirt fit unnecessarily well and whose hair was excessively handsomely combed, and felt foolish for being here all over again. Semmelin was staring unblinking at his friend.
"Not at all. You're right on time. I was just going to start with working in the walk-in."
Zoom rubbed his hands together and his eyes lit up.
"Excellent! Huron's been dying to get some new lessons, and you can show him inventory. You're very good at counting, aren't you, Huron?"
Huron, possessor of the perfect curly hair and big blue eyes, nodded gleefully. Jara rubbed his scar.
"Wonderful, and you won't even have to go higher than forty. So I'll take Jara over to the wash rooms and you can follow along after Semmel."
Jara politely diverted his eyes as Huron stuck one hand coquettishly into the loops of Semmel's apron strings. Semmel glowered at Zo'amir. Zo'amir pretended not to notice.
"Alright, well, we'll see you at the meal after." he took Jara's hand to lead him off. "Have fun! Teach well! Don't ever try to cross me or take what's mine again!"
Semmel simmered, licked his teeth and turned to the sweet, dumb human to whom he was currently attached.
"Alright, Huron, very well. Let's go get some boxes counted."

+++++

The wolfe had been close all night. Too close. Frighteningly close. Close enough to smell his woody scent, feel the brush of his tail against the back of Jara's knees and the pressure of the heat of his hands' touch. While showing Jara how to carefully handle the more delicate dessert glasses, he'd slipped his tail between Jara's legs, brushing ever-so-slightly at his inner thighs, at which point Jara had jumped and almost dropped one.
"Whoops." he'd said, so innocently, but the smile on his face had gone full wolfe. Jara kept his legs closed for the rest of the washing.

In addition to the tail swipes, Zoom had taken every opportunity to ask everything he could about who Jara was, where he'd come from, how he felt about living with wolfes, and subtle questions about his age and activity that indicated a clear curiosity about whether or not he was fertile. It had all been a bit intimidating, and even frightening at first, but the longer it began to go on, the less worrisome it seemed. Zoom was, Jara decided, simply a courageous flirt. Nothing more, nothing less, and he deserved no special attention because of it. He began to relax a little in the conversation, even bantering with Zoom a bit when he asked, flirtatiously, whether Jara thought dark hair was a sign of virility.

Once, when the wolfe was busy looking away, stacking wet dishes into crates to be moved to the dish room for drying and storage, Jara was able to get his first non-secretive look at him. The wolfe was tall, taller than Semmelin, well- built, if a bit thin for a wolfe, and raven-haired with grey eyes. Nothing about him particularly struck Jara as outstandingly attractive, but his unshakeable confidence and assured poise gave him an air of control that was both relaxing and exhilarating. Jara was mulling over this new possibility when what felt like half a cup of water hit him on the side of his face. He blinked twice in shock and realized Zo'amir was watching him mischievously.
"Didn't your badi ever tell you not to stare?"
Jara, both amused and embarrassed, decided the best course of action would be to scoop as much of the dishwater as he could manage in two hands and get the wolfe wet right back. Zoom laughed and dodged the first splash, but not the second, or the third, and suddenly he dodged such that they were very close to each other and Jara felt his mouth taken up in a kiss. He pulled back immediately, more out of shock than dislike, took four steps back, and put one hand to his mouth.
"What - what are you doing?"
Zoom smiled, that beautiful, dangerous wolfish smile again and stalked closer.
"Would you like to try that again, little one?"
Jara felt his cock stir, but good sense overruled it.
"No. No, wait, hold on a minute."
Zoom stopped where he was, obediently, and waited.
"I just - I don't - I mean, I like Semmelin."
Zoom shrugged.
"You don't know us both yet. When you get a little closer, I assure you that will change." he resumed stalking.
"Wait! No, wait, I mean - I - Zo'am, there are people watching."
"Let them watch."
Jara took another step back, his hands up in front of himself to ward off the wolfe.
"Zoom, please - "
"It's just a kiss, Jara." his voice was so firm, so gentle, and so sincere and calm that Jara felt himself relax immediately. The wolfe closed the gap between them. "It's just a kiss." Jara nodded and Zo'am's mouth made quick contact with his. It was at that delightfully public moment that Huron appeared.
"Zo'am?"
Jara leapt backwards and turned to hide his face. He could feel himself reddening. Footsteps fell behind him, as Huron approached Zo'amir with a perfect mixture of shyness and eagerness that Jara knew he would look like a fool trying to imitate.
"Semmelin says he's not sure how to work the mixers for the morning meal bread, but I'm supposed to work the next morning shift, and so I wondered if maybe you could show me?"
He blinked pretty eyes like the ocean up at Zo'amir. Jara rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. Zoom gritted his teeth for a half a second and half-bowed cordially to Huron.
"It would be my pleasure. If you could just give us one moment - "
but by the time he'd turned, Jara was gone, scampering off into the dish room with a crate and a worried look on his face. In his head, Zo'am swore.
"Alright, nevermind. Come, dear Huron, follow me into the bread room, and let me teach you the ways of the mixing machine."

+++++

First Winter, Year Four (3rd Moon)

"And what did you learn today, Zechariah?"
Zech picked at his plate, pushed a few vegetables around with his fork.
"Never tell a wolfe what we talk about in the baths."
Alex kicked him under the table. Zechariah looked up, concerned.
"What?! It's what you said! You said it was a rule."
Alexei rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in Zechariah's direction.
"Yes. And you don't think that sentence counts?"
Garron furrowed his brow. Alex patted his hand and tried to look innocent.
"He's young, he's just talking, he doesn't know what about."

Zechariah pouted. He had been following Alexei around for four consecutive days now, and he was getting tired of it. Kriston had been busy with work, and Damon had begged and cried that he needed some time off, just a few days away from everyone and the litter. He'd said, not very subtly, Zech thought, that Alex keeping Zechariah occupied would really help him out. So, being a good friend and pack member, Alex had dutifully taken Zechariah in for a weeklong home visit, under the auspices of teaching him the ways of a ColdRiver beta.
Garron did not seem pleased.

"I don't think you've taught him anything at all." he complained to Alex, stroking Malik's hair idly with one hand while the boy lay stretched out on his lap. "He still cannot dress himself in the proper wolfe robes, he doesn't know the days of festivals by heart, he doesn't appear to be able to speak calmly to anyone, I don't think he's eager to carry a lit, and he frequently forgets the appropriate forms of address to a wolfe of a far higher standing than he is." at this last bit, Garron eyed Zech strongly, then went on. "You haven't taught him any sort of skill that I can recognize - "
"Not true! He taught me how to mix drinks."
Alexei gave him a freezing glare and Zech immediately shut up.
"He hasn't been harvesting, doesn't want to train for the clinic, and he burned my meat twice trying to cook it, which I didn't even ask him to do. I eat raw meat. Why is he always trying to cook it? Max is a much better beta than Zech is, and he's only thirteen. You're not doing poor Zechariah justice, I don't think."
Zechariah and Alex both looked appropriately put out. Max beamed.
"It's an ongoing process, Garron. Zech is learning day by day. It takes time, you know, he can't just pick it all up at once. And it's not as if you would have ever noticed his progress anyway, with how often you've been out."
Garron's ears pricked up, then back.
"I am the Alpha of this pack, Alex, and in addition, I've been spending time with my sons."
"Not the human ones."
Garron's eyes glinted annoyance.
"I'm sorry, love, but I've been preparing the cubs for training. It is essential that the wolfes who carry my name be recognized early on as good fighters. My honor is dependent on theirs. We've been under a strict regime. Perhaps you should consider the same."
"Are you implying I am an unfit badi?"
Garron rolled his eyes.
"Kitten, please. I didn't mean that and you know it. I'm growing tired of this self-indulgent behavior."
Alexei shrugged off the hand which went to his arm.
"You never had any complaints about my behavior before."
Garron's eyes darkened.
"I remember a few."
Alex felt his stomach drop. The iodine. He lowered his voice.
"Alpha, I apologized to you, and to the pack for what I'd done. I thought these things were past."
Garron inclined his head slightly to tell him to let it go. Zechariah, Max, and Palermo were watching, rapt with attention, at the argument going on. Garron took a drink and set the chalice back down.
"Well, your coyness and disobedience, though cute, were never off-putting before, as you weren't passing them along to four other innocent human beings who may one day have alphas of their own who are not so tolerant as I have been."
Alex ignored the vaguely implied threat.
"There's five human beings I'm teaching. Five! You don't even know how many betas we have in our house!"
"The number is three, in actuality, four with Jara, and five only with Zechariah, who - where the hell is Jara?"
They both stood up at the same time, Malik getting jostled awake and into Palermo's arms. Alex looked around frantically.
"I don't know! He was here for morning meal - no...no, that was yesterday. I didn't see him in the afternoon that day, either..."
Garron put his ears flat.
"Mo! When was the last time we saw Jara?"
Mo looked to his brother for confirmation.
"A day and a half ago, Appa, and not since then."
A lightning flash again, Garron was out of the dining hall and headed for the nearest information wall.

+++++

Jara, as it turned out, was fine. He was, in fact, on kitchen duty again, and had been for three consecutive meals now. Semmelin had planned his schedule, Jara suspected, to maximize the time they would have to spend together in the kitchens. He sighed. Since that first day, he hadn't had much time with Zo'am, and the wolfe didn't seem overeager to rectify this. He'd been seen once or twice with a few betas, going off into the summer preserves room which was rarely opened and even more rarely used, and so Jara had taken the hint and forgotten about their kiss.
Now Semmelin was becoming a problem. The wolfe had been cautious around him at first, during their first few meetings for a work session, and even a little reserved. But after the first couple of shifts, he'd really opened up and begun to pursue Jara as aggressively as the black-haired one originally had. He now found himself working the dish room with Semmelin for the night meal, stacking dry dishes to distribute and laying out wet dishes to dry.
Semmelin kept bumping into him, accidentally, he was sure, and the wolfe had already more than once slipped his tail - accidentally - under Jara's apron.
"Cut it out."
"Cut what out?"
Jara glared and the wolfe just looked innocent, took Jara's left hand up to his mouth and kissed it. Then, thoughtfully, he rubbed his thumb over the welted white scar there, on the underside of the human's wrist.
"When will you tell me what these come from?"
Jara frowned and pulled his hand back.
"It was a long time ago."
he turned back to his stacking.
"I bet you remember."
Jara shrugged.
"Tell me."
Jara rolled his eyes. Semmelin could be quite single-minded sometimes, and he whined like a child when he wanted answers.
"Later."
Suddenly there was a heat and a pressure at his back and arms on either side of him, hands trapping his own against the crates. Semmelin took a quick lick at his neck, the rough texture of his tongue tickling Jara's skin there before suggesting, heavily, in Jara's ear,
"Now."
Then there was a growling and a pounce, a whoosh of air and Jara spun around to see his Alpha snarling on top of a wet-pantsed Semmelin.
"Alpha, STOP!"
Semmelin was yipping like a whelp.
"Jara! Thank God, you're fine. We were worried! What are you doing back here?"
Jara was just looking on, horrified, as Garron shifted back and forth in a rage atop a wolfe-shifted Semmelin.
"GET ALPHA OFF OF HIM!!"
Alexei looked over the two wolfes, discerned his own, and pulled his tail. Garron snapped around, nipped twice at the air.
"Shift!" Alex stomped at him, and he did so.
"ALPHA LET GO OF HIM!!" Jara screamed.
Garron refused, his fists still knotted in Semmelin's hair, but leaned away a little bit, just far enough to bite out the words:
"If I ever see you touch Jara again, I swear I'll fight you to within an inch of your life." he let him go and Semmelin scampered, at full wolfe-speed, away and out of the room. Jara covered his face with his hands.
"Are you OK, Jara?"
Jara shook his head.
"First Alpha Wolfe Garron, he wasn't going to hurt me. That's just Semmelin. He's OK. He's my friend."
Garron cast one stony eye at Alex.
"These are the behaviors you engage in with your friends?"
Jara shook his head.
"Semm is - he's - we've - he's been courting me."
Twin looks of shock.
"Thank you for your vote of confidence. But contrary to popular belief, there are wolfes out there who do want to court me."
Garron's face darkened even more.
"And you spend time in the dish closet with all of them?"
Jara's face fell. His alpha really was mad. Why was he mad? He had just walked in at an inopportune moment...although Garron didn't seem to think it was so inopportune. In fact, he thought it was just about right. He thought Jara did this all the time. His Alpha thought Jara was a tral, a common tral.
"Alpha, I wasn't - I didn't -" Jara felt tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. "We were only playing." he finished lamely, the words not coming out at all like what he'd meant. "I didn't do anything."
Garron didn't speak, just glared and grabbed Jara by his arm and half-dragged him through the kitchens, out of the dining hall, and through the lifts and hallways to their quarters and his room.
"And you'll stay there until I come to get you." Garron threw him down on the bed and stormed out. From the doorway, Jara heard his voice,
"No beta of mine will grow up to behave like a whore."

Outside of the door, Alex was pacing, and he almost bumped into Garron as he exited Jara's room. His mate's expression was not a happy one; Alex dropped his gaze submissively to the floor.
"I should punish you instead."
Alex felt his heart beat faster.
"Alpha, please...Jara's a really good kid. If he says he did nothing, I believe him."
Garron grunted, then pushed past Alex and indicated for his mate to follow him. Alex glanced once at the door, intending to go in and comfort Jara, but Garron cleared his throat and Alex decided he'd better follow.

+++++

"Well, that was exciting."
Max looked at him and shrugged. Zech picked at his food some more. Geez, Max and Palermo were boring. He wished they would grow up a little faster.
"So what'd you guys do today?"
"School." was the mutual answer. No elaboration. Zechariah took a sip of his water, then quickly leaned over and drank the rest of Garron's wine. Palermo looked like he was going to say something, but then Max shook his head and he went silent. Zechariah rolled his eyes. Palermo looked interestedly at him, glanced at Max, and then asked:
"So what was it like living underground?"
Zech shrugged, his mood suddenly dimming.
"It was dark. And cold. And the food wasn't very good."
"But you were free there, weren't you?"
Zechariah looked quickly at Palermo, then glanced around to be sure no wolfe had heard. He looked deeply into his wine, then back up at Palermo.
"Free is not something you lose or gain, little brother. It's what you are, no matter who tells you different."
Malik, who was balanced quietly on Palermo's lap asked:
"Did you have trees underground?"
Zechariah laughed.
"No. No trees underground, although sometimes we could see their roots, if our path was shallow and the roots ran deep enough. They look like trees, too, from the other side."
Malik digested this.
"I wouldn't want to live anywhere without trees, not even the underground."
He went back to eating his food.
Zechariah sighed. He wished he could go look for Daniken. His cousin always knew how to change his mood. Talking about the underground had made him feel sullen, depressed and a little turned around. Free or not free? Home or a prison? He hated these questions. Suddenly, the din of conversation in the room felt oppressive.
"Max, Mo, I'll see you guys later, at home. I'm going to go for a little w-a-l-k."
"I want to come!" Malik had learned at an early age how to spell.
"No, Mali, you stay here this time. I'll take you on the next one. Besides, it's only going to be boring, I'm just going out to the courtyard and back. I'll see you in a little while, back at home, OK?"
Malik looked crestfallen, but quietly said, "OK." and went back to eating Palermo's carrots.

++

Outside, the cold air felt fresh and beautiful. Zechariah took in great sucking breaths of it, closing his eyes to smell the smoke of the kitchen fires wafting out into the dark, pretending he was back underground, waking after sleep to his uncles and father making a meal. He opened his eyes and the illusion faded. Tears pricked at his throat. He wrapped his robes tighter around himself. Distantly, he heard the soft padding of bare footsteps. The scent attached to them was familiar.
"All alone out here, little one?"
he turned to see Me'tanalith standing behind him, his face a mix of concern and amusement.
"It just felt a little hot in there, that's all. How did you find me?"
"You are my mate. I am always aware of your whereabouts."
Zechariah nodded and turned his back. It did not shock him. Sharing close quarters in the underground made it easy for everyone to know where everyone was at any moment. The luxury of escape and the space to distance oneself was something new to him. Me'tanalith stepped closer behind him.
"Are you thinking of home?"
Zechariah shrugged and looked out at the bright night sky. Me'tan stepped up to stand beside him, looking out as well.
"I think of home often, as well. Sometimes I imagine I can see it, on clear nights, when the stardust passes."
Zechariah bit his lip.
"How do you stand it? My family is leaving in a few days, and I - I'll be all alone here. I have Damon and Daniken, who's staying, but mostly, it'll be just me, and I - how do you stand it?"
Me'tanalith looked at him then, pity and love in his expression.
"Being here, you mean?"
"Being all alone."
Me'tan felt a surge of love for this little human, standing alone in a dark courtyard in the middle of the night, staring up at the sky and thinking of home. Not wanting to spoil the moment, but wanting to be sure he'd understand, he gently took Zechariah's hand.
"You find ways not to be quite so alone. You make friends, start a family. Have a new life, one that helps to ease the pain when night comes and you remember what once was."
Zechariah felt tears coming, squeezed Me'tanalith's hand to hide his embarrassment of them. Long moments passed between them, Zechariah quietly growing colder and Me'tanalith sharing his heat in the space where they touched.
"Everything changes, doesn't it, Metabaliff? Even the stars."
Suddenly, Me'tanalith kissed him, quickly, just once, touching only his mouth.
"Yes, Zechariah. Everything changes. Even the stars."
Zechariah kissed him back. Searching brown eyes met grey.
"Change me."

++

Me'tanalith led Zechariah down narrow empty hallways to his home, then through the quarters into a dark bedroom; in the slivers of moonlight, he was sure, the wolfe could see him just fine, but the darkness was disorienting to him. He plunked down when his knees hit the edge of the bed and tried to reorder himself. After a moment, his eyes adjusted and Me'tanalith appeared in outline before him; he realized the wolfe was staring at him. He rubbed one shoulder, felt a breeze.
"Zechariah."
he looked up, as best he could, to meet the wolfe's gaze.
"Once I knot..."
Zech bit his lip.
"I know."
"Even before..."
"I know."
"Are you certain?"
Zech swallowed.
"Yes. I am."
Released from the gates now, Me'tanalith came towards him, knelt, put two hands heavily on his thighs and leaned up to kiss him. Zechariah tolerated it, for a minute, but then pushed him back.
"Quick, OK? We have to make it quick."
There was a pause where Me'tanalith was still in his position before him, then he moved, smoothly, like a shadow through the darkness, and lifted Zech and placed them both in the center of the bed, then leaned back to look, thought better of it, and dragged Zechariah into a shaft of moonlight that was playing across the sheets. He kissed his little mate again, lifting him up to balance in his lap, his touches brisk but gentle as he helped Zechariah get his clothes off and stripped himself. The first touch of skin on skin was powerful; Zechariah arched his back a little and felt a tingling skitter across his skin. Me'tanalith laid over him fully, his powerful hips between Zechariah's thighs. Zech thought of his cousin, his uncles, his father, and shut them all immediately out of his mind. For this, he wanted to be alone. Me'tan kissed him again, drew his attention back to the moment at hand. Something wet was rubbing against his inner thigh now, and Zechariah realized belatedly that it was the wolfe's dick, which was thick and wet now with his arousal. Zech's belly caught in his throat a little at the thought of it; he bit it down and put both hands on Me'tanalith's shoulders.
"Go easy on me, OK?"
Me'tan nodded, then, with a sudden surge in movement, lifted Zechariah's hips so that his ass was set directly over Me'tanalith's slick cock. Zechariah twined his fingers together behind Me'tanalith's neck, the wolfe gave one short thrust, he was in, breaching. Zechariah yelped, stifled it in Me'tan's shoulder, and took a few breaths in.
"Ohh. Ow."
Me'tanalith kissed his brow, then buried his face in Zechariah's neck. After a moment, the pain subsided. Zechariah poked him and Me'tanalith began to move, another thrust, going deeper still, raising Zechariah's hips with it. Zech moaned again and Me'tan stayed where he was, repeating the process until he was all the way in, buried in Zechariah as far as his mate would let him go. Zech's cock was semi-turgid, slipping sideways between them, a reminder of his little mate's need. Me'tanalith felt his own need growing, then, before he could warn Zech, he was expanding inside of him. He flipped his mate down so that Zechariah was lying on his back, and Me'tan towered above him, the two of them still connected, still paired together, Zechariah calm and only mussed a little, and Me'tanalith's breath coming in pants and hair falling down.
"Zechariah. Knot."
In the small shaft of moonlight, Zechariah's eyes were quizzical at first; then understanding, and a flash of fear.
"Just be still."
Zech nodded dutifully and almost held his breath as Me'tanalith struggled to limit himself until the knot could subside. He felt himself pulse, thrust just a little, just enough to ease the heat, and edged closer to the cusp; thinking was difficult, words slipping away from him and all sensation limiting to the tightness encasing his cock. He groaned against Zechariah's neck and let a little of his weight fall on him. To the side, Zechariah bit his lip and tried to wait. Me'tanalith began thrusting, hard at first until Zechariah yelped twice in pain, and then easy, shallow little humps that didn't scratch the itch, but did ease his discomfort. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, he felt himself falling, sliding, slipping away on a little disc of pleasure into the stars, and Zechariah was breathing in gulps of air in relief, and he felt himself growing smaller. He floated there for a minute on the headglow balloon, inflated and skin buzzing and the world quiet all around him. He was still hard, though, and Zechariah prodded him again to remind him what they were really there for.

The second cum was always less satisfying, Me'tanalith had thought, but then he caught a glimpse of Zechariah's face in the moonlight and the understanding came over him that he had his own mate, in his own bed, in his own right little perfect corner of the universe where no one could barge in and no clouds could ever cover the stars. He came harder than he had in his life; Zechariah wriggled uncomfortably at this, but Me'tanalith could tell he was trying hard to enjoy himself or at least pretend he was, even if he was only doing a passable job at it.

Afterwards, Me'tan laid for long moments on top of his mate, collapsed and breathing softly against Zechariah's skin, watching the subtle rise and fall of his beta's chest. The shadows of the moonlight moved.
"Come on." Zechariah was rubbing his back. "I have to go."
Suddenly, that idea seemed like the worst thing in the world. Me'tanalith growled. Zechariah shook his head.
"Don't go all wolfe on me now. You promised."
Me'tan made a little noise of dissatisfaction. Zechariah spoke gently to him.
"Let me go, 'tabaliff."
For some reason, that shook him out of it, and Me'tanalith released him, backed off, sat on his haunches and let him go out to the bathroom to get clean.

On his way back out, Me'tanalith caught his wrist as he headed to the door.
"I will bond you in the spring, little one."
Zechariah halfsmiled, nodded, and let himself out.

+++++

Damon and Kriston were sitting across from each other, staring at a meal together without the litter, when rom nowhere, Kriston produced a small, velvet black sack and pushed it across the table towards his mate. Damon pushed some things around with his fork, then flicked his eyes down to it, then up to his wolfe, then out, back towards the window. Kriston clenched his hands into fists under the table.
"I can't bring her back, Damon."
Damon shook his head.
"You didn't even try to save her."
Kriston remembered his paws, aching, pounding across the ground. Snow flying up in drifts, stinging his eyes, blinding his way. Howling in the distance. A female, bleeding, with Damon's face.
"I did try to save her, Day." Kriston reached out to touch his hand. Damon pulled it away, into his lap. Kriston retreated, looked out the window with him, his heart aching and full like every time it was when he knew he'd failed his pack. "But I was just too late."
There was silence between them, stretching out beyond the room, filling the spaces between the falling flakes of what would be the last winter snow. Kriston looked down at his hands, up at his mate, then down again.
"In the springtime..." he began, then swallowed, wanting his voice to sound strong, "things will be alright again."

+++++

The next morning, Zechariah woke up in pain, showing signs of his first change; he wanted to come home, but a lifetime of poor nutrition and little medical care made the doctors wary of letting him leave the infirmary. He stayed under observation. Me'tanalith came to see him while he was still asleep. Daniken came and sat with him when he woke up. His Uncle Tem came, late in the day.

Two days later, the rest of his family were helped to pack their things, and were sent away to LongTrees. Damon had asked that their Uncle Tem be allowed to stay.

By the time Zechariah was recovered and getting on the nurses' nerves, Kriston had gone into heat again, and Zech was instructed to stay with Alexei and Garron until it was through. The request was received with a mixture of happiness and trepidation, because although Zechariah was happy in his Alpha's home, he wasn't sure how he felt about more time with Alex and Garron, who had, for weeks now, been arguing incessantly - most recently over Garron's repeated implication that something untoward had happened between Zechariah and Me'tanalith which caused Zech's change. Zechariah hadn't had much to say about this, but Alex had gotten very upset and began to sabotage the meat freezer, and Jara had begun to ask when he'd be able to go back to work, and Garron had very fiercely told him never, and by the time the two of them were back on speaking terms again, Zechariah had snuck out three nights in a row. Which Garron only found out because Palermo had made a tiny little comment which completely blew Zech's working-on-his-Russian cover. Which had made Garron declare that anyone who couldn't manage to keep themselves in their room between midnight meal and dawn wasn't welcome to come back. Alex had called him a tyrant and left, and somewhere in between all that, everybody forgot that Max had turned 13.

+++++

It had been almost two weeks since the Great Embarrassment, and First Alpha Mate Alex had finally been able to negotiate First Alpha Wolfe Garron for his release. Feeling lighter, humming quietly, Jara was making his way down to the library for his first day of work, a million and one things (his alpha's threatening looks not least among them) darting through his mind. Jara had insisted to Alex that he couldn't show his face in the kitchens again, and so Alex had first suggested the infirmary, but then Garron had growled something about iodine and it seemed like it was about to start another fight, so Jara said he'd rather spend his days working with the books instead. His Alpha seemed satisfied by that, and had let him them both off that morning with only a stern lecture.

He pushed open the heavy sliding doors, just enough for him to squeeze through, and, once released onto the other side, he took a full, deep breath of the heavy air. He'd always loved the library; ever since he'd come to live in this pack, as a young boy, he'd found his solace here. He could sit for hours, poring over books and images, touching replicates of the old Wolfish documents and teaching himself their languages. He'd browsed through the genealogies of his teachers, his school friends, and his Alpha; had even looked his own up once, but couldn't bring himself to open the file. Before he'd even considered it, he'd found himself submerged again in his memories. He'd tasted fire, felt the sting of smoke and the coldness of his mother's skin. He'd shaken his head clear and moved on.

Then there had been other things; school and friends and working in the fields, and then more school and some training and helping with the intake, then becoming a varon and Garron and Alexei and the litter. Then Semmel - Jara stopped short where he was walking. Semmelin was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and one leg casually slung over the other, leaning against a stone pillar.
"Didn't expect to see you here."
the young wolfe grinned. Suddenly, his grin fell and he glanced behind Jara, his ears put back. "The alpha's not here, is he?"
Jara shook his head, stepped back, his head dipping down to hide his eyes under his hair.
"No, he's not. Sorry. Sorry about...all that. Everything. Sorry. I didn't - I mean, I mean, I'm really sorry, I didn't -"
"It's OK. Really, Jara. It's OK."
Semmelin rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
"I shouldn't have been - I mean, I'm sorry, too, is all. I probably made you look real bad in front of our Alpha and I wish I hadn't."
Jara smiled a little, but still felt wary and didn't look up, and Semmelin was still not completely certain that Garron wasn't around and so he didn't look at Jara, and so they stood in embarrassed silence for a minute more before Jara spoke.
"So you're working here now?"
Semmelin nodded.
"During times that I don't have to train. I...didn't want to go back to kitchen work again."
Jara felt a pang of guilt and sympathy. It had been a pretty bad scene in the kitchens, but it had always seemed like Semmelin sincerely liked the work he did down there. He'd been teaching Jara, after all, so he must've been doing it for some time.
Jara hated to feel like he'd been the impetus to separate Semmel from something he loved.
"This is nice, though. The archives. Things are quiet, things are old. Things are sacred here. It gives me space to think." Semmelin looked meaningfully at Jara, tilting his head to meet the human's eyes. "I like it."
Jara blinked up from under his bangs, pink tinting his face, trying to bite his lip to control his expression.
"It's very nice."
Semmelin smiled wolfishly.
"Well. Seeing as, once again, we'll be working together, maybe you wouldn't mind it if I showed you around."

+++++

"Get him. Bonded. Now."
Alex held up his hands helplessly.
"How am I supposed to do that?"
Garron narrowed his eyes.
"Ask around. File a request. Hold interviews. I don't give a damn what you do, but handle it now."
Alex was taken aback, but with Malik balanced on his lap and attuned to his every reaction like a miniature cardiograph, he tried not to express it. Garronm looking over his shoulder, noted the hesitation from his mate.
"Malik. Go play with your brothers."
Mal shook his head, looked wide eyed at Garron, and hid his face in Alexei's robes. Garron gritted his teeth.
"Now, Mali."
Alex glanced anxiously up at Garron and prodded the boy gently.
"Malik," he said quietly, "You go when your alpha tells you."
Mali looked up into Alexei's eyes, then quietly hopped off of his lap and went reticently towards the door and down the hall. Garron looked after him.
"This is how you teach him to respond to a command from his alpha?"
Alex wrapped his robe tighter around himself. Garron paced the ground in front of him.
"This family is in disarray. Malik does not listen to me. Jara is...cavorting. Zechariah doesn't come home - three nights now! Max is demanding to be taken to the infirmary so they can induce his Change because he thinks he's old enough now! What am I supposed to think about all this, Alexei?"
Alex felt a weird feeling in his stomach. He hadn't seen his wolfe like this before, didn't understand it.
"Garron, I -"
"Our family is meant to be a paragon, a mirror in whose image the greatness of our pack is reflected."
The words came out almost a growl. Alex crossed his arms over his chest, a protective gesture.
"Garron - "
"This cannot continue. This is a path of destruction. My pack senses the weakness already. Things must correct."
Alex had nothing to say in response to this statement. Garron suddenly stopped pacing, halting directly in front of Alex.
"Bond him."
"To who?"
"Find someone! Find ten or so young wolfes of some stature and with a record of decent achievements and let them have at it."
Alex stiffened.
"That's not - "
Garron sighed heavily.
"Alexei, love, I am the alpha of this pack. There are hunts to be led. Our food stores are low from a long winter. We have a need to resettle our medical system and intake protocols. There are explorations to be made; we must expand our territory. My second is coming apart at the seams, his mate and litter are in poor health, and there is rumored to be a new influx of wolfes from Arem'mir coming in the spring. There are tensions to settle about the distribution of the recent humans to another pack. There are other packs to meet and arrange trade with. There are new territories to develop, and battles to be won. Please, please, please do not task me with finding Jara a mate."
Alex looked away guiltily. Garron's voice dropped to a calm, almost gentle tenor.
"Are you happy here, with me, Alexei?"
Alex shot his eyes up to his wolfe's face, the question so unexpected that it caught him by surprise. Garron's eyes searched his, and Alex dropped his gaze to the ground, dipped his head and nodded. His hair fell into his face.
"Then help Jara find his happiness, too."
Alex bit his lip. There was a pause, then Garron exhaled.
"And take Max and let them Change him. He'll be out of commission for a few days, but it is easier on the younger ones; try to arrange it so he won't fall behind in his classes. Keep an eye on Zechariah. Me'tanalith is a wolfe of the old ways and probably feels entitled to mate him, considering they are due to bond in the spring. Just tell him to keep the trysts to a minimum. Palermo needs your help with his Russian grammar, and Max is behind in his reading."
Alex blinked up at his wolfe.
"And please make it clear to Malik that I am his father, his alpha, and the Alpha of his pack. I know it does not come naturally to all humans, but he must understand his place in this world. My commands are to be obeyed. When I tell him to go, he goes."
Garron ran one hand across his hair, smoothing back the blonde pieces that had fallen free of his braid.
"Alright, pup. I've got meetings and then I'm on a patrol shift until the night. Zechariah should be home before nine; tell him I'll beat him if he's not. Switch the servants over to the four-day schedule we talked about, and please remember to resort the meat locker. Is there anything else?"
Garron paused long enough to allow Alex to blink one more time.
"In that case, I love you madly, and I'll see you tonight."
He brushed a rough kiss to Alex's cheek before disappearing in a flash of robe and tail out of the door. Alex stared after him for a minute, the silence of his absence ringing in the room. Turning his head to take in the empty room, he asked himself quietly,
"And what about me?"

+++++

Kriston was moving briskly the second they met in the halls. Garron paced him, falling easily into step just ahead of the wolfe who was like a brother to him.
"What did you find out?"
Kriston shook his head.
"It's not good, but it's not bad either. His name is Gaunaren. He's full; he's a recent transplant from Arem'mir. Tells a lot of stories about the ancestors, speaks to the ranks about returning to the old ways. He complains about your laxity in disciplining your betas. There are whispers of assent among some of the population, it seems. My reconnaissance is not what it once was, but I suspect there's clusters of support around the idea of a revival of the old way of claiming. There are few mates to go around as it is, and nobody wants to wait. The transfer to LongTrees has been difficult on us, My Alpha."
Garron shook his head, thin lines of stress forming around his eyes.
"It was a necessary compromise. Our people seem to have forgotten who fed us in the last long storm. LongTrees has always been a friend to us, and they remain a necessary ally as we continue to expand."
They came to a corner and turned it, went into a smaller hallway separated from the main one by a glass door.
"They keep Manitoba in check. That's always a plus."
Kriston accorded. Garron scoffed.
"That hideous old wolfe. Always on some scheme or the other. He barely feeds his people as it is; he wouldn't know what to do with even a hundred more."
Kriston grinned.
"I believe he is probably saying the same thing about you."
Garron glanced at his friend.
"I'm sure. But more pressing matters - "
They passed through a series of archways into the Alpha Wolfe War Room they both shared. It was the most private and best secured place in the compound. Around the large mahogany table, they sat down.
"He's a black and silver. Very distinct. It seems to be helping his cause. The betas favor him. He's been suspected of entertaining several."
Garron shook his head, picking up a quill and pad that he'd left there earlier.
"There's a point in my favor. But there must be more than that."
Kriston shrugged.
"His grasp of the human underground is extensive. If we can settle him, I think he could be of immense help in further missions."
Garron nodded.
"Noted. Give me more."
"He's young, only 37. Unmated, never bred."
"Uh huh."
"Top-class hunter. Slower on his studies, but quick in the field."
"Right."
"Fleet-footed, shorter than you, never known a pack on Erim outside of this one."
Garron set everything down, sighed, and looked across the table to where his second-in-command was watching him.
"Tell me honestly, Kriston. How much of a threat do you think this one is?"
Kriston considered for a moment, his brow knotting up. For a flash, Kriston lost control of his expression; Garron saw the fatigue, the pain, the immense effort it took for him to draw up the energy to fight again by his Alpha's side. All the troubles in his home were killing Kriston and his little mate. Then it was all gone, and the confidence Garron had grown accustomed to hearing was there instead.
"With me by your side? Not even a little. But if he gains momentum, any trouble he stirs up could be costly to settle down. Deal with him now, make it public and strong, and you'll save yourself a lot of headaches in the long run."
Garron nodded, taking this in. He licked his canines, flicking his teeth across the two sharp dips in his mouth.
"Well," he said, suddenly feeling more tired than he'd thought he was, "it appears I have a challenger to handle, then."

+++++

In the bathing rooms, Alex was reclining quietly in a pool across from a chatty, bored-looking Zechariah.
"And then I said to him that he can't just take my clothes like that, you know? He thinks that just because we're in Wolfe land now, that clothes just grow from the ground! But I told him that those are special, and they're my clothes, and they're made of nice fabrics that were hard to find and Liff got them for me because he knows I like those kinds of things, but Daniken doesn't listen." Zechariah made a dismissive hand motion that splashed water around him.
"He's just selfish."
Alex nodded slowly.
"....yes."
"And Liff says that he doesn't mind, I can share, and he'll find me more stuff when he goes away next time but I don't think he should have to do that! I'm just going to tell Daniken that if he takes my stuff one more time, I'm going to tell Alpha Kriston and then I'm going to take it all back. Besides, he won't even be able to fit my clothes soon."
Alex nodded again.
"...yes."
"You're really quiet."
Alex opened his eyes and stared up at the glass ceiling and the sky above. He was over in a shadier area, but Zechariah had positioned himself right in the middle of the sunlight, as he and the other undergrounders were wont to do. His hair was dripping wet at the ends, where he kept dipping it in the water every time he sunk low to submerge his shoulders in the warmth. He exhaled slowly, thinking about all he was tasked to do.
"Alpha Wolfe Garron says to be home by nine tonight. If not, he disciplines. I think he's serious this time."
Zechariah shook his head.
"I'm supposed to go for a walk with Liff."
Alex raised one eyebrow.
"You can...walk with him tomorrow. Your alpha wants you home tonight."
Zech crossed his arms and pouted.
"Why? He's not even going to be there."
Alex felt surprisingly offended, and he sat fully up in the water to face Zech.
"Zechariah. You are aware that as long as you live in this pack, Garron will be your alpha, and you will respect him and obey his commands."
Zech looked a little surprised now, and deflated.
"I didn't mean - "
"Perhaps you should learn the ways of this pack, Zechariah, before you speak again."
Alex got up, lifting himself out of the water and hoisting up onto the edge of the pool.
"Be at the night meal, then come home afterwards."
Zechariah nodded and looked a little disconsolate, but Alex didn't have time to comfort him.

Back in the sitting area, he picked up Malik, who was supposed to be in school but had seemed a little feverish that afternoon and was sent home, spent the rest of the day tagging along after Alexei, a little creeping vine companion on his rounds.

Palermo and Kaeden were easy to handle - he spent about an hour helping each of them catch up and declared a new rule of Russian-only for Palermo in the afternoons to help him improve. By the end of the afternoon meal, the only one left to deal with was Jara. For the thousandth time, Alex wished that Ethan were still here, at home.

+++++

Kriston and Damon hadn't spoken much in the past few days. Kriston's heat had come, but was short and quickly abated, and with only an occasional midday visit to his mate, he was in operable condition.

Damon spent most of the morning alone, still, splitting his time between the litter and thinking about Alyssa. Zechariah ventured over for the noon meal, moody and complaining that he didn't want to live with Alex anymore, but Damon mostly ignored him and watched the window for signs of spring. Eventually Zechariah, bored of the non-conversation, wandered off to find more engaging playmates.

Daniken came afterwards and sat with him for an hour until Kriston showed up, looking harried and Damon sent him out with the servants. Kriston took him in a rush, ran through the showers, kissed his cheek, and was gone again.

+++++

Zechariah found Jara in the rear of the archives, on his knees, clearing shelves.
"Hey."
Jara startled and almost hit his head, then backed out more carefully and looked up, surprised, at Zechariah.
"Hi. What are you doing here?" he frowned a little. "Did something happen?"
Zech shook his head, idly dragging his finger across the stone engraving of the pillar beside him.
"Just bored. Alexei's in a grumpy mood, and Liff is working and can't come out and play."
Jara nodded.
"First Alpha Mate Alexei." he corrected patiently, getting to his feet.
"Well, I'm on a shift here until 7, but you're welcome to follow me if you're looking for something to do. I was going to check on the genealogies, see if anything needed sorting or had been updated. You can help, if you want. Maybe you're in there."
Zechariah wrinkled his nose, but agreed. They made a detour through the literature section, because Zechariah wanted to browse the Wolfish literature on mating, which made Jara blush horribly and refuse to look.
Zechariah shrugged at him.
"It's not embarassing, Jara, it's just life. It's normal."
"I didn't say it wasn't, I just - there are better things to look at."
Jara had thought he was holding it together pretty well, but he couldn't resist casting a single, anxious glance over his shoulder. Zechariah did the math immediately.
"You don't want someone to catch you reading this."
Jara's eyes widened.
"No, no, no, I just - "
"Who is it?" Zechariah looked around, over his shoulder. "Some wolfe working here?"
Jara shook his head.
"No. It's not like - "
"Is he older? Who would want to work in boring archives? I bet he's older."
Jara crossed his arms over his chest.
"I have to get back to work."
Zechariah grinned, quite enjoying himself.
"Tell me his name."
"No. Give me the book."
Zechariah pulled it just out of Jara's reach.
"Come on, my life is boring, I want to know!"
Jara made a confused face.
"Boring? You were captured from the underground in a daring Wolfish raid, you were selected by the Alpha to join his pack, and now you're going to be mated to one of the most-admired warriors on the planet. How is that boring?"
Zechariah shrugged. Jara reached for the book.
"Tell me."
Jara gritted his teeth and lunged for the book, and he and Zechariah ended up grappling for it on the ground. A shadow fell over them.
"Do I need to break this up?"
Zechariah startled and released his hold on the book and Jara immediately, which left the other human conveniently sprawled across the floor at Semmelin's feet, "Selected Illustrations of Mating Practices on Arem'mir" open in his lap. Semmelin frowned down at him, turned his head to read the title, and grinned, wolfishly.
"You prefer the classics, I see."
Jara turned red again immediately and twisted around to snap at Zechariah, but the other human was already gone.
"Great." he said, taking Semmelin's proffered hand to pull himself to his feet. "I needed that."

+++++

Garron waited patiently for his second to return to the Alpha Wolfe War Room. Kriston burst in the door shortly, his breath coming in pants.
"That was quick."
Kriston glared at him, annoyed.
"I was trying to get back here to help you."
Garron shrugged, grinning.
"I never tell a wolfe to rush a meal."
Kriston gave a low, warning growl and Garron tensed to it. Kriston waved him down.
"Save your strength for Guanaren. How do you plan to do this?" he took up a seat at the wide table, adjacent to where Garron already had a sheet laid out and was quill-writing on one side of it.
"Next week."
"You want to wait so long? He's stirring quite a bit of trouble, you're aware?"
Garron nodded.
"I've considered it. But you are right - our battle should be public, and brief. It must be over something simple - not an offense great enough to warrant real punishment, just a sound thrashing. I want to do it at the Spring Festival."
Kriston put his ears back.
"The Festival is not a time for fighting. The Moon won't like it. The wolfes won't like it. Festival should be a celebration - "
"Of birth. I know. I'm a Northener, same as you are, Kriston. I don't want the Moon or my warriors mad at me either. Which is why I have a plan."
Kriston furrowed his brow.
"A plan. To trick the moon."
"Not a trick! Just a positioning."
"Alright. And how do you intend to position this challenge so as not to offend the ancestors and Her?"
"In accordance with the traditions of the Festival, I intend to make the fight a display of dedication for my dear mate."
Kriston blinked at him.
"How...do you intend to do that?"
"Why, by luring Guanaren to him, of course."
Kriston continued blinking. Garron finished the sentence he was writing and set the quill down on the table.
"You said the wolfe has a weakness for comely betas. Alexei is most certainly one. He will draw him out, and I will defend him. I will gain the support of my pack and publicly settle the challenge, once and for all."
Kriston nodded slowly.
"So what you're telling me is that, during the Moon's Springtime Festival, the most sacred of all times for the taking of betas and the siring of litters, you intend to use your own mate, Alexei, as some kind of wolfe-luring bait."
Garron thought this over, mulling quietly the significance of his act. He looked up at Kriston and a wide, mischievous smile broke over his face.
"Yes. Yes, I do."

+++++