Males are dangerous, volatile and deadly. That’s what my papa has always told me. I was to stay as far away from other werewolves, a pack as small as ours were in no way able to go against any foe. If you can even call us a pack, it was me and my dad.

My mom passed away almost 15 years ago and it still feels like yesterday, since the plague that has hit our female race, women were and are in short supply, hence my dad’s hesitancy to have me far from him.

We lived in mountains of Pennsylvania and with the new lunar cycle coming up we are bound to see some migrating packs, its making my older father increasingly nervous.

The older male was not weak by any means he still held the virility of his younger years but he s weak with greif, a male doesn’t live this long without their mate and every day I knew he struggled, but he loved me fiercely.

“Papa, can we venture for a hunt before the sunrise?”

It’s been three weeks since I’ve phased and my wolf was begging to be set free.

“Illyana… I know you feel the ache of your wolf but this full moon is still out, and it is the cusp of mating season and your scent will draw any male from miles around, I cannot risk you leaving the den.”

He insisted standing at his full 6’8 height, at 245 years old he looked no older than a human 45.

His hair and his fur were graying around his ears and his neatly trimmed beard. His tan skin was lighter than my own; I held my mother dark pallor and her brown eyes.

I whined under my breath and he sat and brought me into his warmth as he always has since I was a child. I was a young wolf having only seen 24 yearly moon cycles.

“My treasure, I have lost to much so soon, I cannot lose you.” He hummed into my tight curls.

“Papa, I miss mama, and I know you do too.” I clung to my father

He hummed into my hair and tucked me under him as we piled for sleep. The Den was our home a cozy cave lined with skins, our bed was a small hole lined in furs and bedding.

“Illyana, my precious…. You are the only thing that has kept me alive for so long, I fight grief but I fear it’s overcoming me…” he murmured I even my breath so he would continue to think I was asleep.

I awoke the next afternoon, early as the sun was setting and I stood at the mouth of the den and the breezes were upwind and the feeling of the breeze through my hair was glorious. The thick forest ahead was swaying and it seemed that a rain was near; I could taste the rain on my tongue.

I adjusted my dress, made of elk skin fashioned by my late mother. As the wind changed position I watched the sun set at the horizon.

Papa was snoring and I smiled having this time to think was lost in the beauty of my habitat. The snap of a twip suddenly caugh my attention.

I felt Papa rouse and then the wind brought the scent into the mouth of our den. A pack. Papa stood quickly pulling me into the den and behind him.

“be quiet my child.” He pointed out the eyes peeking from behind the forest line, the yellow and green eye were unmistakable in the low light and I huddle behind my father.

I clung to him and he growled as member walked into the small clearing of our den.

The man was tall with olive skin, strolled into the clearing his chest bare but bathed in scars of battle, his lower half wrapped in the furs of a black bear. He growled low in his throat back at my father.

“You have an unmated female with you.” He shouted, taking a deep breath of the air around him.

His pack roused from the brush to flank him. They were a pack of only three including the olive toned man.

The other was dark as onyx his chest marred and a long devastating scar marred his face, but his handsomeness was only increased with the fierceness of the scar, the other was obviously younger his physique maturing his skin was the color of clay soil his inky black hair fell to his shoulders. .

“That is none of your concern.” My father answered crouching into a defensive stance.

“I beg to differ, her scent calls to me.” He said softly. My father deepened his stance.

“I demand to see her.” The olive toned man growled. “SHE IS MINE!” He roared his body rippling with the beginnings of the change.

“Papa…” I whimpered into the furs of his vest.

Papa pulled me to cling to his back. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he calculated the best escape plan.

“She is not yours.” He answered as he slung up to the top of our den managing to hop from tree to tree.

The olive man roared in his defiance and phased mid jump following my scent his mates charging close behind him.

“Illyana… this male believes for you to be his mate… if this is indeed true, he will not quit.”

“Papa, you mustn’t fight him then, we will run.” I told him clinging to his neck.

He stops at the top of an oak; I can see our assailants a mile out.

“Yana, I haven’t much time… I will fight him for it is the only way, he will continue to chase you. I see it in his face that you are his, he has yet to set eyes on you but he scented you and his body shifted.”

  His blue eyes soften as he holds my face.

“You are as stunning as she was, ever soft hearted and perfect. I pray to mother Moon, he is good to you.”

They are gaining I scent them closer and closer.

“Papa you don’t have to fight him. Join the pack… stay with me.” I beg. His black hair tousles as shakes his head.

“I’ve already committed a trespass, against him, by keeping you away from him, and Illy I long for your mother, grief is overcoming me each waking day… I fear this is the only honorable way.”

“Papa, I will be without you, how can I love a man who kills my father.” I wailed as the growling becomes deafening as the pack surround the base of the tree, the barking and scratching are the tender bark.

“Illyana, you will make a beautiful alpha… forgive your mate.” He swallowed thickly before phasing on a branch his large black wolf form leaps to the ground.

His fierce growl swallows my wails for him. The sounds fighting are horrific, the sounds of gnashing teeth aren’t lost to me as aren’t the sounds of crunching bones and biting flesh.

It seems to last forever finally I here a loud whelp and screeching whine. I peak from the leaves and find my father’s form his wolf limping on three paws a chunk of his hind gone his fur scattered on the forest floor.

The silver gray wolf charges grabbing his unguarded neck without struggle, my father’s eyes meet mine, as his body returns to his human state, he is bloody and broken.

“I love you Illyana.” He whispers with his last breath.

My heart pounds, beating against my chest as my stomach churns, I hear a devastating wail upon the wind and just as blackness gathers in my line of view do  realize the helpless wailing is me.

“Papa…” I cry, longing for his warmth.