The Pack

The pack was on his heels; he knew what they wanted. He had threatened one of the pack, it was a fatal mistake. He hadn’t given up, not yet, but he was so tired of running. No time to sleep, to eat unless it was in the saddle. He had been on the run for weeks had ridden five horses to death and still they were right behind him.

The damn moon was almost full, not that they needed it to hunt him. Day and night they chased him, their howls of rage spurring him along, forcing him onward south, to a little backwater town up in the Texas panhandle called Tascosa, the last place he wanted to be. Death was following him, death was in front of him there would be no escape.

This was not your normal pack giving chase. This was a pack of Werewolves, seven in strength and everyone of them male. An unusual pack that had two timber wolf alphas. Although only the black was named pack leader, the pack knew he did nothing without his brown mate’s agreement. They were equals in all things. They submitted to freely to each other in either their wolf or human forms, but only to each other. Even in their wolf form their eyes retained their human colors, the pack black leader wolf eyes green, his brown mate’s eyes blue. Shoulder to shoulder the timber wolves ran, the rest of their pack following close on their heels.

The rest of the pack members were varied young and older Were. The elder grey wolf was known as Josiah, teacher in pack wisdom and ways. Next was the red wolf called Nathan, born in a cage and only let live to be used as sport for a rich hunter, till he escaped. The silver wolf was known as Ezra, a chance taker, but loyal to his adopted pack. Ezra’s mate was Buck also a timber wolf in his Were form, once he was Chris’ beta, but never his mate or equal. They were still friends and ran together although their history was marked with tragedy and pain for both. The last was the youngest of the pack, JD, a brown timber wolf, adopted first by Buck after being orphaned, then by the rest of the pack.

Now they drove their quarry relentlessly, for him there would be no escape. Pack justice would be had at all cost. His life would be forfeit, one way or another. The black wolf stopped, scenting the air and the enemy. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his teeth bared in anger. His mate nosed him, only the brown would dare touch him when he was like this.

“Soon!” The brown snarled to his mate.

The black licked his mate face, “Soon.” He agreed with a matching snarl.

TBC <WEG>