ALPHA LUNA ROMANNIE BLACKMORE

I may be just a pup but Iʻll never forget. As I hid in the bush, sure that my scent of fear would give my location away, I watched as the only life Iʻve ever known was slowly and painfully burned to the ground. I could hear screams from my pack members as they were brutally killed before my eyes. We were not a big pack, which in turn made us vulnerable prey to the savage larger packs wanting to take over our territory. What bothers me most, is why kill everyone? Wouldnʻt it have been better to have the survivors submit to your pack and increase your numbers? But what do I know? Iʻm just a pup scared of being found and killed like the rest. My tears silently fell as I realized I am now alone in this world. My parents, the Alpha and Luna, the Betaʻs, the Gammaʻs, the Omegaʻs....all dead. As I lie in a fetal position, hiding and praying to the Moon Goddess to spare my life, I hear a twig snap and I freeze, holding my breath from fear. Holding my breath for so long I can feel my head spinning from my brain's lack of oxygen. But I continue to hear twigs snap as they approach me. I can feel myself succumbing to the blackness, thinking, will this be my end? Is this how the Moon Goddess will end the madness in this world so I can run free in the next? Before darkness overtakes me, I am hit with a hint of a familiar scent. One of warm milk tea and honey. It reminds me of safety, of love, of nurturing. As the last light darkens, I feel myself being lifted by my scruff and softly and ever so carefully being carried away before all darkness succumbs. Contrary to popular belief, packs differ widely one from the other by geographic location. For instance, packs from countries around the world are usually split into three areas. Western, Central and Eastern. It doesnʻt matter which country your pack is from as it is more importantly which AREA of the country. Packs from the Western areas usually shift and find their mates at 18 years old. While packs from the Eastern areas usually shift and find their mates at 21 years old. But packs from the Central areas are unique in itself. Females will carry their pup(s) in human form and pups will be in human form up until their time of birth. Pups will shift in the womb and that triggers the labor for birth. The mother will shift to give birth to her pup. Mother and pup will remain in wolf form for 1 week to ensure pups imprint early on and the bond between mother and pup are unbreakable. This is also the time when father wolves will have their pup imprint on them as well, especially for male pups of rank. This is especially important for training a pup as he is groomed to take over in whatever capacity he is ranked. Pups as young as one week old can already sense their mates if they are near and their sense of smell is impeccable to recognize other members of the pack. From birth pups are already well equipped to shift at will. Pups can mate as early as 16 years old and should be mated no later than 25.  Young pups can also see the aura of another wolf but without understanding what colors represent. Pups are trained to recognize these colors by the time they reach their first birthday. This helps pups to distinguish which wolf is safe to approach and which arenʻt. Especially wolves not from their own pack. In certain packs in the Central areas, all members (males and females) are trained as warriors but higher ranked males and females are trained at the highest level of stealth and strength. Pups begin their training as soon as their human counterpart can walk, so between one and two years old. Being a wolf and the advanced stages of growing, wolf pups between one and two years are ready and eager to train. Some pups will show signs of training moves as early as 6 months old. Many she-wolf mothers have play dates with their pups to encourage these training habits but watching carefully so they donʻt hurt each other. These early on training sessions among pups also teach them loyalty to their ranked pack members as well as respect for everyone and themselves.  Training of all members ensures the packs power when up against other packs. What may bring a pack down is the size of their pack as compared to the attacking pack and if many of the females have just given birth and nursing, at which time they cannot go into battle. This is the case with my story.  My name is Romannie Blackmore, 4 year old she-wolf, last surviving member of the Black Lake pack of Central Canadaʻs Saskatchewan region. Daughter of Alpha Roman Blackmore and Luna Annie Blackmore. Our pack, though small in numbers, were proud wolves whoʻs fur color ranged from dark gray (Omegaʻs) to midnight blue (Betaʻs and Gammaʻs) to midnight black (Alphaʻs and Lunaʻs). I donʻt know what pack attacked us. I just remember my mother tossing me out the side kitchen window with a terrified whisper telling me “I love you, but you need to run!” I shifted in mid air landing on all 4 paws and sprinted into the brush at the edge of the forest line beside our pack house. The last I saw of her was her gallantly fighting with her sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. But the others were stronger in numbers and strength. She had no chance. None of them had. My father and his ranked entourage were slaughtered outside of our pack house but not before having to watch their mates and pups killed first. My fatherʻs eyes scanned the area looking for me as I was not one of the pups being slaughtered. He caught a glimpse of my violet eyes glowing in the bush before he was killed. In my fathers eyes I could see him telling me how much he loved me. I couldn't see the face of the Alpha in charge of the slaughter as his back was turned to me, but I could see his back was slashed from the claws of a wolf. Four perfectly gouged marks from top of his right shoulder all the way down to right above his left hip. A wound deep enough that although will heal quickly, will surely leave a scar. I vowed to never forget this mark. To find this man-wolf and make him pay for taking the only sanctuary and people I loved most away from me. In my darkness I relived the scene over and over again. Tossing and turning in twisted slumber. Sweating from the heat of the pack house on fire and the desperate look in my fathers eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks and my violet eye glowed with rage for the pack that slaughtered my family. Suddenly a faint smell entered my mind, calming me down and slowing my erratic heartbeat. I slowly woke to warmth and the smell of that familiar scent of warm milk tea with honey. But where was I? As I opened my eyes and began to focus, I could see the high ceiling of a cottage of sorts. The light from a roaring fireplace danced on the ceiling above me.  I could also smell delicious venison stew. My stomach growled with hunger pangs from the smells of fresh meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, bell peppers and onions. As I laid there salivating,  I realized I had shifted back to human form and wore a shirt made to fit an adult. My head was in excruciating pain from all that happened and I panicked when the realization of what happened, hit me like a Mack truck!! I jumped off the bed and into fight or flight mode, eyes wide as saucers, contemplating being killed. The startled old woman in the rocking chair looked at the child before her. “Child” she calmly said “Iʻm not going to hurt you. Iʻm the one that saved you. You are safe here”. Her warm familiar scent and calming voice immediately told me, she was my saving grace. I sat back down on the bed I just leaped out of and quietly observed this woman that saved my life. She said nothing and went back to mending a piece of fabric that looked to be as old as she was. As a four year old child, she looked old to me, but she couldnʻt have been no more than maybe 45 years old. She had a kindly look to her and a familiarity I could not place. Her hair, a dark black with wisps of gray starting at her temples. She had piercing gray eyes that showed no passage of time. She was not plumpy but rather very muscular for her age. As she sat there rocking and humming to herself a melody that oddly sounded like something out of my past, she softly broke the silence between us. “Romannie, are you hungry dear?” I was shocked that she knew my name. “How do you know my name and who are you?” I said. “My name is Grace and Iʻve known you since before you were born. But that will be a story for another time my dear. Again, are you hungry?” I shook my head no, but the growling in the stomach gave away my true feelings. “yes , maʻam, I am hungry”. She stood from her chair with a warm smile and said “well, okay then sweetie. How about we get some nourishment into your little body so you can gain your strength?” She moved across the floor to the kitchen area and got 2 bowls from the cupboard. Assuming for the both of us. She removed the cover off the simmering pot and the smell of her venison stew intensified 10 fold in the cottage making my mouth water even more. Scooping heaping helpings of stew into the bowls she placed them on the table where place settings were already made. She soothingly asked me “dearie, come and join me”. I walked to the table, pulled the chair out and sat across from her. She smiled so sweetly as we began to enjoy our dinner.  As we ate in silence, it gave me the opportunity to scope the surroundings in her cottage. It made me realize it was larger than I first thought. It was made of large, sturdy Jack Pine logs. As you enter, her front door was made from smaller Jack Pine logs and impressively designed with  2 wolves howling under a crescent moon. Two large windows on either side of the door with the fireplace in the right corner with a couch and a couple of chairs. The left corner was the bed I awoke in. On the right behind the couch were double french pane doors leading outside but it was too dark to see what was out there. Straight ahead was an open ceiling layout with a stairway leading upstairs to what looked like a loft. Under the loft area was the kitchen. Quite big and roomy and where the breakfast nook was located adjacent to the stairway and where we were enjoying our venison stew. There was a door under the stairs and another toward the back of the kitchen. Maybe other rooms. On the wall near the bed hung a huge portrait of a man and woman. It was Grace when she was younger. Her hair jet black and the same piercing gray eyes. Her smile was warm and kind just as it is now. The man beside her wasnʻt looking at the artist but rather at Grace. In his emerald green eyes you could see Grace was his world. The love that emanated from his stare told the whole story of the love they shared. I wondered where he could be? I looked to Grace who saw me looking at the painting. Her eyes showed heartache and pain and I just wanted to hug her. The aura she emanated was an array of positive colors. Yellow for joy and positivity, orange for adventurous and creativity, red for powerful and grounded, purple for spiritual, blue for calm and healing, green for growth and balance and white for truth. No black, gray or brown which were negative colors. Thank the Moon Goddess for that.  “How is your stew Romannie?” Grace asked. “Very delicious, thank you” I replied. “Would you like some dinner rolls with that?” My eyes widened “Oh yes please!” With a smile she returned with 4 dinner rolls, home churned butter and a jar filled with Saskatoon Jam, my favorite. She also made us strawberry and wild mint iced tea served in frosted mason jars. I asked her “Do I know you? I feel like I know you. I remember your scent from somewhere and I remember the melody from the song you were humming.” She smiled at me and said “your memories come from before you were born. In time you will come to understand who I am. But for now, let's work on getting you better shall we?.” As I looked at her smile, I realized I wouldnʻt be getting any answers from her tonight. I took one dinner roll and smothered it with butter, sopping up the gravy from the venison stew. Finishing my stew, I took my other dinner roll and smothered that one with Saskatoon Berry jam. My eyes rolled as I let the taste roll around in my mouth. How I loved Saskatoon Berry jam. My mother made the best Saskatoon Berry jam. And yet, strangely enough, this tasted just like hers. We finished dinner and cleared the table. As we sat there digesting our delicious dinner, Grace asked if I was ready for dessert. WHAT?!! Dessert too?!! I was a lucky girl tonight. First my life was saved, then venison stew, Saskatoon Berry Jam and now dessert. I wondered what Grace had for dessert? Grace went to the stove and pulled out a pan from the oven. My nostrils flared as the smell of Blueberries and Lemon filled the air. She got 2 bowls and scooped out some dessert. Then, she went to the fridge to get some whipped cream and put 2 dollops for herself and 3 for me. When she brought them to the table, oh how they smelled heavenly. “I hope you like blueberry and lemon coffee cake with whipped cream?” “Oh yes!” I replied as I eagerly scooped some deliciousness into my mouth. I donʻt know what tomorrow will bring but I was just thankful. Thankful for Grace and thankful that I did not suffer the same fate as my family. Suddenly, I felt so alone. No parents, no aunts or uncles, no pup friends. My eyes watered and small tears rolled down my cheeks. Maybe I should have suffered the same fate. Little did I know that the Moon Goddess and this kind lady had other plans for me.  After dinner I sat on the couch near the fireplace watching the flames dance, appreciative for its warmth. Having a photographic memory I remember every detail of our pack house. I closed my eyes and by memory walked through every room of my now non-existent pack house. It was huge to me, but then again, everything is huge to a four year old. I vividly remember the slate gray bricks that made up our pack house. Standing at the top of the steps at the front door it towered above me. The roundabout driveway stopped at the base of the stairs and wound its way back out 10 miles toward the main gate of our territory. Our territory was only 500 square miles, of that, almost 180 of those was Black Lake. Our pack only numbered 200 but we were a part of a series of packs that were related by bloodlines throughout Saskatchewan. Our pack house had 5 stories including the ground floor, 20 rooms, 5 on each floor each with their own ensuite bathroom, each floor also had 2 separate offices. On the ground floor was a great hall, large enough for gatherings and meetings of all pack members but used daily as a living room, a large kitchen and a large dining room. The 1st floor is for visiting guests. The 2nd floor, for the parents of ranked pack members. The 3rd floor for Gammas. The 4th floor for Betaʻs and the 5th floor for the Alpha and his Luna. The basement was equipped with a gym and a larger second level basement for training. The pack house was half mooned shaped and the back opened up to Black Lake. I stood outside the foyer to the back of the house and looked over Black Lake. The best years of my little life were playing on the shores of this lake. Cottages of other pack members dotted the shoreline on the right of the pack house while a thick forest backed up against the left. The kitchen window was on the left side of the house. The window my now dead mother tossed me thru. Had it not been for the thick brush and forest, I would have definitely been found. I opened my eyes and as I sat there and thought for a while, I wondered….How was Grace there? In the very area I was in? What brought her to Black Lake in the midst of all the chaos? I made a mental note to ask her. I felt my eyelids getting heavier and lay down on the couch. I continued to watch the flames as I started to drift off to sleep, the last thing I saw dancing in the firelight was my mother. How she loved to dance. I miss you Mom, so much. Darkness enveloped me and I could almost feel my mothers arms holding me tight.