Wild Wolf

Patrol

Tongue lolling, paws kicking up dirt, pebbles, and dead plant matter I run. At my heels Gen whines a quiet request that we slow down. Probably a good thing, we're supposed to be patrolling not running for fun. But for me, running is fun! In all my life I've never felt half as free as I do when I run. When I run, no one can tell me what to do, how to look, what to think, I just let my wolf instincts take over and I just run. The freedom gives me such relief that some times I wish I wasn't an alpha. Most people likely wouldn't understand, but I've often wished I could be a scout or a warrior rather than a Luna like I'm meant to become. But the idea of being someone free to patrol and hunt and run wild the way other pack members are. But I'm not a scout, I'm the eldest child of the pack alpha and even though my younger brother will one day take over as Alpha of the Copper Claw Pack, I'm stuck marrying for the good of our pack. Now don't get me wrong, I don't hate it. I've accepted my duty, but a wolf can dream even if the girl won't.

Taking pity on Gen, I slowed to a jog, he comes up to run at my side, just a step behind me as we turned, running down a well worn patrol path. From the corner of my eye I can see Gens' ears pinned back, his eyes darting nervously around as we gradually approached the ruins.

The area ahead is dangerous, and when we draw even close I slow even more, eyes scanning the rubble and broken stonework that the patrol path cuts through. I'm not even half as nervous as Gen is, I am still cautious in such a place. Unlike him, I'm not suspicious of ghosts. But the ruins are just a hard two hours' run from the edge of our territory and they offer many places where an enemy could lay a trap. Even with the home field advantage, we have to be careful when patrolling the ruins.

Then it hits me, a smell. Something of spice, lime, and sunlight, overlayed with the musky stench of wolf. My nose fills with the smell and beside me Gen inhales deeply, lips pulling back in a silent growl to reveal his teeth.

He smells the intruder too.

On high alert, I sink low, prowling among the ruins as Gen and I fan out and begin to carefully check over every inch of the ruins, sniffing and hunting for whoever is in hiding. The smell grows stronger, my nose in the air, I climb over a piece of a fallen wall, the stonework serving as a ramp that gives me the high ground and a good view of the rotting interior of a ruined building. I approach with caution to find a man taking shelter under a toppled wall and fast asleep.

Head tilted curiously, I looked at the sleeping man over where he lays fast asleep and apparently unaware that we've found him. Gen moves to stand at my back and looks just as surprised as I feel. Not that someone has wandered into the ruins is unusual, it happens from time to time that rouges or lost travelers seek shelter in the ruins. But they're usually much more alert than this strange intruder. This wolf, he seems so careless, just sleeping like he is, alone, unguarded, oblivious to Gen and I watching.

"Don't worry," the sleeping figure rolls over, his hair is a wild tangle of chocolate curls, his eyes so dark they look almost black, his skin golden and well tanned. "I'm alone and friendly. Got my shots and everything," he jokes with a yawn.

Surprised, Gen steps back and almost falls off the stone slab he's perched upon. Snorting, I roll my eyes at Gen.

I shift, my body reshaping into that of a woman. For a moment it hurts, but the ache is familiar and it passes quickly. "Well that's good, but you're still trespassing in Copper Claw territory. Our alpha will want to see you." I study the man. He has only one bag with him, and I see no weapons on him beyond the hunting knife left by the ashes of what I can only assume was a cooking fire. He's using his pack as a pillow and has a leather cloak pulled around his shoulder like a blanket.

Once more the stranger yawns, shifting and stretching lazily. "Sure you can't just let me go and say you saw nothing?" His smile is disarming, the mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes makes him seem charming, not dangerous.

For a second, I'm seriously tempted to agree.

"No." Comes my firm reply. "Get up stranger, I hope you're ready to run, I'd hate to have Gen tie you up and carry you." Behind me Gen snorts in amusement, mostly because he knows we have no rope nor any other means of tying the stranger up.

"Oh careful there, I might get excited," he laughs, only to cut himself short with a sniffle.

Frowning, I re-assess the stranger. His skin is rich, sun-darkened, and weathered, his hair thick, curly, tangled, but also matted with sweat and his eyes shine. Perhaps a fever? How long has he been out on the road sleeping with just a cloak for a blanket? I share a look with Gen, and he carefully climbs down, sniffing the strange man only to sneeze twice. But Gen makes no move to shift back, he just circles and sniffs. Clearly not worried or threatened.

The stranger sits up at Gen's approach and offers a hand for Gen to sniff. He mummers softly, asking Gen if he's a real wolf or a shifter. Sighing the stranger finally stands, he wavers ever so slightly. "I can't believe you're gonna make me run so early," complains the interloper dramatically while he stretches.

"Yes yes, I'm a monster. Pack up camp trespasser."