*
For the first time in the history of the Greyhounds pack, the New Moon festival was rushed to conclusion with three days still left to go. In the wake of death, chaos and general unrest, it hardly seemed wise to carry on with the festivities.
Alpha Clark was mortified when it ended all, and he bemoaned the fact that it had all been a failure of epic proportions. It was all in shambles, really. And there was no way of fixing it.
He sat alone in his study now, with a bottle of beer in front of him and a contemptuous look in his eyes. Outside, the garlands were being taken down, and every trace of the festival was being wiped out as quickly as possible. Those who had found their mates were happy, and those who were yet to find theirs were getting ready to leave their homes in search o
