Northwoods Alpha

    In the depths of the forest, far to the north of the organized territories, a scrawny, red-brown wolf sprinted through the trees, weaving expertly to avoid a collision. He crouched under branches and came upon a looming, decrepit mansion hidden behind a thick circle of pines. The wolf's heightened senses picked up growling and shouting coming from somewhere inside the moldy structure. He quickly transformed back into his human form: a lanky, under-fed man in his early-20s with thick, wiry hair the same color as his wolf's. The man threw on the shorts and t-shirt that were waiting for him on the porch of the dwelling before entering with caution. Walking silently through the halls, he could hear the yells getting louder as he approached his master's office. He sharply knocked once before sliding into the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.     The scene that greeted this young wolf was one he was used to, but unpleasant nonetheless. His master was simultaneously growling and yelling at a pathetic, cowering young man with a pale, grayish complexion and a patchy head of thin, black hair above sallow cheeks and hooded, black eyes.     "Please, stop!" the black-haired man screamed at his tormentor. "I didn't know what else to do! There were no other options! We were surrounded by ranked members from the pack, I barely got away with my life! I-" he was swiftly silenced by a slap to the face that knocked him to the floor.     His attacker stood above him, sneering at the pathetic rogue. His anger was palpable; it seemed to ooze out of his large, muscular frame.      "I care not what you have to say, rogue. I only care that you bring me females from the organized territories, which you have clearly failed to do," the brute said as he stood menacingly over the cowering rogue.     "But I could not take a girl! The others were either dead or close to it! I had no other choice, if I had tried to grab a female, I would have died!" The young man looked pleadingly up at his master from his place on the floor.      "Unfortunately for you, your empty-handed return yields the same result."     The master's words seemed to register on the sickly man's face just before his neck was snapped, ending the rogue's miserable existence with the wide-eyed look of shock still on his face.     The red-haired man coughed gently from his place near the door and said, "Excuse me, my King, but I bring news from the Silver Moon pack."     The King turned and looked at the newcomer. He seemed mildly interested as he responded, "Yes, Gavin, what is it you have heard?"     "Our soldiers have sent reports that they have captured 3 new females and are starting their journey North. They should arrive with their captors within the next few days," Gavin responded matter-of-factly.     The King looked pleased upon hearing this news. He walked quickly behind his drab desk and consulted a large book before providing further instruction.     "Excellent, Gavin. We will have space for 3 more just in time for their arrival. Inform the guards that the girls in cells 2 and 7 can be disposed of, then ready these cells for our new guests. The third girl can be placed in cell 15, which was vacated last week." The King glanced down at the corpse on the floor before adding, "And call up the cleaning crew to help you move this failure of a wolf. Make sure he is displayed out front so all you rogues remember who is in charge and the lethal consequence of your disappointment, betrayal, or failure."     "Right away, sir," Gavin responded before he quickly left the room.     The King walked around the dreary room and took a seat in the drab, burgundy chair that might have been handsome in its time, but was now worn and had bits of stuffing poking out in odd places. The King seemed to be unaware of, or perhaps simply indifferent to, the dreariness of his surroundings, and settled into the chair thinking of what he might try with the new batch of arrivals. He quickly became lost in his own mind.     Dahlia's descendant is near; I must be getting closer. I have searched for the last 300 years and have traced her aura to this region. I am losing my patience with these rogues and their lack of drive and attention to detail! The descendant of the original Wicca hybrid needs to be found in order to bring my plans for domination to fruition in this lifetime. I sense her powers; they grow stronger every day. There must be another way for me to find her...     Suddenly, the King sat bolt upright and struggled for a moment to open the upper left drawer of his ancient desk. Once it yielded itself to the King, he rummaged around inside and pulled out a mirror just larger than the size of his palm.      Why did I not think of this before?! If I have tracked her aura accurately, I should be within an acceptable physical distance for the spell to work...     The King began muttering in an ancient tongue as he held his hands over the mirror. It started to glow like the sun as he continued to utter his spell. Finally, the mirror's light became a focused beam of light that hit the ceiling above before returning to its original state on the surface of the desk.     The King picked up the mirror, his face a mixture of excited glee and worry. Peering into the surface of the mirror, he saw exactly what he was looking for. A sleeping young woman with chocolate brown curls appeared on the surface of the mirror, although only her face was visible. The King could barely contain his excitement, for she was more beautiful than he could have even imagined.     Yes, the King thought, she will make a better mate than I could have dreamed...much better than the homely Dahlia. The children I could produce with this specimen will surely possess both power and beauty beyond measure. She must be found...she must be found...