Her Return As An Alpha

Chapter 21 : The Four Alphas

The once-proud lands of Rust Fur pack now lay in ruins, the devastation that fell upon them clear in every tumbling stone. The hilltop overlooking the pack’s territory provided a grim view of the destruction that had unfolded. Charred remains of homes, once vibrant and full of life, now stood against the horizon. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt wood and flesh. It seemed to be embedded into the soil as a bitter reminder of the brutality that had occurred.

The fires had raged uncontrollably, consuming everything in their path. Signs of physical combat were visible everywhere through the s***h marks of claws and bloods. What little was left of the buildings had collapsed into heaps of debris, their once-strong structures reduced to ash and rubble. The surrounding forest, which had provided both shelter and sustenance to the pack, now lay scorched and blackened, with large areas still smoldering. The trees, stripped of their leaves and bark, stood as lifeless, skeletal silhouettes against the gray sky.

In the heart of the destruction, the bodies of the pack’s men lay scattered across the ground, their humanoid features barely discernable. The scenes were brutal and horrifying; some had been left where they fell, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and agony, their bodies marred by savage wounds. Others had been burned beyond recognition, their forms nothing more than charred remains. The sight of their severed limbs and dismembered corpses was enough to bring a grown man to his knees.

Amidst the wreckage, the women and children had been dragged away or abused before being taken. The ground bore evidence of their desperate attempts to flee—their tracks crisscrossed in frantic patterns, some leading to the edges of the pack’s territory, others ending abruptly in places where the attackers had caught them. Torn clothing and personal belongings lay scattered. Some of the female warriors had clear signs of violation around their throats and pelvis.

The once lush and fertile lands, which had been the lifeblood of the Rust Fur pack, were now scarred by blood. Fields of crops were burned to cinders. The streams and rivers, which had once provided clean water, were now tainted red with blood and debris, their banks lined with the remnants of burnt flora and fauna.

The men of the four major Alphas, who were sent to scout the region, worked tirelessly, their faces set in grim determination as they battled the last remnants of the fires and scoured the devastation for any survivors, but there were none. The smoke rose in thick, choking plumes, making their task even more arduous. They moved carefully among the ruins, searching for any signs of life, but the extent of the destruction left little hope.

The Alphas themselves stood at a distance, their expressions a mix of sorrow, rage, and disbelief. The magnitude of the attack was overwhelming, and the realization that they had arrived too late to save their allies weighed heavily on their shoulders. Their fury was palpable, a silent storm brewing as they surveyed the horrors before them.

Silvera Feather’s wrath was barely contained as she paced back and forth. Her normally composed demeanor had crumbled under the weight of the destruction. Her eyes burned with a mix of anger and indignation as she stared at the wreckage below.

“This is unforgivable,” she growled, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Those damn rogues… they’ve gone too far this time. I can’t believe they’d attack without any regard for the lives they’re destroying. Do they have no honour?”

"No. That's why they're called rogues. If they had an ounce of dignity left, they would have requested to join our ranks rather than ambush us."

Fredrick Holstein, his expression as cold as ever, pulled out a large map and laid it flat on the ground. The scroll revealed intricate details of the surrounding packs’ territories, including the areas recently devastated. Pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his straight nose, his pitch black eyes scanned the map. His movements were precise, a stark contrast to Silvera’s restless agitation.

“Calm yourself, Silvera,” Fredrick said, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. “We need to focus on finding a pattern to these attacks. Raging won’t help us track down the rogues responsible.”

Lucinda Davenport joined Fredrick, her expression similarly composed but with a hint of annoyance. With her brown hair tied back in a bun, she unrolled another map beside Fredrick’s, meticulously studying the details as she marked potential routes the rogues might have used.

“Traditional methods are so tedious,” Silvera grumbled as she knelt beside them, her platinum blonde locks escaping from her messed up ponytail. She distractedly gathered them together and tightened the string. “Why can’t we just use the trackers we have? They’re faster.”

“The problem with those devices,” Fredrick replied curtly, “is that they miss tiny details. You need the precision of these maps to get a true sense of the attack patterns.”

Silvera shot him a look of frustration. “Fine, whatever. But where’s Alpha Redhart? She should be tracking these rogues with us. Yet, I haven't heard from her all week. Do you think-”

"It would be a stary day when Alpha Redhart would miss getting involved on purpose."

Damon Knight, who had been silent until now, looked up from where he was seated cross-legged on the ground. His blue eyes were troubled as he glanced at Silvera. “Alpha Redhart was already following a larger trail. These smaller rogues were likely sent to destroy the small packs as a diversion. Redhart’s chasing the ones who lead the whole rogue army.”

Silvera sighed in resignation. “Right. I suppose that makes sense. She had mentioned it. But it doesn’t make this any easier.”

As they continued to pore over the maps, jotting down notes and highlighting possible routes and nearby villages, the atmosphere was tense. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ruined landscape.

Suddenly, two large brown wolves burst into the clearing, their fur matted with dirt and blood. They skidded to a stop before the group, their breath coming in heavy, panicked bursts.

“Alpha Feather! Alpha Knight! Alpha Holstein! Alpha Davenport!” one of the wolves barked urgently. “There’s been more destruction. Three human villages have been wiped out. It’s worse than what the packs have endured.”

Silvera’s sky blue eyes widened in shock. “Three villages? This is beyond horrific.”

Without waiting for a response, the Alphas sprang into action. Damon was the first to shift, his form morphing into a powerful gray wolf with rippling muscles and sharp, intense black eyes. He let out a low, guttural growl as he scanned the area, ready to move.

Fredrick and Lucinda followed suit, their transformations smooth and swift. Fredrick’s wolf was dark and imposing, while Lucinda’s was sleek and agile. They barely touched the ground as they took their positions beside Damon, their eyes locked on the horizon.

“Let’s go!” Silvera shifted into her own wolf form with a fluid motion. Her fur was a rich, tawny color, bristling with energy. “We need to reach those villages before the traces are swept away.”

The four Alphas set off at breakneck speed, their powerful legs propelling them through the forest. The scent of blood and smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the natural aroma of the woods. They followed the trail with single-minded determination, the urgency of their mission spurring them on.

Fredrick’s voice echoed in their minds as they raced forward. “The villages are close. We can’t afford to waste time.”

“Stay sharp,” Lucinda added, her mind focused on the task at hand. “The rogues might still be lurking. If they could sneak inside the borders undetected, then they could still be hiding beneath our very noses.”

The city loomed in the distance as the four Alphas emerged from the dense forest. They shifted back into their human forms with practiced ease, their fur melting into leather armor and clothes. The once pristine fabric was now streaked with grime and blood from their hurried journey.

Fredrick took the lead, his face set in grim determination. “Stay alert,” he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of the grave situation. “We need to search every inch of this place.”

As they approached the once proud city of Wakers, the devastation became all too apparent. Buildings that once stood proud were now reduced to crumbles. The streets, littered with debris, were eerily silent. Broken glass, splintered wood, and shattered bricks lay scattered, creating a chaotic mosaic of destruction. Vehicles, once symbols of human progress, were now twisted heaps of metal and plastic, some partially buried under fallen trees.

The bodies of humans were strewn about, their lifeless forms twisted in unnatural positions. Their eyes stared blankly, while their ripped throats and torso were covered with dried blood.

Fredrick’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward, his eyes scanning the devastation with a cold intensity. Despite his stoic exterior, his grey eyes were stormy, betraying his internal disturbance. He moved through the wreckage with a methodical, almost mechanical precision, but his pace quickened as he searched for any signs of life. His breaths came in shallow, controlled bursts as he stumbled over debris.

The others followed closely, their expressions mixed with darkening emotions. Silvera's usually bright blue eyes were clouded with grief, and her normally fiery demeanor was subdued by the crushing weight of what they were witnessing. She reached out to touch a wall that had been partially blown away, her fingers tracing the lines of the damage with a look of disbelief.

Lucinda and Damon moved with purpose, their eyes scanning for survivors. Lucinda's usually composed face was marred by a grimace of horror. She shouted out periodically, her voice echoing through the empty streets. “Is anyone here? Please, if you’re alive, show yourselves!”

Their calls were met with silence. Occasionally, they encountered wolf shifters from their packs, who were also searching for survivors and working to put out fires. Their grim expressions mirrored the Alphas’ own feelings of defeat.

Hours passed in a blur of anguish and relentless searching. Fredrick’s face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. He continued to lead the search, his movements becoming more frantic as the hours wore on. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional sound of collapsing debris or the distant crackle of flames.

The next location, a small county, was in an even worse state. The destruction was more extensive, and the brutality was more evident. The buildings were flattened, their remains scattered across the ground. The few survivors they found were in shock, their eyes vacant and their bodies shaking with the trauma of what they had witnessed. The Alphas knew that, regretfully, the survivors would be forced to either live in their packs or be locked up to avoid spreading news of the events to other humans.

Finally, they arrived at the last location: a small village with a population of a few thousand. The sight was almost too much to bear. The small roads that curved within densely packed trees were flooded with blood. The houses, once modest and welcoming, were now reduced to heaps of clay.

The villagers, simply dressed and humble, were all dead. Their bodies lay sprawled in the open, some crushed beneath fallen debris, others burned beyond recognition. The well, the lifeblood of the village, was now filled with the bodies of the villagers who had sought refuge there. The water had turned a dark, repulsive color, tainted by fluids and decomposition of the corpses.

Fredrick sank to the ground at the well, his face pale as he stared into the grotesque scene before him. His black hair fell over his eyes, gold-rimmed glasses flashing in desolation. His shoulders shook slightly, a stark contrast to his usually unshakable demeanor. The man who had always been a pillar of strength was now overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the horror.

Damon, standing nearby, was unable to hold back his revulsion. He stumbled over to the trees, his body convulsing as he heaved his guts onto the ground. The sound of his retching was a harsh, guttural noise that cut through the silence of the village.

Lucinda, her face drawn and ashen, followed suit a few moments later. She fell to her knees, her body shaking uncontrollably as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her normally composed demeanor shattered by the gruesome scene.

Silvera, watching her comrades' distress, sank to her knees on the bloodied grass. Her fingers clutched at her arms, as though trying to hold herself together. The sinking sun cast a waning light over the devastation, its rays falling on Fredrick’s shoulders as they shook with silent sobs. The normally stoic leader was now a picture of anguish, his stone-like exterior giving way to the overwhelming grief of the loss they had witnessed.

They four of them had been trained to be Alphas from the day they were born. After the more brutal and exhaustive training, they had been strong successors. But they were the new generation; their reign so far was less than a decade. Such a level of devastation was unheard of, at least to them. Had they known what the rogues had done, perhaps they would have requested the assistance of their fathers, the previous Alphas.

"I think it is obvious why the King hasn't let anyone witness what Alpha Redhart had to deal with," Damon groaned, his eyes cracking. "I don't have the guts to handle another such expedition."

"Redhart is either too brave, or a monster, if she can handle this as a novice," Lucinda agreed before hurling over again.

The four Alphas went through the village, their movements jittery and turbid. Finally, unable to find much and aware that they would just disturb the crime scene further, they left to gather their warriors and create the report. Their spirits weighed down by the relentless tragedy. Yet, they knew their work was far from over.