My Mate, the Alpha

Chapter 1

Skylar

The forest wasn’t just a sanctuary for my pack, it was my haven, a place where every leaf, every whisper of the wind, inspired a surge of creativity within me. There are two places in the forest that are my favourite. The lake with a waterfall at the bottom of the cliff near our border, and a small clearing that is the home to a field of wildflowers.

From a young age I have found solace and expression in the world of art. While my pack trained for strength and strategy, I found myself compelled to capture the beauty of our natural surroundings in sketches, paintings and carvings.

Every member of the pack has a role, a purpose that contributes to the greater good. The elders, with their wealth of stories and knowledge, are our guides and counselors. The warriors stand ever ready to defend our borders from any threat, while the healers, with their deep understanding of herbs and potions, tend to our wounds and ailments. Even the young ones have their place, learning from the moment they can walk the ways of our kind, preparing for the day they will be called upon to uphold the legacy.

As a child, my days were a blend of joy and discipline, the forest my playground and the packhouse my classroom. The packhouse, a sprawling structure built of timber and stone, stands at the heart of our territory. It is more than just a dwelling: it is our sanctuary, a place where we gather to celebrate, mourn, and forge the bonds that hold us together. Its walls are adorned with the history of our kind, portraits of past Alphas, and tapestries illustrating epic battles and memorable hunts.

Within these walls, I found companionship and camaraderie with the other young wolves. We formed close-knit groups, fostering friendships that would last a lifetime. There is Harper, with her quick wit and infectious laughter, always ready to lighten any mood. Luca, the silent strength among us, is unwaveringly loyal. And then there is Eryn, a free spirit who challenges the status quo at every turn, her rebellious nature a constant source of worry for the elders but an inspiration for me.

The packhouse had a small, neglected room at the very top, with a window that overlooked the sprawling forest. It quickly became my studio, a place where I could let my imagination run wild and give life to my visions. The walls of that room soon filled with my work: a makeshift gallery of sketches and paintings that told the story of my pack, our land and our heritage.

My favorite medium has always been charcoal, drawn to its ability to create stark contrasts and subtleties alike. With a few strokes, I could capture the play of shadows beneath the canopy or the fierce intensity in a wolf’s eyes. Sometimes, I would venture into painting, using the natural pigments that are made from crushed berries, leaves and minerals found in the forest floors. These pigments lent a rustic, organic quality to my work grounding my creations in the very essence of the land I loved.

My mother, Liora, was the first to recognise my artistic inclinations. Perhaps it was because she herself was a healer, someone who saw the world through a lens of care and connection. She often took me on her gathering trips, where we foraged for herbs and materials that she used in her remedies. These excursions were my first introduction to the symbiotic relationship between nature and creativity. She would often find me sitting at the edge of the forest, a smooth stone in one hand and a piece of charcoal in the other, lost in the intricacies of creating images from the world around me. It was she who encouraged me to embrace this part of myself, even when others viewed it as a mere hobby.

My father, Ethan, though initially baffled by my passion, came to respect it as well. As a warrior, he valued practicality and strength, but he also recognized that art was another form of strength - one that brought the pack together in ways that physical might alone could not.

As I grew older, my art evolved from personal expression to a means of reflecting and preserving our pack’s heritage. The Silver Moon Pack had a rich history, filled with legends, traditions and pivotal moments that defined who we were. Through my art, I sought to honor and immortalize these stories, creating visual narratives that bridged the past with the present.

It wasn’t long before word of my artistic abilities spread through the pack. Initially, there was curiosity - puzzled looks and raised eyebrows. Many couldn’t understand why I chose to spend hours hunched over a sketchbook when I could be training or patrolling. But gradually, appreciation replaced skepticism. My art began to decorate our common areas, each piece serving as a visual reminder of where we are and where we came from.

There was a particularly proud moment when Alpha Marcus himself commissioned a piece from me. He wanted a portrayal of his late mate, the former Luna of the Silver Moon Pack, whose strong and nurturing presence still lingered in the hearts and minds of many. It was a heavy responsibility, but one I accepted with reverence and commitment. I spent weeks on the piece, striving to capture not just her likeness but the essence of her spirit - her strength, warmth and unwavering loyalty to the pack.

The unveiling of the portrait had been an emotional event. As Marcus stood before the finished piece, his stoic demeanor had given way to visible emotion. He thanked me for doing her justice with so much gratitude in his voice.

The forest always remained my greatest muse, an endless well of inspiration. Each season brought its own palette: the vibrant greens and blues of spring and summer, the fiery reds and golds of autumn, and the muted grays and whites of winter. Each transformation in the landscape offered new perspectives and challenges for my work. I would spend hours wandering through the woods, sketchbook in hand, capturing the play of light and shadow, the curve of a tree branch, or the delicate petals of a wildflower.

As my eighteenth birthday drew near, a significant project took shape in my mind - a series of artworks that reflected the sacred bond between mates, a tribute to the Moon Goddess’s gift. I wanted to capture the essence of the mate bond, not just as a personal experience but as a universal connection that bound all werewolves together. I would come to work on this project everyday, and will continue to progress through the series documenting my experiences of finding and becoming a mate and the feelings that come with it.

So here I sat, overlooking the lake and waterfall with my sketchpad and charcoal in hand. I was hiding from the buzz of activity at the pack house as preparations for my eighteenth birthday celebration were in full swing. Once the sun set I was expected to be getting ready for the ceremony tonight. The eve of my eighteenth birthday felt like standing on a precipice, gazing out into a future that shimmered with both promise and uncertainty. The Silver Moon Pack’s traditions were clear and inviolable: my eighteenth birthday would mark not only my official entry into adulthood but also the awakening of my true wolf. It was an event laden with meaning, an indelible rite of passage that joined me to the lineage of countless shifters who had come before.