Starting in the north, there was a werewolg pack known for their studious wolves. The ones who held professions in medical, education, and technology-as much of technology a wolf could be innovated by. But that day was special, well most days were importing, for toward the evening, there was a sparring match that took place starting in the fall.
For those who lived near the area, they could come and view the event, but for those who lived nowhere near by, they had to watch on the television or even listen on the radio, maybe stream on the internet.
The sparring circle was a stretch of packed earth surrounded by feathery pines, needles crunching underfoot as spectators shifted nervously.
Inside, two werewolves circled each other, muscles coiled like steel springs beneath their fur. The larger one, a gray brute named Kael, bared his fangs in a silent snarl that exposed glistening saliva.
His opponent, a lean female called Nyx, moved with liquid grace, her dark pelt absorbing the fading daylight as she feinted left. No growls echoed; only the sharp intake of breath through flared nostrils and the dull thud of paws testing the ground.
Kael lunged, a sudden blur of matted fur driving Nyx backward, her claws scraped deep grooves in the dirt as she skidded, barely avoiding the swipe meant for her throat. Her yellow eyes narrowed, calculating, as she regained balance.
High above the pine-scented arena, perched on the weathered timber bleachers, the Alpha watched.
His gaze, colder than the mountain streams feeding the valley below, tracked every shift of muscle, every twitch of ear. Silver streaks ran through his dark beard and hair, marking seasons of leadership; yet not a single strand stirred in the evening breeze.
Kael pressed his advantage, a relentless wave of snapping jaws and battering forelegs driving Nyx toward the pine boundary. Her ribs heaved, breaths sawing audibly through the rustling silence.
Dust rose in thin spirals where her paws dug trenches, the earthy scent mingling with pine resin and sweat-damp fur clinging to the humid air.
Nyx felt the boundary needles whisper against her hindquarters, the rough scrape grounding her in the split-second calculus of survival. Kael's momentum was his flaw, predictable power following its own crushing trajectory.
Her breath pitched up in her throat, raw and burning, as she coiled low.
Her hindquarters exploded upwards, launching her body sideways in a corkscrew twist Kael hadn't anticipated. His snapping jaws closed on empty space where her shoulder had been a heartbeat before.
Nyx landed silent as snowfall, already pivoting behind him, her movement economy lethal.
Using his forward stumble, Nyx struck.
One forepaw slammed against the thick tendon behind Kael's knee, buckling his leg with a sickening crackle-pop loud against the frozen silence.
POP!
CRACK!
Simultaneously, her muzzle darted upward, jaws clamping. Her teeth found the pressure point beneath his jaw, locking onto the vulnerable stretch where fur parted to reveal softer skin, pressing hard against the pulsing artery beneath. Her full weight anchored him down.
"ROOOAAAAAARR!!!" His roar choked into a guttural gasp halfway out.
Her yellow eyes blazed inches from his dilated pupils, unblinking, conveying the silent ultimatum: Yield, or feel the carotid tear beneath her fangs.
Kael went utterly still beneath her, every muscle locked in primal recognition of finality pressed against his throat. From the bleachers, the Alpha's stillness deepened while the crowd went wild!
Nyx joined in on the celebration that night with the other Alphas. She sat in a circle on a rug with Omegas dancing for them in the center, wine and other alcohol moving from one to another.
The firelight painted shifting patterns across Nyx's skin, now that she was no longer in her werewolf form as she inhaled deeply.
Her victory felt distant already, absorbed by the thrumming pulse of the pack celebration. The music wad moving fast and the Omegas kept up with the beat as everyone watched, happy, and loud, yelling. Their drinks tipping over, wetting the carpet.
She was tired and felt dizzy from the wine. Sweat gleamed on limbs shifting through complex patterns, a whirl of russet, charcoal, and moonlight-grey fur, punctuated by the sharp percussion of feet stamping on packed earth.
One Omega, a young female spun so fast her form blurred, becoming a dervish of dark and firelight before snapping into a sudden, statuesque pause.
Nyx tracked the synchrony of their breathing, the shared tremors that ran through the circle like a grounding wire, felt rather than seen. Her own ribs expanded slowly, matching their unseen rhythm.
"Nyx," the Alpha was standing behind her.
"Yes, Alpha!" She quickly stood to her feet.
"Walk with me."
Nyx followed without hesitation, her bare feet silent against the cool stone path as they left the drumming and firelight behind. The Alpha's posture remained rigid, carved from moonlight, betraying nothing.
They moved deeper into the pine forest encircling the settlement, where the air tasted cleaner, crisp with resin and damp earth after the smoky closeness of the feast.
"You seem taken aback with what happened," the Alpha said.
"I don't think I ever got use to us having such a blood ritual," she said, in a whisper. The Alpha placed his hand on her shoulder.
"That one Omega that was dancing, I think she wants to mate with you," he said.
She simply nodded her head.
"Listen, we failed taking the Island of Dimona and...we're at war," he said.
Nyx chuckled. "Its an island...how difficult could they be?"
"Their elves with stronger technology. They have a witch or two for their allies-"
"We have witches-"
"No...our witches are not loyal to us. Their witches are friends, friends they have a history with since they were kids," the Alpha explained. "They'll all attended the same school except one and that one is mated to one of them."
Nyx became quiet trying to let it sink in. She licked her lips, already knowing she was going to be the one to lead the battalion to war. She took a deep breath and exhaled.
"Alright," she said.