The pack in the south lived on the coast, they didn't really have much going for them except their fishing industry. They didn't care for technology, barely cared about education unlike the pack in the north. It was traditional, a traditional culture.
The Alpha, not all, but most especially ones that lived on the coast would go to work at the break of dawn to go fishing. The fish they would catch would often be used for ruts and heats. By all means, they were a weak pack. With a weak leader. Zhiliary considered them no threat at all. They knew their place.
The pack leader, like most Alphas within the pack, got up early around four in the morning. Sometimes five. That day, she got up like any other day and went to the kitchen to start her routine as her mate laid in bed still.
She went and grabbed her fishing rod off its hook by the door, slipping her boots on to continue her routine.
The morning air pressed against her skin, thick with salt and the damp promise of rain. She inhaled deeply, and froze. The scent was wrong. Not the usual brine and rotting seaweed, but something like, like a different scent from...a different species. Her nose twitched.
The fishing rod's weight was familiar in her hand, the worn grip molded to her calluses. She hesitated at the threshold, shoes sinking slightly into the sand.
The sparse woods loomed behind their settlement, silent. When she stepped outside, she felt the breeze, the salt from the ocean and from it, it brought the scent of the species.
"What is that smell?" She asked herself, closing the door behind her.
She stood still for a few moments, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, trying to identify the scent. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was different. It wasn't from anyone in her pack, she knew that much, and it wasn't from any of the predators in the woods either.
She stood along with the others on the beach, they could all smell it too and then, she saw it, from a distance. Ships coming their way to land. She was aware of who it was, it all made sense now.
It was the elves coming from Dimona...it was war. Over on their sitting boats were white flags. This pack, the southern pack, had no desire to fight this war. A war they were forced to be apart of. Just like this country they were forced to be apart off, all wolves being split up into just four packs. Tsk. What wolf wanted that?
She couldn't speak, but she could hear the others murmuring amongst themselves, some were whimpering, others were angry. She walked forward, the sand shifting beneath her feet as she moved toward the shoreline where those bastard elves would land.
She could see them now, faces like porcelain painted with arrogance, their armor gleaming under the weak morning sun. Their boats cut through the waves with unnatural silence, no creaking wood or shouting warriors. They were here and this pack would submit...easily.
The ships docked and the elves began to come down, but what shocked the wolves was there was one person who clearly wasn't an elf.
"A witch?" The Alpha asked herself.
Kara stepped onto the water but not walking, not wading in it. Instead she was on top of it, walking toward them. The Alpha stepped forward since this was her pack after all, all the millions of them. She wanted to roll her eyes, hating she had to lead so many. So many who didnt even want her to be their Alpha.
Kara followed behind the Alpha as the Alpha led the way back home. It would seem she wouldn't be fishing that morning or day. She opened the door and Kara stepped inside, the lights coming on.
Needless to say, Kara didnt expect to be sitting in the personal residence of the Alpha. This Alpha seemed so meek and uneagered.
"You're part witch," the Alpha asked.
"Yes," Kara answered.
"And you're the one married to that one Alpha. The Alpha that Zhiliary fears," the Alpha said, trying to think of the name.
Kara's eyes got wide m, to hear that her ex-mate was afraid of Sous was not what she was expecting on her bingo card that day.
"Would you like some tea?" The Alpha asked.
"Yes, please," Kara responded back.
The Alpha nodded, turning away from Kara to begin preparing the tea, stepping away fromnthe living room and heading to the kitchen.
She moved with the quiet efficiency of someone who'd performed this ritual a thousand times before, mainly because she didn't want to wake her mate. It was still early.
Her fingers brushed against the ceramic teapot, a chipped thing, its glaze worn smooth along the handle where her grip had settled over the years.
Kara let her gaze wander across the living room, a shelf sagged under the weight of mismatched trinkets: seashells, a rusted compass, a child's crude clay sculpture of a wolf.
One corner held a pile of mending, tangled fishing nets and torn trousers, abandoned mid-repair. The hearth was cold, ashes long since swept away. It was all so bleak.
The Alpha returned, balancing two cups on a warped wooden tray. Steam curled lazily from the surface, carrying the faint scent of chamomile and something bitter beneath it, like crushed dandelion root.
She set the tray down on the low table between them with deliberate slowness, the wood groaning under the weight. The Alpha sat back down as Kara took a sip.
"So...you're not going to fight?" The Omega asked. "You have the numbers for it."
"You see, Zhiliary split Canas up into four packs. But by doing so, she forced many packs to come together under one, forming a new pack with a new lead Alpha."
"Many didn't like that," Kara added.
"You guessed it!"
"And no one was brave enough or strong enough to fight back."
"Right again," the Alpha confirmed, finishing her tea and setting it down. "Apex came out of no where, forced us into one unit in the south, placed me in command, and made us forget all our previous packs. You see," the Alpha exclaimed. "She wanted to 'unify' us."
"You're not loyal to Apex?"
"Fear does not bring forth loyalty, my dear," the Alpha said. Kara smirked, loving that answer.