Lone Wolf

Not right. Not right. Not right.

The wind carried the words to Marcy over and over again. As the tendrils of cold air whispered along her skin , Marcy could feel the prickling judgement of the elements. As if the earth could sense what was within and understood better than most around her what could never be spoken.

The last two girls filed past, waving as they hurried home.

"Good night Luna!"

Marcy smiled and waved back at them. Dutifully watching as they disappeared into the dark night towards their home.

Her brother stepped out onto the porch, letting the screen door unnecessarily bang shut, as he joined Marcy at the railing. For a moment they said nothing.

"Mother asked to see us," He finally said.

Asked, as if they had a choice.

Marcy nodded, already dreading the tension she'd felt filling the house since the visitor had come this afternoon. He'd come to see the Alpha, but Marshall had been gone since dawn with the new recruits. As Luna, Marcy should have been next in line to entertain, but she'd been at the hospital seeing to patients. So their mother had taken the meeting.

Marcy was sure that the gods were upset with her for something, for whatever message he'd been sent to parlay, Marcy instinctually knew she'd be punished for. Mother hadn't dare speak to her tonight in front of the pack girls, but her eyes had taken a harshness Marcy knew far too well. Whatever news he'd brought was Marcy's fault, even if it really wasn't, she'd bear the consequences.

Taking one more blissful moment of silence, Marcy released one last breath into the night. The wind seemed to whistle in response. Not right.

The siblings walked back into the house together, climbing the steps up to Marshall's office where their mother was waiting. As they reached the door, there was a brief moment of awkwardness. As if they were each sizing each other up for who had the honor of going first. Who would bear their back to the other, leaving a message that they saw no threat.

Marshall nudged past Marcy, but some small, hidden part of her burned like she'd touched an open flame. Disrespect, it seemed to hiss. But, the Alpha was first. She reminded herself dully. Marshall was always to go first.

Their mother was standing, waiting for them in the center of the room. Marcy knew she wouldn't sit behind the desk, or do anything but shrewdly watch over them as we entered and closed the door. As if she had been able to sense the brief power stuggle they'd engaged in and was trying to suss out who'd won, or who'd given in.

Marshall approached her, bending to press his cheek to hers in greeting. Marcy met her eyes, but couldn't bring herself to do the same. To give her mother that tender gesture. Instead, she respectfully lowered her eyes, dipping her head in the direction of her mother. The slight scent of her displeasure wafted towards Marcy. Another thing she'd pay for.

Marshall settled behind his desk in the oversized chair that still seemed to dwarf him. When he'd first taken over as Alpha from their father he'd been little more than 15. A boy, still angular and half formed. Ten years later his form had filled out, honed by his training regimen, but to Marcy it still seemed as though he was unable to command the seat like their father had.

Weak.

She stepped closer to the desk, ignoring the thought. Their mother watched her, sharp eyes narrowing, for a moment longer before turning her attention to Marshall.

"Who was the visitor, what did he want?"

The better question would have been, how did he get in? That the men on the border let him through with no alarm sounded, emissary from a powerful ally was Marcy's guess. These days though, they barely had enough men for a full patrol. He just as well could have slipped in, she thought with a pang of embarrassment. A whisper of what their pack had once been, the strength of the West.

"He was seeking information. One of the Kings is looking for something, sending messengers across the plains. Promise of a great reward for whoever can bring him what he seeks."

"A hunt." Marshall mused.

"Or a game." Said Marcy. Perhaps between the far Kings, stirring to prove something to each other. Or in boredom, as if their long lives weren't entertaining enough without antagonizing each other.

"They don't normally play their games this far West."

Right. They didn't usually venture this far West because there was little worth seeing. Who wanted to play when all the West could offer was a people on the brink between survival and starvation. There was no heart here. Not like the stories she'd heard of the capital cities the East boasted. Or the sharp beauty of the Northern peaks, offering a raw and untamed forests. Even the Southern ports, in their laze of warmth and prosperity, still had more to offer than the Western woods.

No, the Kings never looked here. Even those wishing to disappear thought twice about coming this way. What would be the point? There was no where to hide, no mercy to be had. The only wolf to seek shelter here in all of Marcy's life had been the lone she-wolf, Cassandra. Why she'd picked this godforsaken place Marcy would never know. Or why she stayed these last two years.

Marcy had been there the day she'd been found. A young guard crashing into their home, screaming about a wolf, collapsed and bleeding just within their border. Marcy had been the only one of the Alpha family home, so she'd followed the guard. Hoping to use her time working with the healers to good use.

When they'd gotten to the border, Marcy had been hit with a wave of dominance, she no longer wondered why the guards had been in such a frenzy. Even unconscious, every instinct signaled that this wolf was not to be ignored.

An Alpha then, and a strong one at that. Marcy tried to run through her knowledge of the other packs, the other heirs, to guess at who this could possibly be. To understand if the bleeding wolf left on her land was an act of aggression, or an ally begging for help. And yet, as Marcy knelt to the dirt next to the wolf to attempt to find the source of bleeding, she could not remember a single Alpha with this coloring and this strength. The Western Alphas were said to all come from one pack, one Alpha who split his land rather than have his sons fight. Today they had little in common but their distinctive amber colored fur. Marcy couldn't exactly tell what color the wolf's fur was, but knew enough of her own that she instinctively knew that this wolf could not belong to a Western Alpha.

Marcy was still mulling over who this wolf could be when she finally found the source of bleeding. A nasty bite, creeping towards the left flank, as if wolf had turned just as the attacker had been latching onto their soft underbelly. This wolf was lucky, another few inches and their attacker would have de-boweled them. As Marcy began to pack the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding enough that they could bring the wolf into the hospital, she realized what was still bothering her about this Alpha. This Alpha was a female.

Marcy had barely a second to think. The border guards had given her space to work, and could be convinced that the innate wariness they felt was due to how injured she was, a last resort to push off would be hunters. But Marcy had to act fast, get this wolf away before someone more senior arrived to see the fuss. She cursed to herself, this wolf was in more danger here just from being what she was than the injury itself. Before she could doubt herself she sent a fierce gaze towards the young guard.

"We need to get this wolf off the ground now. Every second they're more at risk from infection."

The guard nodded, eyes wide at his Luna's tone.

"I'll run for the healers, have them send more help."

"No," Marcy said sharply, "We don't have time to wait, this needs to happen now.

She looked around, locking eyes on the old hunting cabin 100 yards away. That'll do, she thought.

"Me and you, we're going to move this wolf to that cabin."

The guard, not as naive as she originally believed, hesitated. As if he knew how far this went against protocol.

"Unless you want to be responsible for their death, get up and help me now. Saving a life is more important than the chain of command," Marcy growled.

The guard had the sense to look guilty. Together, they hefted the wolf up. The guard supporting the wolf's slack head and neck, while Marcy made sure to hold her rear, guarding the injury. The slowly moved the wolf to the cabin, half in disrepair, but still dry inside. Marcy cringed as they set the wolf down, non too gently, on a wooden table left in the cabin. Not so clean that her excuse to avoid the sterile healers ward would hold for long.

Some God must have been looking over her shoulder that day, for she'd been able to buy just enough time. Send the guard for more supplies, stop the bleeding, convince the healers to leave the wolf be. Marshall and Marcy's mother had been none too happy that she'd let an unknown wolf stay within their territory. Even when Marcy claimed she couldn't bear to see such a powerless young female wolf hurt so badly. She'd prayed that day, and every one since, that no one would look too closely at the wolf who still lived on their border. Hoped that their prejudice against outsiders would be just enough of a buffer that no one would realize what now resided within their borders.

Marcy's mother clicked her tongue, bringing Marcy back to the present. She'd been studying their interaction, purposefully baiting the siblings to see how they thought, who could best the other.

"In a way you're both right," her mother admitted, "the messenger was vague. But the Wvorian King is seeking a female of considerable power and will reward anyone who points him in the direction of one."

Her mother didn't have to say it, they could all read between the lines. A female Alpha? Something like fear crept up Marcy's spine. Coming here to seek a female like that couldn't mean anything good, especially when the traditions of the West were well known.

Marcy found her mother's eyes on her, as she knew she would. She swallowed her feelings, trying to pull up an indifferent mask.

"What did you tell him?"

Her mother smiled, a wicked thing, "I told him the truth. There are no female Alphas in the West."

And there never will be. The words were unspoken, but Marcy knew they were aimed for her.

Marshall nodded, breaking a tension Marcy hadn't realized was growing.

"Interesting, we'll have to remain alert, then. To see what comes of this search. I'll reach out the Braxon's and see if their pack has been targeted too. Perhaps this is simply a test, or some maneuver to unnerve us."

The dismissal in Marshall's words were also clear. Leave him to deal with it. Marcy didn't bother feeling annoyed at the insult she felt certain was present within his words, no, she was just grateful that no one had remembered the she-wolf on the border. Marcy was almost at the door when her mother spoke again.

"And maybe it's time to spend more time with the wolf on our border. She appears and now we're getting visits from the King?"

Marcy's heart froze. Of course her mother wouldn't forget. This was bad. So very bad.

"And Marcy," her mother added, "I'd like to discuss your performance tonight downstairs."

Marcy's heart dropped further. She'd known how this night would end, but some small light within her flickered out. She could only nod and begin making her way downstairs. Her feet feeling like lead. Past the first flight of stairs, down towards the basement. To a small dark room that always smelled faintly of bleach.

Marcy barely thought as she knelt on the ground in front of a small wooden table, taking off her shirt and neatly folding it beside her. The movements a muscle memory. It could have been hours she sat in the dark, waiting for her mother, or minutes. She never knew.

Soon enough though her mother was there, holding the a belt she'd had specially made just for this purpose.

"I am disappointed in you Marcy. I thought we'd been doing better than this. Don't think I'd didn't notice the way you treated your brother. Your Alpha."

Marcy didn't respond, she'd already descended into some hollow place within herself. It was better this way. She almost felt as though she was floating outside of herself, detached and watching as her mother paced the floor slowly behind her. She wouldn't tell her when she'd begin, she wouldn't tell her how long it would last. When she'd found an angle she preferred, her mother whipped the flat leather belt across Marcy's spine, over the pink flesh of a newly healed skin, barely pausing long enough for Marcy to choke out the words she knew by heart.

Over and over. Until the only thing Marcy could hear was herself whispering, "There are no female Alphas in the West."