Famine
MAGNUS
The sun's bright rays heated the burning red ground, the shiny blue sky free of clouds. An oppressive heat settled over the land, drying throats and leaving them scratchy.
Amidst the scorching scene, the only relief was the river's soothing melody as it unleashed its rage upon the rocks.
Footsteps echoed in the forest, branches crackling under heavy weights. Moving swiftly, they left nature undisturbed, their location secret. Deeper they ventured until, abruptly, they all came to a halt.
Two fingers pointed to the left, and they all nodded, resuming their hunt. They passed trees and trails until they reached their destination: a herd of deer, a reliable food source for the pack.
As they closed in, anticipation hung in the air. His father, with long black hair in a ponytail, led the way. Blue paint on his cheeks melted under the burning sun, trickling down to his jaw.
His green eyes scanned the horizon, his bare back displaying a black ink wolf. Coming to a stop, he parted the leaves obstructing their view, revealing...
Death.
In the fresh grass where live deer should stand, carcasses and blood stains covered the area. Someone had beaten them to the meal. The man tilted his head, his eyes turning cold, frowning upon the scene.
Magnus drew the same conclusion as his father, discernible from the look in the older man's eyes. It was them—the panthers.
He observed as his father's grip tightened around his lance before the man sharply turned his head toward their people.
"We return to our abode."
A few expressions registered surprise, but compliance prevailed, and they retraced their steps. This time, the forest wasn't hushed as they walked; all of them shifted back into their wolf forms. Maintaining a uniform speed, they followed their leader closely—everyone except Magnus.
Walking side by side inadvertently emphasized their shared heritage: matching long black hair, matching green eyes. The sole distinction lay in their status; his father, the Alpha, and himself, the second in command.
While he had the privilege of adorning war paint, his was dyed in shades of purple.
He had hoped to engage his father in conversation, but the older man's brisk pace betrayed an undercurrent of anger. "Have they committed this massacre?" Magnus silently communicated through the bond.
"Their foul odor permeated the surroundings."
His own nose had recoiled in disgust, a part of him praying it was a lingering scent rather than irrefutable proof. The loathsome panthers continued to encroach on their territory, pilfering what didn't belong to them.
Their pack had drawn closer to theirs in winters past, but only recently had they breached the boundaries. Lately, they engaged in theft, killing, and stalking around their territory.
It was evident that action needed to be taken, yet their pack faced a daunting challenge— their numbers were insufficient.
Panthers maintained unity, forming a formidable army. In contrast, wolves dispersed into various groups and packs across the region.
While the preference for smaller packs proved advantageous in normal circumstances, the current situation proved to be a hindrance.
Whether weaker or stronger, it mattered not; the sheer numerical advantage of the panthers was insurmountable. They continued to pillage and steal, leaving the wolves with two choices: fight or flee.
They refused to submit to weakness. The territory had been theirs for centuries, and the panthers couldn't lay claim to it.
"We cannot overlook this matter."
"I am aware," his father responded, his gaze narrowed. "We shall deliberate on it with the pack."
"But if we depart forthwith—"
"Son. Cease. We will await our return to the pack."
Magnus's upper lip curled, a visible sign of his frustration, before he offered a polite nod. Allowing his father to pass, he resumed his forward movement. Though he held respect for his father as the leader, he couldn't help but disdain this display of weakness.
His father's deliberate actions had led them to this point. Laurus had chosen to trust the panthers, believing they would honor the invisible boundaries.
He should have known better.
The panthers scoffed at their trust, seizing their meat and animals, leaving without repercussions or providing for their pack. It was a mockery, a joke.
People would lose faith in their leader, and their chances would diminish.
"What words did you share with Father this time?"
"It's not your concern, little brother."
He didn't need Domini's taunts. His brother wouldn't understand. Domini lacked aspirations, a future. As the second son, if their father failed, none of the pressure or expectations fell on him.
Life for Domini was a breeze. Nothing mattered.
As a son of the Alpha, Domini could wear paint, but he chose not to. Disregarding traditions, he kept his black hair in a braid, having cut it many times before—an act of disrespect.
Long hair symbolized success, and every time his brother cut his hair, he disrespected their Alpha, appearing weak in the process.
But he never cared about that.
Because he never had to be anybody.
"Magnus," he said, attempting to taunt him, an elbow jabbing him in the ribs.
Magnus' annoyance increased, but he refused to give his little brother the satisfaction by turning his head. "Domini, would you cease talking?"
Though they might not be hunting anymore, he preferred if they kept silent. Now that he was aware of the panthers' audacious behavior, he didn't put it past them to be lurking around their pack.
What else were they doing undetected? How were they spying on them?
Magnus aimed to stay alert, prepared for the potential need to protect themselves. It wasn't a concept someone as foolish as his little brother could grasp.
All he could do was keep an eye out, ignore Domini, and hope that his father would see the truth before it was too late.
***
The night had drawn near, darkness swallowing the sky as they returned without a bounty. Faint whispers trailed them, acknowledging their empty-handed return, but no one dared to voice questions or concerns.
No one spoke ill of their Alpha or his sons. Despite the challenges, they provided for the pack and kept them safe. Respect for his father was unwavering, tinged with a hint of fear.
It was enough for now.
His father had disappeared upon their return, leaving Magnus in charge of distributing the stocked food among the pack members.
He carried out the task, anticipating the moment his father would include him in their plans. He disliked being sidelined; he didn't want someone else to fix the situation.
It was too late for that—they needed to act.
"Still vexed?"
Magnus glanced sideways, discovering his brother smirking. "Seek other diversions."
"Why? This is far more amusing."
"Magnus."
It wasn't an order or a greeting. His father was reprimanding him, and only him, as always.
"Laurus," a short black-haired man interrupted as he reached their side.
His father's attention shifted away from him. "Clear the gathering, Yosef. We have much to deliberate."
A swift nod ensued as Yosef complied, following his father's directives. "Domini, make your way back to your mate as well."
Domini raised an eyebrow. "Father?"
Laurus quelled his son by raising a finger. "This matter does not concern you. Only your brother is involved."
A glare was aimed at Magnus, but Domini restrained his anger in the presence of the Alpha. Nonetheless, he remained in place until his father departed.
"Some among us enjoy the privilege of rejoining their woman."
Magnus glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, a fiery light illuminating his gaze. Yes, his little brother had taken a mate before him, but it didn't matter. Whomever Domini married held no significance.
Magnus would replace his father as the next Alpha, and he needed to find a strong female for healthy heirs—his duty and responsibility. A concept foreign to his younger brother.
He wasn't jealous of Domini, but the day when Domini took Sasha as his mate was a painful memory. While his brother could choose any woman, Magnus had to select someone approved by his father.
A mate wasn't just for bear cubs; she would be his companion and, once he became Alpha, the person right underneath him. He didn't want to despise that person, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the one his father would choose wouldn't be right.
Since it was decided for him, he couldn't defy traditions and rules.
"Some among us did not choose their first companion lightly."
Before any further discourse unfolded, a resolute voice cut through. "Domini."
Both siblings turned their heads to the left, swiftly bowing slightly. "Mother," they both intoned in unison.
Approaching them was their mother, Laila, a frown etched on her face. Her long black hair was intricately braided and adorned with hundreds of beads in shades of blue and red.
She wore a simple, flowing white dress that hung loosely, revealing glimpses of her skin.
She extended her arm toward her youngest son, revealing intricate swirls of ink on her inner left arm. "Follow your father's instructions."
Domini obeyed without another glance at Magnus. While their father held the title of Alpha, their mother commanded an equal level of respect.
Both brothers revered their mother more than their father.
Magnus dared not disrespect his mother, Laila, by looking away; his gaze remained fixed on her. Laila served as his second mother, as his first had perished when he was just a cub.
In their culture, if a mate died, her family had to provide a sister or another relative to replace her. All children she bore were considered offspring of the deceased female.
Thus, Laila was their mother by title, but she was merely the vessel that carried Willow's children.
Laila neared Magnus, laying a hand against his cheek. She ran her thumb over his skin. "It is challenging for him. You are the eldest."
Although Laila was a loving and nurturing mother to him, Magnus received less care compared to Domini. At a very young age, his father took him on hunts and battles, exposing him to the harsh realities of the world from the beginning.
Left alone in the forest, abandoned by everyone, he was forced to find his way back. As the firstborn of the Alpha, failure in such a task meant he didn't deserve to live.
Despite being barely over seven summers old, Magnus returned to the pack, adorned with a few scars and permanent wounds. His pride was immense, earning approval from his pack.
Since that incident, however, he was held to a higher standard and always had to excel.
"I understand, mother."
Her smile remained radiant, yet it veiled a subtle shadow. "Now, proceed. Do not keep your father waiting."
Magnus nodded before pulling away from his mother's touch. He followed the orders from both parents and joined the four people standing in a circle around the burning fire.
Moving between his father and Hans, an elder pack member, Magnus came to a full stop. The other members averted their gaze from him, focusing their attention on the fire.
Hans opened his hand, tossing dark auburn leaves into the fire, producing a dark grey, almost bluish smoke. He mumbled a quick incantation before facing Alpha Laurus again.
"Thou may commence," he addressed Laurus.
Laurus raised his arms into the air, eyes closed for a moment before pressing the palms of his hands together. "Friends," he declared, "it appears the panthers have begun their invasion of our territories. They have stolen our brothers, consumed our animals, and laid claim to our lands."
Advancing a step, he continued, "We have upheld the peace, permitted them near our pack without disruption. However, they have brought forth death and suffering upon us. This predicament can no longer be overlooked. To cower in fear would make us cowards, and they shall annihilate us."
"The panthers outnumber us," Elrich stated, his green eyes gleaming. "To confront them directly would lead to our demise."
Laurus raised his hand. "I am aware of this reality. This is why we must convene on this matter." He turned to his son. "Magnus. You may freely speak your mind."
Magnus straightened his back, feeling the gaze of his peers upon him. After being disregarded earlier, he hadn't expected to be given the chance to speak.
He wouldn't let this moment be wasted.
"We cannot assault them at full force, but mayhaps we could catch them unawares."
"Devise a strategy?" Julis inquired, hesitation evident in his voice.
Magnus nodded before swiftly turning to point toward the forest. "This is our land; we possess superior knowledge of it. If we plan sagaciously, we could outmaneuver them."
Elrich shook his head. "It is too perilous. Cunning matters little if they can overwhelm us with their superior numbers."
Magnus felt anger simmer within him. Why couldn't they grasp that strategy might free them from the panthers? The longer they hesitated, the more the panthers' numbers would swell.
Time was a luxury they didn't have.
Yet, they possessed the advantage of intimate knowledge of the territories. Every creek, every river, every tree—they knew it all. These lands flourished under their care.
Their pack expanded, and so did their domain.
The initial mistake was allowing the panthers to settle near them. They should have taken drastic action from the start.
"We could augment our ranks," Hans quietly pointed out.
His words captured everyone's attention. Heads turned, eyes focused on the oldest member of the pack before he began speaking.
His eyes closed, he inhaled the blue smoke as if it would aid him in voicing his thoughts.
"We are not the only wolf pack in the area. There are four others that we know of. One of them could be reached within a few nights if we hurry," Hans stated.
Laurus acknowledged Hans with a touch on his left shoulder, then extended his hand in gratitude.
"Yes, friend. If we could only augment our numbers with another pack, our victory could be assured," Laurus affirmed.
Agreement spread among the others as they nodded and bowed repeatedly.
"I, Magnus, Domini, and Yosef shall depart at sunrise. We will meet with the pack leader and discuss our troubles with them. Does such a decision please us all?" Laurus inquired.
"Yes," came the unanimous response.
"Now," Hans continued, reaching for a pile of green powder on the floor. "We thank the Gods for their help." With these words, he threw the powder upon the fire, extinguishing it immediately.
All pressed three fingers on the left side of their heads and remained in silence. Once the fire died out, and the threads of smoke ceased, they opened their eyes.
The members dispersed except for Laurus and Magnus.
The Alpha walked near Magnus, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Be ready tomorrow. We will have to be vigilant.”
“Yes, father.”
Laurus nodded, slipping his hand away before heading toward their castle, presumably to join Laila. Meanwhile, Magnus stood there, unable to move.
The wind picked up, tangling his hair with the earring on his right ear—a long thread with a small shiny purple stone, his first mother's, meant for his future mate.
However, a mate wasn't his concern. What bothered him was how his father treated him. As the next in line to be Alpha, he should have more responsibilities and be consulted more.
His father didn't even grace him with an answer to his plan or ask personally about joining forces with another pack.
He clenched his hand into a fist, disliking the idea of his father doubting his abilities. Respectful, stoic, and likely the strongest in the pack, he shouldn't be treated as a mere cub.
His honor felt tarnished each time his father treated him like a commoner.
Magnus hoped this trip would be his chance to prove himself.
