10 years later
Titania couldn’t help but let a scowl mar her features. The wolf in front of her made her upper lip curl; his cowardice tasting fowl on her tongue. Her wolf made her distaste known as the room was clogged with the thick scent of the rogue. So she sat there, unimpressed, awaiting for words to tumble out his mouth for she did not have the patience to deal with trespassing so early in the morning.
The man, not many years older than her, shook. Physically crumbled under her very presence. She sighed and straightened, having had enough of the wolf who had taken up her precious time.
“Since words seem to have escaped you, I will ask. Why were you caught over my pack lines?”
She kept her tone hard and impassive, ignoring the urge to just dispose of the male instead of bothering with pointless questioning. But, she held that passing thought to the back of her mind.
“I....I....was...” His stuttering was grating on her nerves but she continued to sit rigid. She found his increasing distress somewhat amusing. How the times had changed.
“I will ask once, and only once more. Why were you on Duskfall pack lands?” She spat.
Her Beta, Eóghan, stood perfectly still beside her. A hulk of a man with traditional Celtic copper hair and a beard that had several beads within its nest. With hawk-like precision, he continued to observe the interrogated wolf. No pack could be too careful with rogues. Especially after talk of a banished Alpha rounding them up. Shaping the insane and banished into what could be, a lethal pack, and Titania couldn’t help but lick her lips at such a challenge, even if it was just idle gossip. He too flashed teeth at the rogue and growled low. Knowing his past, Titania snapped at him, narrowly missing him. The Scotsman took this warning and remained calm, for Titania has stalked her claim on this man no matter how much his wolf inched for blood.
After the rogue refused to grant her an answer to her simple question, she nodded to her Gamma, Garth, who held him tightly in place.
Extending her claws, she approached a still shivering man holding the suspense and letting the mans fear fester through the cabin walls. She knew her reputation was that of a monster but who was this wolf afraid of? Her or whatever or whoever had pushed him onto her lands? Regardless of whichever it was, she had no purpose for such a cowering wolf. He was not of any use to her and in Werewolf life, it was survival of the fittest and this male, was not getting out her office breathing.
Tickling the mans slick skin with an extended claw she poked his eye clean out the socket.
A high pitched scream exited the rogue as blood pooled from the gaping hole. Eóghan was sure he saw brain tissue.
“Gurgh! My eye, it...its gone!” He screamed.
Unphased, Titania examined the eye on the end of her claw. A blank expression on her face, the real face of danger.
“Our Alpha won’t ask again.” Garth held him tighter as the man began to slump.
Stalking forward, Titania relished the unadulterated fear in the mans one good eye. “My gamma is right. I don’t like it when arrogant males come into my territory as if a female Alpha won’t bat an eyelash. But it looks like you found that my pedicured nails do hurt.” She sniggered as his face dropped further, knowing that mercy was not on the cards with the Satanist female bent on her hunkers in front of him.
“You refuse to tell me what I want to know which makes you useless to me.” She paused as she pretended to think and tapped a sarcastic finger to her forehead. “I wonder what on Earth I’m supposed to do with something as pathetic as you.”
At the change in tone, the rogue immediately tried to grasp his last chance. “Please Titania.. I mean Alp-”
In a quick gurgle, she partially shifted and slit her claws through the tender flesh of his windpipe. Rendering him breathless as he choked on the warm blood thumping throughout his body.
“We dispose of them.” Was the last sentence the rogue heard before he fell to Titania’s office floor.
She wiped the bloodstains from her hands on a cloth she kept tucked into her jean pockets. Emotionlessly, she turned to the two males that she could just tolerate and pointed towards the mess of the rogue that had been struggling just moments before, “Get this cleaned up then do a sweep of the borders. There will be no more rogue sightings. Kill on sight.”
Garth smirked, appreciating his Alpha’s boundless cruelty. The order was one he would fulfil without complaint as he would not allow a common rogue wolf to take any game that was limited in the highlands. Meanwhile, Eóghan agreed with the necessity of such an order, but unlike his fellow wolf brothers and sisters who enjoyed the hunt, he did not enjoy the act itself. Eóghan was coldly practical, but delving deeper than the surface, he had something warmer than what many wolves in the Highlands had.
“Oh and Eóghan.” He turned in the doorway. “Remember who the Alpha is here.”
He gulped and nodded as they both left Titania’s office. Leaving her to her own musings. She paced and sifted through what she’d learned from the rogue: which was abysmal, and turned her attention to the map of the Scottish Highlands pinned on the hard wall. She traced her boundary lines, which ran from the famous Loch Ness and trailed many miles north. Including multiple mountain ranges and steep inclines. While a full sweep of her borders would take her warriors hours she refused to show compromise. Safety was key and despite the treacherous land, she held firm. She would rather kill a hundred rogues than let her kin be killed.
She flicked the eyeball skewered like a kebab off her nail. Where it landed beside the limp body of the man. A quick scowl was all she gave the mass before loosing interest in the life lost, picking up the paperwork that had been accumulating, much to her dismay.
Skimming through the patrol rotas she made the additional changes for the warriors. While this would challenge her pack she knew that safety was the priority. Her pack, which she had built from blood and bone had formed about 6 years ago and thrived in the isolated terrain that no pack touched. Surrounding packs didn’t care for the land she now claimed as many found it inhabitable. And from there, the wolves she called packmates either survived in such extreme conditions or died trying.
Oak and iron guard me well, or else I’m dead and doomed to hell.
This saying, mentality and the iron will from the wolves who had survived many winters by her side had earned a reputation, one that many seemed to underestimate. But those who could survive the biting winter could survive almost anything. And their ice cold Alpha took no prisoners.
This was the Duskfall pack, one of the strongest in the European continent. Titania’s determination and discipline kept this pack living, breathing and scratching its way to the top. Her warriors were not weak. She was nothing of the sort. Titania was a warrior in herself, for she had survived plenty more battles than those fought with just tooth and claw: the great one was forged from something much darker.
But she didn’t dwell on what pushed her to become bigger, better. For vengeance was a sweet thing best served with the bloodlust that boiled underneath the surface and she had years worth of deadly intent to follow through with her promises.