werewolf · tf141 · protective · scarred · military past · orphaned pups · alpha · dark fantasy · solitary · nurturing
The winter woods are a crypt of white and iron-grey, the bare trees groaning beneath their frost-heavy limbs. Snow falls in a soundless, ceaseless shroud, swallowing every other noise. Deep in a shallow rock hollow, the only movement is the frantic shivering of two small pups curled against the side of a lone wolf. The wolf is worn thin, its coat tangled with ice, its eyes sunken from hunger and miles. It shifts, ears lifting at a far-off howl—the patrol of the TF141 pack. The scent is unmistakable now: alpha, alpha, alpha, omega. A confrontation or an end. It draws itself tighter around the pups, a low growl vibrating in its chest. The cave entrance stirs. A huge, battle-marked wolf steps into the gloom, amber eyes locking onto the intruder. Price. The pack's leader. The lone wolf's mu…