LERRIN - Anima

Lerrin stood, half-crouched, peering through the trees in the WildWood, South of the Tree City, his heart pounding.

He had led two fists of Lupine hunters into the enemy territory this morning. When their spy had been assigned a routine scouting that morning, he's sworn himself purple. But it had been the Creator's hand and he hadn't even realized it until the bird found them while he'd been circling on the King's travels. He'd landed quickly and filled Lerrin in on what they'd been doing. But with no pack mind to connect to spy to see what he'd seen, and with the time passing since the Bird had seen the King, they'd made a plan for him to lead his partner over the archers, then return and send the King back so he'd run into them.

Then Lerrin's first fist had found the trail of the Herd Captain.

The Fist Leader sent the scent and the image of the track through the pack mind and Lerrin smiled grimly and nodded his agreement, sending his permission in return.

Though he could feel the excitement of the fist, anticipating the hunt, they launched silently in pursuit. Even he didn't hear them move despite how closely they travelled. They would track silently until they were certain of the enemy's position.

But Lerrin held his Fist, only five now, back.

Much as he hated to admit it, the Cat was a fierce opponent. He had almost fooled them this morning—their intelligence indicating that the King would leave from the North, or the east. And so they had circled the Tree City overnight to come in behind after his absence. And instead, the Creator had blessed them.

If his wolves played this correctly, they could win this war on the very first day. But they did not have the numbers he would have chosen for this kind of confrontation—forced to leave those who'd been placed to take the King as he travelled and then attack City, in their positions so that his males and females couldn't be taken by surprise from the rear.

So, Lerrin was resolved. He would not send his fist in until they were certain who was present, and what dangers they faced.

But Lucine, hearing that the Queen was with the King, and giving in to her impatience, had already slunk away into the forest alone when Lerrin was distracted—leaving her post in the fist, and silencing the pack mind without permission. Though she would have argued that she didn't need it, which made Lerrin want to bite something. Preferably her. He'd been forced to tell the others that he'd told her to go so they wouldn't bring her for censure themselves, later.

No matter her Alpha status, a pack soldier never left their post when the lives of others could depend on it.

He and his sister would have words this night.

Again.

He took a deep breath. Lucine knew that. She wasn't… herself. Ever since the shunning, despite her father's reassurance that they'd return her to her rightful position as quickly as possible, her behavior had been increasingly erratic. He'd suffered niggling concerns that Lucine had been unhinged by everything that had happened with that cunt of a cat—this traitorous King. And the fact that she'd left this morning—not only abandoned a strategic post, but left alone—made his fears loom again. She hated that he still viewed her as his cub sister, but the instinct was near impossible to stifle. No matter how strong she was. She'd been his shadow since he was three years old.

With a growl, he pushed the emotional thoughts away. It wasn't a problem he could solve right now. Right now he needed to restrain those in his fist that wished to run with their brothers, to follow the hunt, to howl.

Sending orders for silence and caution through the pack mind, they began creeping forward again, still scanning for scents, still examining the forest for tracks.

The Herd Captain had been unwise, sticking close to the paths. It made him easier to follow, easier to find again when the trail was lost.

In their strength, these leaders had become complacent and weak.

Lerrin had not. Through the struggle, he had been honed. And while his rise to Alpha Male had not occurred as he would have chosen it, still his blood pulsed with the Alpha power now—the call of his brothers and sisters, their admiration, their strength offered as tools to his hands. He brimmed with it.

They would remake the WildWood in the image of the True Pack—the true power. The Tribe that understood, family before all.

He shivered as he crept through the forest, the power surging in his veins until his brothers felt it and some began to pant.

It was only a matter of time before he and his sister took the Tree City and the cat King was dead—or at least, castrated.

Lucine's goal kept shifting. Lerrin would appease her, either way. He didn't care if the cat lived or died, only that he became the symbol to the Anima of what occurred to those who resisted the Wolf.

His father would have been proud…

The ache of grief forced him to shake off the thought, cut himself off from the pack mind and find his rest again. He could not allow the others to sense the weakness that washed over him with the images of his father, no longer beast, his cold skin gray and eyes blank, all because of that **ing cat.

Rage burned in his chest and his hands clenched. He forced himself to keep moving, keep tracking, to breathe so his heart would slow. He would rejoin the pack mind soon, when he was calmer. Less shaken. The wolves were strong—and merciless. Any hint of weakness would only end in challenges among them. And though Lerrin knew he could take any wolf that thought to claim his power, it would waste time and energy to be consumed by fighting among themselves. So he would guard his mind from—

A tiny, high-pitched whine rose in the forest.

One of his brothers.

Then another.

What was going on? Lerrin, frowned and cautiously opened himself to the pack mind—then snarled as the force of the sending almost put him off his feet.