Venting His Anger

Hours before the call from Beta Seymor to Diana...

“Alpha Dylan, our men received your command. They are on their way to the Crescent Pack,” said the man, wrapped in a cloak. The lush forest reflected on his deep emerald eyes with a good amount of specks of gold. He stared ahead while he was one step behind the towering man, who was also in a cloak.

Around them were dozens of people who were also wearing cloaks from a variety of fabrics—they made theirs as pungent as possible to confuse their enemies with their original scents. Disappearing and appearing between the pine trees and the oak trees that littered the northern territorial entrance of the Crescent Pack, people from different packs would pass by this part since this was a no-man territory and it was the shortest roué to the Werewolf Committee.

A fraction of his blonde locks protruded from the hood while he was keeping up with the other man’s pace. “Crescent is a lively place to settle in, yeah? Too bad it did not treat Miss Ritchell well.”

His chatter was immediately silenced when his ears twitched upon hearing a familiar guttural growl. The man before him spoke for the first time since they walked past the borders of the Blood Claws Pack’s grasslands. “Do not be fooled, Beta Seymor. Everything can change in a blink of an eye.”

Kicking the pile of pebbles as he trudged next to his superior, Beta Seymor remained silent. But it could not contain the rush inside his mind for someone like him who was used to the blood and guts whenever he was by his alpha’s side.

‘The festival for the Welcoming Ceremony will happen this midnight! The Blood Claws Pack rarely accepts pack mates after all. I wonder how is our future Luna.’ Beta Seymor thought giddily in his mind.

Lost in his thoughts about the festivities way back in his pack, which the they did not celebrate because of this mission, he did not see his superior walking in the right side direction. The next thing Beta Seymor knew, his forehead made contact with someone else’s back, followed by an annoyed grunt.

“What the hell?”

Snapped from his reverie, it was too late for Beta Seymor to stop himself from getting involved. Before him, a heaving man turned to him. His eyes blazed with fury at the crate of spilled apples before he turned to him.

“Have you got no eyes?”

“I am truly sorry, dude! I swear I did not see you but I got lost in my thoughts because hey tonight is something important to my friend  so – ”

“—shut the hell up, mutt!”

The next minute Beta Seymor knew, the annoyed man turned into a beast on four legs – he was a werewolf merchant delivering goods to nearby packs. His strong-looking jaws snapped into the air as he raced in his direction.

A protruding set of claws was about to reshape Beta Seymor’ arm, but was stopped midway when the werewolf, which was as tall as an adult man, rolled to the forest floor. With widened eyes, Beta Seymor gasped as his body was flipped to the other side—barely avoiding the werewolf’s attack by a hairbreadth. “Woah! You’re a lifesaver Al-er my friend!”

He almost blurted out his alpha’s real identity.

“Stay there and reflect on your mistakes,” said Alpha Dylan. His voice was imposing as he stepped forward before Beta Seymor.

The werewolf growled, shaking the tree branches around them—piles of leaves around them started to fall as the vibration continued along with the growls. The men who were with the werewolf picked the apples up. Their eyes darted from the goods before them and the scene unfolding around them.

“Hurry, mate! We have to deliver this to the next pack with lesser damage possible!”

A snapping growl answered the man before the werewolf’s salivating mouth aimed at Alpha Dylan, who was only standing—his stance did not care to move at all against the rushing copper-furred werewolf. But Beta Seymor knew. Beta Seymor knew how Alpha Dylan could snap the werewolf into two using only his untransformed hands.

Travelers that were about to leave the Crescent Pack through the northern passage and those who only stepped inside the Crescent Pack’s land flocked around the meadow where the brawl was ensuing between a werewolf and the men whose pack was yet to be identified.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Beta Seymor was blaming himself for making such a big fuss the moment they entered the Crescent Pack’s territory and it was something that was the opposite of what they were supposed to be doing.

Beta Seymor expected the werewolf’s spleen to be completely detached from its four-legged body the moment it entered Alpha Dylan’s attack range. What he did not expect was the onslaught of arrows that stopped the werewolf’s movement – the latter barely escaped the clutches of death. A knot lodged between his brows upon realizing that the arrows did not have an interval when they pierced through the cluster of snow straight to the forest floor – which meant they were fired and aimed together.

All eyes followed the direction where the arrows came from. A silhouette of a person stood atop the highest branch of the pine tree east of Beta Seymor and Alpha Dylan.

“Did that person calculate the werewolf’s mutt from that direction?” Beta Seymor could not help but question the reality. Even the greatest archers in the Blood Claws Pack did not have that kind of skill.

The enraged werewolf dashed to the base of the pine tree. A werewolf could do nothing, but growled and scratched the trunk of the enormous pine tree while looking up at the person standing above him.

“Mate, snap out of it! Take a look at the arrowheads!” The words from the werewolf’s comrades took his attention away from the tree and turned his salivating mouth to his friend, who was standing behind him while holding one of the arrows. He walked on four legs towards his friend and transformed midway. A pair of calloused hands took the arrow from the other—freezing after seeing how close he was to death.

Beta Seymor’s brows rose upon seeing the faces of the werewolves lost their colors. On cue, the werewolves bowed to the silhouette in gratitude for missing the target on purpose. Beta Seymor was about to ask them what was wrong when his eyes widened upon seeing Alpha Dylan jumping onto the branch—gone was the mysterious silhouette of the archer.

As a faithful beta, Seymor Tesan followed suit immediately. He did not want to miss any fun at all!

The wind atop the tree was stronger, yet the scene he was welcomed to was the sight of his superior sniffing the air.

“He is from the Crescent Pack but his scent… it carries my mate’s scent,” said Alpha Dylan in a deep grumble with clenched canines. The veins protruded on his forehead and neck – a sign of agitation. And for an unmated alpha, such agitation was not welcomed especially in foreign territories.

‘W-What is happening? Why is our future Luna’s scent associated with someone from the Crescent Pack? No one knows why we are here!’ Beta Seymor screamed in his mind while imagining as if he was pulling the roots of his hair.

Unbeknownst to Beta Seymor, his so-called pitiful future Luna knew they were here. Without Diana's planned intervention and aid from the mysterious archer, the Crescent Pack would have been alerted by the ruckus.

Diana could not let that happen of course. If it did, how could she let her mate vent his anger to the Crescent Pack for her?

The bigger the mishap, the better.