A/N: Some words you might want to know going into this:
Alpha-leader of a wolf pack
Beta-the alpha's second in command
*No, the alpha's mate is not the beta, the alpha's mate is just the alpha female/alpha male. In other words, a pack is led by an alpha pair (the alpha and his/her mate). Most of the time, anyway.
Omega-refers to the lowest ranking member in a wolf pack OR a pack-less wolf
Chapter 1: On The Plains of Whiterun
Somewhere on the Whiterun plains, a Wolf howls.
It was not a normal wolf; of this I was certain. How, I did not know, only that I could sense it in my bones. A grim smile crosses my face. I do not enjoy killing others of my kind; loath it, in fact. But it is a necessity. A none-wolf might never suspect it, but the Silver Hand were becoming much more active, and I make it a habit of staying on their good side; it keeps suspicion away from me and my pack. And if that means bringing in a fellow werewolf's head a couple times a year, well, then, better them than us.
My eyes shift to a deep, piercing ember and my neck lengthens slightly, barely enough to be noticed, and I return the werewolf's howl.
I need not shift any more than this; I was born a wolf, and after twenty-five years, it is a part of me; I control it like a normal person controls a limb. Even when strong emotions are present, which might cause someone with far less experience to shift, only my eyes will change. Seeing how strong emotion is always present in me-not surprising, given my past-most people this assume my eyes are naturally ember in color. The wilds are the only places I'm ever truly at ease, and the only place my eyes shift back to the dark-brown I was born with.
The other Wolf hears the challenge, the threat, in my call, and other Wolves join in.
Great, a pack. I think bitterly. Might as well get going; I don't feel like fighting a whole hoard of them right now.
I completely shift now, needing the speed, and jump easily onto a fifteen-foot boulder jutting out of the hill behind me. I pause, just for a second, to survey the scene and enjoy the view; twin moons blood-red against a star dotted night sky, mountains rising majestically behind, the plains of Whiterun in front of me, all makes for a beautiful sight.
Then the pack rushes into view; if you could call them a pack. Only three members in total. I immediately locate there alpha-it's easy to discern who it is, from the way the others act around him. He's isn't big, only slightly larger than me, putting him at about-average size for a male, and though I would put him at about my age, I wager that I have twice the life experience he does.
I shift to get a better look at him, no longer intent on moving on; though I will not kill an entire pack, I plan on quickly sending them back to their den with their tails between their legs.
He spots me quickly; it's hard not to, with my red-ish fur outlines against a black sky. The pack alters their direction slightly, heading for the base of my boulder. I use the time to survey the rest of the pack.
One of the other wolves, the beta resembles the alpha in color and build, but I estimate he out-weighs his superior by thirty-five or forty pounds; this sparks my interest, because I would assume he would have become the alpha instead of his smaller companion. The third would is smaller, a female, with a slender and agile body.
It doesn't take me long to size them up; the second wolf has size and power, but lacks speed, while the female is light on her feet back doesn't have any real power. The alpha is probably the trickiest one; smaller enough to be quick, big enough to be powerful.
Never the less, it will still be an easy victory.
The pack skids to a stop at the base of my perch, low growls emanating from them. Any normal Wolf would be submissive about now; lowering their heads, maybe rolling on their back, trying to make themselves appear as small and unthreatening as possible. After all, no matter how small the pack is, they have home-field advantage.
But normal is boring, and I am neither.
I do the exact opposite of what it expected. I let my hackles raise, hold my head high, shove my ears forward, and growl back.
The smaller male snarls a warning, obviously angered that an intruder is standing the way only the alpha of the territory-being him-has a right to.
"Who are you?" he growls.
"That is none of your business, pup." I snarl back. The larger male growls threateningly in defense of his leader.
"Leave, stranger. This is our territory." the leader says coolly, ignoring my jab about his age. 'At least he's able to keep a level head.' I think.
"When you say 'our' I do hope you mean more than just you three." I sneer. "Because such a pathetically small pack won't be able to hold on to such good hunting grounds for long."
"You dare threaten us on our own land?" the female says sharply. I shift my gaze to her and give a devilish smile-which probably looks quite frightening coming from a Wolf's face.
"Why, I would hardly call it 'daring'. That would employ possible danger, or at least a little bit of a challenge." I say, purposely being arrogant and obnoxious. What I say is true; a pack this small won't be able to hold on to such good hunting grounds for long, and though my words may have been in jest, they have given me an idea I quite like: when this pack loses the Whiterun Plains, it will be because I won it from them.
So, the remainder of tonight is solely for the purpose of testing this pathetic excuse for a pack. How far I have to go to goad them into a fight, their skill in battle, their tactics and teamwork. Anything that will be useful in the war I plan to start.
"Watch your mouth, cur." the leader snarls. "Leave. I will not tell you again."
"Ah, how cute. You think you're intimidating." I purr. "Like when the kitten hisses at the dragon."
"Enough!" he snaps. "We've offered you mercy, and you've laughed in our face. Prepare to die."
I bust out laughing. 'Oh, this is going to be a most interesting night indeed!' I think.
Without warning, the female wolf launches herself through the air towards me. I wait a split-second, and the minute she's within arm's reach I lash out violently with my left arm, catching her in the cheek and knocking her to the ground to the right of my boulder. She doesn't get up, unconscious, though still audibly breathing.
In the couple of seconds during which this happens, the alpha has streaked around to the hill behind my boulder, putting him on the same level as me and is advancing slowly; meanwhile the larger male comes halfway up that same hill on my left side, putting him at eye level with the top of my boulder. I shift my stance fractionally so as to see both of them.
For a second, we stare at eachother, each waiting for the other to make a move. The alpha's ear twitches a fraction of an inch, a signal, and the larger one leaps into action. He jumps up to a rock sticking out of the hill, pushes off, and sails towards the air through me.
I know instantly what the alpha's plan is. He wants to force me to turn completely to face his beta, putting me broadside to him, so he can jump and hit me at the same time as his companion, knocking me off the rock and stunning me enough to let the large male pin me. It would be a good plan.
If it weren't so obvious.
I file that fact away for later: smart, but predictable.
I whirl to face the beta, exposing my side to the alpha, as he planned; and he takes the bait. The minute I see him jump towards me out of the corner of my eye, I leap straight up. Not a second to soon, either; the beta was so close to hitting me that when I jump his body knocks into my foot, throwing my balance off. But my course of action does work; the alpha, having jumped a fraction of a second before his beta, blindsides him now, and the two collapse in a tangled heap on the edge of the boulder.
Once he becomes confident in his own plans, this alpha can easily be led into a trap. Another fact I file away.
The alpha, landing on top, is the first to jump up; and the second his paws brush the stone, I launch myself into him, sending us both tumbling off the edge. The only difference is that I land and roll, quickly regaining my footing, while he falls flat on his back.
The 'thud' as he hits the ground seems to echo, and probably would make any normal person's stomach lurch. I know from experience that a thud like that means the wind's been knocked out of him, and I waste no time. I jump onto his chest, straddling him, and start punching him across the face.
The first blow succeeds in keeping him stunned; the second draws blood. The third blow knocks him out completely. I raise my arm for another blow, just to be sure.
"Stop!" the beta shouts from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see him staring down at from atop my boulder. All the fight has left his eyes.
"Stop. The battle is yours. There is no need to kill him." he says, leaping down more nimbly than I thought he could manage-another thing I make sure to remember.
I move off of his alpha and advance on him, stopping less than a foot away. He glares at me for a moment longer, before dropping his gaze respectfully and lowering himself to the ground in submission.
That he does not try to run gives me pause. Most Wolves certainly would, knowing that sticking around only means harsh punishment followed by being run off. Yet this one stays to face it with honor.
At first, I recover and am happy to meet his expectations. I step closer, towering over him and lowering my head to him neck to deliver a nip that, though painful, will not be fatal. He senses this, and I he tenses up; with my ears so close to his neck, I easily pick up on the sound of his pulse quickening. I pause and look him in the eye for a second.
I see only resigned fear there, and it instantly melts any malice away. I lick his cheek playfully, bounding away mischievously when I see the confusion flash across his face. I pause only for a second when I'm about twenty yards away, looking back and flashing him my most wolfish grin.
Then I turn and run off into the night, leaving one very confused Moonblood alone in the wilderness.
I travel almost till morning to get back to my pack's den, all the while pondering why I let the beta go.
At first I have no idea what compelled me to let him go, let alone lick him, a show of affection. It's something I haven't done since I was a pup; certainly not something I have ever done as a pack alpha.
As the sun rises, and I find myself in the mountains of Markarth, a good hundred miles from the Winchester countryside, I realize that it's because he showed he had some honor. Rarely have I seen this in my lifetime; it's always been survival of the fittest, which means cheap-shots, deception, and all around disorderly conduct. Honor, or anything close to it, are for the packs that always have enough food and don't have to work for it, for the packs that have influence in their Holds and don't have to hide.
That could be us, I think, a picture of the small Whiterun pack flashing across my mind. That could be my pack running the plains at night, with never a fear of discovery or an empty stomach. Bal and Fay would never go to bed hungry; Nekesh and Raen and Kjor and would never have to fight off guards and Forsworn. Ren and Uvela wouldn't have to drain their energy dry to transmute silver ore into gold; Elrohir and Esmond wouldn't have to poach.
We would be living, not just surviving.
That is all I've ever wanted for my pack, a life where they can be happy. That is my life's mission, the source of my strength, the underlying motive for every choice I make.
And their new life will begin with Whiterun.
I'm making my way down the side of a mountain, to a valley that opens out next to a river, when I hear claws scratching rock behind me. I whirl around, hackles raised and ears back, every nerve on end, eyes sweeping over the rocky terrain. The wind, I note, is not on my side, blowing my scent to whoever lurks nearby while washing their scent away.
"Show yourself." I growl. My eyes catch a flicker of movement up the mountain and slightly to the left.
"Ho, Shim." greets a Wolf, stepping out from behind a boulder. He's a handsome one, there's no denying, and that along with a sturdy, square, battle-scarred muzzle means that this particular werewolf looks every bit the role of alpha.
I recognize him instantly as Kjor, not a alpha, but my beta.
"Ho, Kjor." I respond. "Something wrong?" I ask, sensing something wrong.
"Aye. A big group of Imperial soldiers passed through the area not long ago, heading for the Cyrodiil border." he says. My heart drops to my stomach.
"Esmond." I breathe. Esmond, a twenty-seven-year-old charming Breton with looks to match, is one of the wolves in my pack, and a close friend (as are all the Wolves in my pack, seeing as none of us have any family outside of the pack). He recently took a trip to the Skyrim-Cyrodiil border for personal reasons; what reason that was, he didn't bother to say, only the general area where he was headed.
"My thoughts exactly." Kjor says grimly. "I was going to get Ren or Elrohir to warn him, but the Forsworn saw Fay and Raen and had them pinned down in a clump of trees."
As if I didn't already have enough to worry about.
"Don't worry, Shim." Kjor adds quickly, as though reading my thoughts. After years of leading the pack together, we pretty much can. "The rest of the gang is driving the damn bandits off. So, do you want to go get Esmond and have me deal with the Forsworn, or the other way around?"
I ponder the question. Though the thought of the Forsworn engaged in battle with my family sets my blood boiling and my teeth on edge, the thought of Esmond, alone, with so many soldiers nearby, sends anxiety coursing through me.
"Who do these Forsworn belong to, Lund or Kraldar?" I ask after a minute, referring to the two Forsworn leaders who give us the most trouble. Lund, though crafty, inherited all the bad fighters from the previous leader, and though they have been improving under his rule, they are yet to be much more than entertainment. Kraldar is just the opposite; he makes sure his individual soldiers are capable fighters, but isn't all that cunning or imaginative.
"Lund's." he says, and I nod.
"Good. Lund's not quite so dangerous yet." I say. "You help the gang run them off; use it as a test. See if we're still in fighting shape."
Kjor recognizes the glint in my eye, knows that I have something bigger planned than just a casual survey of the pack's skills.
"Mind letting me in on whatever it is your planning?" he inquires.
Like I said, we pretty much read each other's minds.
I grin mischievously.
"I tell you when I get back."
He gives me an equally devilish grin. (I was right, it does look a little creepy on a wolf's face).
"Be seeing you, then." he says, bounding past me towards the valley floor. I watch him for a moment, before turning and heading southeast.
That was the last time we spoke as just alpha and beta. The next time we had a conversation, things had changes; I had changed.
What could change my life so drastically, you ask? Why, an Imperial ambush that captures Ulfric Stormcloak, of course.
A/N: So this chapter was mainly character background, because I always hate that they start you off in Skyrim with no back-story. (So yes, the ambush I'm referring to here is the one that Rolof describes not five minutes into the game).
*Since I know it wasn't mentioned in this chapter, just so you know, the main character's full name is Ri'Shima Khamiri, (A.K.A Shima Firemoon), a female Khajiit.
*Yes, I know you didn't need to know the word omega for this chapter, so no need to point it out in a comment. I did it on purpose because you will almost definitly need to know the term later.
Hope it wasn't to boring. Plan on having the next chapter up soon.
Reviews always make me write faster. ;)