Slight spoilers for Black Fire Upon Us. All author's comments at the end of the fic. Enjoy.
The air was heavy with ash. All around them the heat from the fire nipped at them, singeing them, threatening to burn them alive. They were trapped, unable to escape. Yet they were unwilling to go down without a fight. They knew that the true alpha never would.
The alpha sniffed around, looking for any potential chance of survival. The walls of flame were too high and too hot. There was simply no exit from the courtyard they had called their home. Turning around to face his pack, the alpha saw the betas with the three little pups that his mate had had just days before. The lost and scared look on their tiny faces filled the alpha with a new sense of purpose. His pups would live, that he would make sure of. His own mate, the mother of those pups, had been killed mere minutes ago by a crazed man with a shotgun. He had made quick work of the lunatic, but was left with no time to grieve. He had to ensure the safety of the rest of the pack -- she would understand that.
Just then, a tree from the courtyard fell over, sweeping away the fire beneath it. He saw this as his chance for there was no time to think. Picking up one of his pups by the scruff of its neck, he quickly bounded over the tree. Not bothering to check on the rest of his pack, he continued on, dodging and searching his way through blood-covered corridors and flame-ridden rooms. The others followed close behind him, either carrying pups or leftovers from dinner (except the omega who carried nothing), as they navigated their way outside. Finally, with no further injury, they had made it out.
Sitting on a hillside quite a distance away from their burning home, the pack gathered and counted their losses. The alpha female had been killed along with another no-named, no-rank wolf. The rest of the small pack, including the pups, had been unharmed. Singed and scared, but relatively unharmed. The wolf-pack would live to hunt another day.
A new scent hit his nose. A scent that was vaguely familiar and coming from close-by. Barking an order at the betas to watch the pups, he left to investigate the source of this scent. It was the scent of blood. It was the scent of someone he knew.
Reaching the top of the hill where he left the pack, he saw another pack standing a short distance away. The two-leggers, as he called them. The people who fed them, who ensured their easy-going lifestyle, and who gave them the respect they deserved. They were standing before one of their own, their alpha it seemed. The yardwolf always thought the one who wore the glass ornament over his eyes was the alpha, and, judging by how the others reacted, he was right, for he knew what this man truly represented.
The one who was covered in blood was the alpha of everything. The wild, feral yardwolf always bowed to him as an omega, acknowledging the other's dominance, yet receiving nothing but respect (and occasionally a good ear rub) in return. In a gesture of sorrow and support for his brethren, he howled into the red glow of the night for the potential loss of their alpha, the true alpha.
Wrote this after finally seeing the season finale and wondering what happened to the yardwolves? I love wolves so I tried to incorporate as much info as I could into this. Normally I would publish this under my In A Position Of Power drabbles, but I felt this was different and needed to stay seperate. My apologies for being so short or grammatically incorrect, I wrote this in a hurry. Also, my apologies for not having more detail on how they got out of the Mordhaus fire, but I really wanted to get to the ending.
As always, comments and criticism are appreciated.
- Silvarius