A/N:This is the second in the series 'Loup Garoux' I have this habit with writing short stories about very minor characters. Besides Gregory, I think Ulf is quite unexplained, and he interested me when I read the book the second time through – how would I feel if my mother went off to sleep with one of my friends, ignored me all the time, then was killed for being a traitor? I hope you enjoy my interpretation of him!

Ulf

            There was a sickening crack, and the red-headed convict fell to the ground; her body bucked, kicked, then lay still. Once dangerous, now useless – ruined meat.

            He clenched his fists, opening and closing them, his claws growing and drawing blood from his palms. Unbidden, unwanted tears made his eyes itch and traced lines through the dirt on his face as the shock began to settle in. She was dead. Astrid, finally gone. His mother. His tears should resemble the mourning of her loss.

            But she hadn't been mother to him in a long time.

            Ulf's blurred gaze was drawn to the prone form of Rafe in his skin. The claws dug in again; something wet and warm trickled and collected in the hollows of his hands. Rafe had only been one of many that had stolen her from him. Rafe, Gabriel, even Esmé for fighting with her, and any good-looking piece of tail that came along. They were all thieves, tearing away from his the one person that should have cared for him most.

            It was the realization that Astrid hadn't needed anyone in order to make excuses to get away from him, that made him sob into his bleeding fists as the pack began to howl around him.

            Blood dripping from his lashes, mixed with the salty tears that he could no longer hold back, he peered through his fingers at Gabriel, viciously searching the leader's face for the pleasure he must have felt at the kill. It was him – Gabriel – his fault! Everything was his fault; Rafe going off with Astrid, Finn pushing him around, thinking he was hot shit, the death, everything…

            There was pain in Gabriel's eyes as he cried out the Law, a burden revealed there. Ulf felt something hot well up inside him, revealing itself in tears, more weakness. The twins, in their fur, nudged closer to him. He wanted them to go away, even in this open space he felt so claustrophobic; but he needed them also, needed someone, anyone, because he had never felt more alone in his life.

            There was another shot, more cries, and he barely had time to register what was happening when he saw Vivian fall, heard Esmé scream, moved for his age-mate's precious meat-boy to run witlessly from the scene of the crime. Ulf shook helplessly as the stress became too much.

            Something pulled him towards the two fallen forms he'd thought he should trust. Passing Rafe's nude, motionless figure, he knelt down at the body of Astrid. His hand reached to stroke her red hair away, revealing the knot of scars where her eye had once been. Her flesh was cold, and the iciness of death chilled him until only the heat in his stomach remained, that pushed to his throat and threatened to make him vomit. The cold consumed him.

            The pack began to disperse much later, but he wasn't aware of time passing. He only knew when a warm, firm hand on his shoulder brought him back. He looked up.

            "Come on, kid," was all Gabriel said. The depth of the compassion there surprised him. He took the offered hand with a fleeting smile, and followed without looking back.