The cool winter's breeze rolled in nicely over the porch where I sat. It blew out into the yard, swimming along the many blades of grass, creating the illusion of smoke. It sifted and intertwined the uncut yard and then rushed up into the trees. The sounds of shaking branches and falling leaves was an impeccable symphony of beauty. Mixed with the sounds of my wicker chair creaking as I leant in back on its hind legs, it created a perfect atmosphere. The kind that I'd grown very fond of over the years.

I scraped up the last bite of my shrimp fried rice onto my fork, and savored its final taste. The salty shrimp, and well prepared rice mixed with egg and oriental spices left a remarkable after taste in my mouth. One of the many reasons I loved Chinese food. Mix the taste of it all, along with the tryptophan chemical made by cooking turkey, and you've got a recipe for domestication.

I made sure to close off my mind to my prying mate that relaxed on the living room couch. She wasn't use to having me shut her out, and I could feel her frustration at me, even through the thick walls and furniture that blocked her direct path to me.

I wasn't sure how long she'd be mad at me for being so clueless on how to deal with Alan, but I did know that I'd be suffering for it. Even being an Alpha has its limits. And when my mate was unhappy, I was unhappy. It was pretty much the same as being married.

A sharp ping cut my thoughts off completely.

A frustrated grunt and the sound of cloth ripping against thin metal rang in my ears as I sat the chair back on all fours and stood.

The noise was short, but I could already tell where it was coming from. And I had a pretty good idea who was making the racket. Dammit Alan.

I stayed in the night's shadows that clung to the side of the house as I moved quietly to investigate. And to my dismay, I came across Alan. He stood on the second story roof, gauging the distance between where he stood, and the tree that he planned to jump to. In that moment, he reminded me of, well me.

It took him all of three seconds to judge the distance, plan his trajectory, and then make a run for it. His bare feet were almost inaudible as he sprinted against the black shingles and launched himself for the thickest, closest branch.

His fingers just barely caught them as his own weight caught him off guard. I could tell he wasn't a very strong child.

As his left arm gave out, I felt the need to rush under him so he wouldn't fall. But when his right held strong, I stapled myself where I stood.

He was strong, just not as strong as a boy his age should be.

"Craaaaap." He muttered as he swung his left arm forward, monkeying across the distance until he was close enough to the ground to fall without injury. Bend your knees when you land, and come down with the recoil. He told himself.

I found myself wondering where he'd learned that bit of knowledge. I no longer had to go by those rules unless the drop was over thirty feet. My bones were practically made of iron, and not easily broken.

He took a deep breath, released his hands and fell right on his butt. I stifled a laugh and watched him complain. There was some sort of de ja-vu hovering around me as I watched. At least he didn't get his leg stuck in the tree like I did. I jested. That was a horrible memory, but after hearing my dad tell the story, there was nothing left to do but laugh at myself.

He dusted off his khaki shorts; their legs were cut just under his knees, which meant that they were once a good pair of pants. I really have to get that kid some new clothes. I thought, making a mental note of it as I did so.

After a few complaints about the landing and some mental curses, he pocketed his hands to stave off the bracing wind and started walking out into the forest. I wasn't really worried about him leaving, as much as I was about him being cold. And so with my head begging me not to, I followed up to him. Making slow progress to keep my footsteps from being heard.

As his feet left the grass covered yard and into the barren, dirt floor of the forest, something happened. As his feet rose from the dirt, small shudders resounded underneath the forsaken land. And one by one, small, green blades of grass sprouted. With every step, was a new patch of plant life thriving in his presence. And soon, I found myself not moving forward at all. My breathing was halted.

Yet, further and further he plunged into the darkness, touching the bark of withering trees, and with every imprint, grew vines with beautiful blue flowers sprouting from small pods that lined the vines. Like hundreds of pairs of eyes, they shined deeply in the moonlight. Their white pupils were surrounded in perfect circles by deep, violet blue pedals.

"That's impossible." I said, absent-mindedly.

Alan quickly turned, and the many blades of grass that once occupied the space around him were now cowering back under the dirt, hiding as if they were self-aware. Oh, god! Did he see? He thought, panicking inside.

"Yeah, I saw." I said, awestruck by the new life that surrounded the forests entrance. The vines grew out pretty far, enough so to reach out and latch onto other trees that were in a close enough proximity. They spider webbed between the cracked tree bark and spread their roots deep into their hosts. The blades of grass that arose from where he once stood, had finally stopped growing, and as if by choice, comingled in with the original lawn. Both in size and color.

Alan, however, wasn't taking this very lightly. His face was wrought with fear, his hands shook uncontrollably, and I couldn't make out a single thought in his head.

"Alan?" I asked.

His stomach turned slightly as I watched him. He was definitely debating whether or not to run. His legs trembled, and his eyes were watching me.

I took a relaxed pose. "Don't run." I warned, watching his hands twitch as he became surprised at my tone. "Just calm down."

I took a small step over to him. The ground under my feet shook a little, and I debated whether or not it was he who was causing it.

I listened in on what he was thinking, and after a few more steps, it became clear that he thought he was in danger because of what he could do. He believed that he would be cast out by our kind, thrown aside, or worse… But it was all a lie.

"I'm not like Marcus." I told him. Just the name made him shudder, and I started to wonder whether or not he was right. Every man in our family is hated deeply. His words were like a splash of cold water on my face. Disorienting and abrupt. Was it because we were alpha's? A family bred to lead?

"That doesn't mean you're not like the rest of them!" He yelled, taking a few steps back. "Quick to judge."

"If anything, you're more like them than I am!" I yelled back, not too sure on who them was. But I was sure that it was meant to be an insult.

He seemed taken back by what I said. The ground trembled slightly less as I backed off.

"Alan, just tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."

"But I'm not like you." He said simply. A longing tone rattled his voice. It was almost as if he were truly alone.

"Wait, wait. I'm getting ahead of myself." I said, rubbing my eyes. "Are you saying you're mixed with something else?"

"Well, how many other wolves do you know that can do what I do?" He said, defensively. It sounded to me like he had known discrimination, or was taught to fear it. But regardless to how he feared his current situation, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Have you even met the girls yet?"