Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on starting arc two! We should be back on schedule now, though, and hopefully people enjoy where this story goes!
Arc Two, Part One: Making an Impression
Marius studies himself in the mirror, twisting and turning so that he can get a better view of his clothing. It would be easier if the mirror showed more than a fifth of his body at a time, but given his position he supposes he should be feeling lucky to even have a mirror.
"—and then, once the humans have come to accept each other as equals, they will have less reason to consider us as monsters." Grantaire's voice continues in a steady, half-drunken slur, rising and falling in a cadence that Marius long ago gave up on following. "It's a matter of changing the way they look at the world. They currently consider that all men are born to their station—the king to his, the peasant to his, not much chance of changing it, actually heresy to change it. So when they see us as beasts, they don't question it—we're demons, we're monsters, and what do you do with monsters? You kill them. But if they were to change that fundamental view, if they were to… to decide that each man's choices are what controls his destiny, his life, then the fact that we are no more dangerous than any other man will actually have some weight. Except for the fact that it's a lie. We're far more dangerous than any human out there—even me, and I'm kind of a pitiful excuse for a wolf. Ah, I'm not explaining it properly."
Adjusting his cravat so that it hangs slightly less crookedly, Marius lets out a deep breath and turns the mirror so that it scans down his body. His waistcoat is just slightly crooked, as well, and he adjusts the dark blue fabric, grateful that Courfeyrac's taste in clothing seems to run parallel to the humans'.
"I haven't done a very good job, have I, Marius?" Grantaire's voice is a soft, lonely whimper.
Turning to look at the submissive wolf, Marius blinks and tries to remember what Grantaire's been rambling about for the last ten minutes. "What haven't you done a very good job at?"
"Everything." Grantaire's lounging on Marius' bed, a bottle of something that Marius' nose tells him is alcoholic clutched in his right hand, his eyes fixed on his feet. "I'm not explaining this well to you. I haven't been able to really help the others with their work. And I can't seem to keep myself from drinking."
The submissive wolf huffs out a breath that sounds close to a whine, and Marius stares at him in perplexed confusion. Grantaire had seemed boisterous when he arrived, as per usual, gesticulating wildly with the bottle. Marius hadn't paid him much attention, far too focused on getting prepared for his meeting with Cosette's father. Usually if Marius simply let Grantaire sit somewhere and ramble the submissive wolf talked, drank, and eventually left, a strange and confusing footnote that tends to appear at random in Marius' life. Marius isn't used to seeing the large, shaggy wolf look so… despondent. "Ah… I think you were doing a fine job explaining your… topic."
Grantaire raises his eyes to meet Marius' evenly, a sardonic smile on his face. "Do you even know what I was talking about?"
It's all Marius can do not to growl as he raises his head and stiffens his shoulders, his wolf responding to Grantaire's challenge. His wolf's always on edge whenever Enjolras' wolves come around to see him, the reek of such a strong pack driving home to him exactly how insignificant and vulnerable and alone he is, and Grantaire's quirk of never submitting properly doesn't make it any easier. "You were talking about Enjolras' politics, weren't you? About his plan to liberate the wolves by slowly changing the minds of the humans with regards to what is and isn't monstrous, what is and isn't acceptable?"
"I was." Grantaire sighs, lowering his eyes, intentionally submitting, and Marius tries very hard not to read the move as flippant. He knows that Grantaire genuinely tries not to insult and anger him. Usually. "I can never do it justice, though, I know. I try to borrow his words. I try to understand things the way he does—to see the future as bright and clear as he does. But the words get tangled and the ideas ring false and I can't even convince you that I'm right."
"I'm not a test, Grantiare." Marius frowns at the other wolf. "I've told you I'm not interested in your pack or their politics, and I mean it. Failing to convince me isn't any mark of failure."
"You can't mean that." Leaning forward, toward Marius, Grantaire smiles at him. "We both know you can't mean that. No wolf wants to be a stray."
"I am quite content with how my life is right now." Marius swallows, hard, his eyes rising to stare at the top of Grantaire's head. He won't look away from this wolf, show submission to another in his domain, but he can't meet Grantaire's eyes, either.
The words he spoke aren't quite a lie. There are several things he's quite content with in his life at the moment—Cosette, for starters. His studies, for another, and the small income he's been able to acquire via tutoring. His grandfather had always ensured that the pack's pups were well-educated, and it's serving Marius well now.
"I don't know why you're fighting it so strongly. I don't understand." Grantaire shakes his head before taking another drink from his bottle. "Enjolras' pack is amazing."
"So amazing that you can't even properly articulate their strategy or purpose?" Marius turns back to the mirror, adjusting his cravat once more. What had Cosette said about properly greeting her father? He's to bow, he thinks, and thank the man for inviting him into his house. And then… and then…
Grantaire's stare is heavy on Marius' back, his despair an almost palpable presence, a tangy, bitter scent in the air, his silence far worse than any noise that he's ever made.
Sighing, Marius turns and moves to the bed, sitting primly next to the more submissive wolf. He stands again almost immediately—Grantaire has a few inches on him, and he doesn't like having to look up at the man. The Lady had certainly been feeling in an odd humor when he made this wolf. "Come, Grantaire, my lack of an interest in a pack isn't the end of the world."
"I saved your life." Grantaire whispers the words to his bottle, his shoulders hunched.
"You did." Marius nods, competing instincts making it hard for him to decide what to do. On the one hand Grantaire is a large wolf from a strong pack; on the other… on the other he did save Marius' life, and he's a wolf who's more submissive than Marius and clearly distressed. Placing his hand gently on Grantaire's shoulder, Marius smiles at the other male. "I am very grateful for it."
"It's the best thing I've ever done, I think." Grantaire takes another drink, draining the bottle. "It was me, just me, and I stopped something that I knew was wrong. I saved you. Me. I thought, after that… I thought it would be easy. But it's not easy."
"Things are rarely as simple as one would like." Sympathy grows in Marius, and his hand tightens on Grantaire's shoulder. He had assumed it would be a simple matter of meeting Cosette's father and having the man acknowledge their courtship. He had been very, very wrong about that. It took three weeks and Cosette acting strangely for the old human to finally acquiesce to Marius joining them for an afternoon. "I am happy, though, Grantaire. Surely that's all you can ask of me."
"You are happy." Grantaire peers up at him, the man's eyes half-closed in contemplation. "Which makes no sense to me, but I suppose I make no sense to anyone else. I still think you'll want a pack, though. Eventually, you'll find the one that fits you."
"And you think it should be Enjolras' pack." Marius shakes his head. "I am not going to involve myself in any pack, Grantaire, but especially not yours. His. That one."
"Which means I've failed in explaining things to you properly." A note of good cheer has returned to Grantaire's voice, finally. "But that's all right. I'll keep trying. I'll get the words right eventually. Or, you know, you could come listen to him talk."
"No. I am not getting involved in sedition and conspiracy." Marius gives Grantaire's shoulder a shove before moving back to the mirror. "You and Courfeyrac coming here is fine—it's your territory, after all—but I am not going to involve myself in your human liaisons and affairs, not when they run counter to my own beliefs."
Grantaire tilts his head to one side, almost falling flat onto the bed before he catches himself. "I think, if I understand yours right, it's more that your beliefs and Enjolras' are tangential rather than counter. You both agree the king is a bad idea, and that human-wolf interactions need to be changed. It's just a matter of how."
"The how is rather important, Grantaire." Marius studies his ensemble once more before deciding there's nothing else he can do to make himself look more presentable—or human. "I've enough trouble with Pack politics without buying more trouble from the humans, at least not until there's a potential benefit to me."
Not until or unless it will help him keep Cosette, and he smiles at the mere thought of her.
Grantaire tilts his head to the opposite side, drawing a deep breath through his nose and then leaning toward Marius and sniffing again. "Are you really sure you don't know why you smell funny?"
"Yes, I'm certain." Marius can't keep the exasperation from his tone as he turns back to the submissive.
"Because that weird smell you sometimes have got stronger… and now it's fading again." Grantaire frowns. "Maybe Joly's right. Maybe there is something wrong with you. Maybe that's why you think you don't want a pack."
"There is nothing wrong with me!" Marius covers his eyes with his hands for a moment. He enjoys it when Courfeyrac comes to visit him, though he almost always goes to see Cosette as soon as he can afterward, the ache where a pack should touch his heart and mind almost unbearable. Grantaire, on the other hand…
"Why're you being so fussy about your looks?" Grantaire gestures up and down Marius' body, using the hand that still holds the empty bottle.
"I… uh…" Marius is suddenly very, very glad it isn't Courfeyrac who decided to come visit him. He could never think of an excuse quickly enough to deflect Courfeyrac from this, not when Courfeyrac seems to take pleasure in gleaning every little bit of personal information he can get from Marius—all while making Marius grin and laugh in the process. It's really quite unfair. A drunken Grantaire he should be able to out-think, though.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Perhaps he will have to insist on Enjolras' wolves leaving him alone, despite the fact that he rather looks forward to Courfeyrac's unexpected visits. "I'm going to meet a human. For tutoring. For money, so that I can pay rent on my own and buy a bit to eat."
"Oh?" Grantaire's head slowly tips the other way, one eyebrow rising. "Think you might be getting your instincts crossed, then. You can't form a pack with the humans."
Marius reaches for his coat, keeping his voice cool. "You might want to tell your alpha that."
"He wants us to be on good terms with the humans. He cares about some of them—the ones he's working with, the one who're friends with the pack. But they can't be pack. They don't have magic." Grantaire shrugs and stands, as well. "Seems like your magic's desperate enough to resonate with something else that it'll try, though. It's weird. I don't think mine ever did that."
"I think you're not understanding what your nose is telling you." Marius gestures toward the door. "And I also think that I need to leave, so if you wouldn't mind…"
Grantaire doesn't protest, shambling toward the door, a smile on his face again. "I'll get it right one of these times. I'll find the right words to make you understand. Promise."
"I believe you will keep trying." Marius manages not to sigh as he follows the larger male out the door, locking his apartment behind him. "Trying seems to be something you are very good at."
Grantaire doesn't take any offense. If anything, his smile seems to widen. "Enjolras thinks so, too."
Marius makes a non-commital noise in the back of his throat. All of Enjolras' wolves are fiercely loyal, but Grantaire seems positively obsessed, and Marius learned quickly to simply let the strange submissive move on to another topic on his own. Getting into a debate with Grantaire about Enjolras, or Lady forbid making the mistake of agreeing with him, would just ensure Grantaire continued to expound upon the topic until his opponent gave up in defeat or bit him.
At least Marius hopes other people have desired to bite the male to shut him up.
He would feel rather terrible if he's the only one who sometimes wants to hurt someone so submissive and relatively harmless.
He almost starts walking toward Cosette's house before realizing that his cover story will require him to head toward the university. He also needs to shed Grantaire's company before he can safely attempt to cross over into Geroux's territory.
It's going to add extra time to his walk that he hadn't planned for. It might make him late, and he's fairly certain Cosette had told him it would be very rude to be late.
"Don't look so down." Grantaire's hand nudges gently against Marius' lower arm, the submissive's head low and a smile on his face. "I will find you a pack, and I'll make you understand, and then you can take Enjolras' plans to other packs and then it'll be easier for him. Everyone will win! Everyone will be happy." Grantaire tries to take a drink from the empty bottle and then stares down at it, vague frustration showing on his face as he shakes the bottle and then tosses it into the gutter. The bottle shatters, shards bouncing along the paving stones, and both Marius and Grantaire flinch as the sound of splintering glass cuts at their sensitive ears. Grantaire's voice falls to a faint whisper. "It would be nice if everyone could be happy, you know. I don't think it will ever happen, not like Enjolras seems to see, but it would be nice."
Marius doesn't know what to say, so for a moment he says nothing. Has something happened to Grantaire, to leave him so easily upset and out of sorts today? Or was it simply the alcohol, the stench of it almost overpowering the scent of the pack-bonds on the submissive wolf?
Eventually Marius realizes that he will have to speak, though, because Grantaire is following him, a silent, hulking shadow, and he needs to get the man to leave. "I would agree that people being happy is generally a good thing. I also think that you may be happier if you were to go back to your pack."
Grantaire sighs, a sound that seems to be ripped from the depths of his soul. "Suppose so. Can't stay away forever. He's going to be upset, though. Didn't just fail, got drunk, too, and he doesn't like it when we're drunk. Doesn't ever say anything, but you can feel it when he doesn't like something. Hurts. Don't like disappointing him."
Marius blinks, surprised by the softly spoken string of information. It's not hard to determine who the he that Grantaire refers to is, but it is surprising to Marius to hear that there's trouble within Enjolras' pack. Trouble enough to make this submissive want to stay away, and perhaps Gillenormand had been more correct in his thinking on Enjolras' pack than Marius had thought. "Were you… looking for somewhere to stay? Is that why you came to see me, to find somewhere to stay away from your pack?"
"No." Grantaire stares at him as though he's mad. "They're my pack. I don't want to stay away."
An exasperated sigh slips from Marius, and his spine itches as a tail that isn't there attempts to twitch back and forth to illustrate his irritation. "But you said—"
"I say a lot of things. I speak a lot, though I don't always say things that are worth listening to." A bright smile slides onto Grantaire's face, but Marius thinks he can see the frustrated sorrow lurking underneath it, now. "Things're just fine with the pack. It's a good pack. You should come listen to them talk about their ideas sometime. But for now, you are going to go teach a human how to human-things and I am going home, to our den."
The last word is said in a soft exhalation of wonder, and Marius can see the frustration truly disappear for a moment. No matter what else may or may not be true, the submissive wolf does adore the concepts of pack and pack-bonds and seems genuinely awed whenever he discusses them in regard to himself. "Be safe, Grantaire. I'm sure I'll see you again."
Grantaire nods, waving as he trots off toward their den. The shaggy wolf stumbles a few times, and Marius realizes exactly how much more drunk than usual the submissive male is.
Shaking his head, Marius continues toward the university for a few minutes before assuring himself neither Grantaire nor any other of Enjolras' wolves are present and hurrying toward Cosette's house.
He really, really hopes that he isn't late.
XXX
Grantaire keeps his shoulders hunched as he creeps into the pack's den, and not simply because a chill wind has come up again outside. Spring should be coming soon, but not quite yet, and winter's teeth are still quite capable of frightening Grantaire despite a month of being pack, of being assured of food and shelter.
It's early afternoon on a Thursday, and most of the pack is absent, working or at class—or, in Bahorel's case, most likely skipping class. A quick check of his pack-bonds shows Grantaire that only Courfeyrac is present in their den, actually, and Grantaire stands just inside the door, shivering, debating what to do.
He could head to the Musain. The humans in the café know that he's one of Enjolras' chosen, and they treat him kindly, like they do the rest of the pack, an unspoken backing of Enjolras' politics. He could get lunch there—and another drink.
He could curl up here, in his bed or in front of the fire, waiting for the others to get home—and perhaps have a drink.
Or he could go out to one of taverns and bars that he's become quite familiar with, both those near the university and in Enjolras' territory, and continue drinking in the company of humans.
"Grantaire?" Courfeyrac's voice is a sleepy murmur, and he emerges from his room with his clothes only half-on. "Ah, it is you. You're back. When you were gone this morning, Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta were worried, but Enjolras said that you were fine, though the way that he said it left a bit of uncertainty in my mind…" Buttoning his shirt, Courfeyrac yawns, hesitates, and then sniffs the air once more before sighing. "Ah. That would explain both where you've been and why Enjolras was less than ecstatic about it."
Grantaire shrugs, his head dropping from shame even though his instincts still don't work properly with anyone but Enjolras. "I've got a right to drink."
"No one's arguing that point." Courfeyrac comes toward him, envelops him in a fierce, protective embrace. The gamma's hand cups the back of Grantaire's head and keeps him in a submissive position, but Grantaire doesn't mind. He should be submissive.
Especially to this pack, he should be submissive.
"You've a right to drink. It can be a fun experience—a bonding experience, even, especially when we drink a bit with the humans. But you… tend not to stop at a bit." Courfeyrac pats Grantaire's shoulder, the female wolf's eyes drawn together in puzzlement or dismay. "And Enjolras has a right to be unsettled at the way that too much alcohol can affect the pack-bonds—he's the one who maintains them, and it must be very… disconcerting trying to touch a mind that's rather muddled."
"My mind's always muddled, whether I've been drinking or not." Grantaire moves forward so that he can rest his head against Courfeyrac's shoulder. "And we both know it's not just the drinking that he's upset about. I didn't manage to get your pamphlet to the printer's yesterday."
"I know. We all know. We all saw you apologizing last night." Courfeyrac's fingers massage at the base of Grantaire's skull, a gentle, slow, methodical pressure that feels glorious. "It was, perhaps, too soon to ask something that… difficult of you."
"It was taking a paper to a printshop." Grantaire lifts his head, a tangle of frustration and anger making his words thick. "I should have been able to do it."
"No, it was taking a pamphlet that could get you arrested for treason to a print-shop without being seen by any potential spies because the rest of us have made a bit more noise than we intended lately and having anyone locked up with the full moon tomorrow would be a bad idea." Courfeyrac's fingers climb up bit by bit until they scratch gently behind Grantaire's ear in just the right way to make him sigh in contentment and lean into Courfeyrac's hand. "It wasn't a simple task. We debated strongly even bringing it up to you as a potential opportunity."
"Because you thought I'd fail." Grantaire whispers the words, his eyes closed, not wanting to see Courfeyrac's expression. "And I proved you right."
Courfeyrac hesitates for a moment too long. "You weren't caught, at least. The police won't have any reason to take any extra interest in you still."
"Because I didn't do it!" The words are a low whine, pathetic, and Grantaire tries to hunch down even more, to make himself even more submissive. "I was worried I was being followed, and I stepped into the tavern for what was supposed to be just a moment, and then the next thing I knew it was dark out and I had won the round of dominoes but the print-shop was closed and I'm sorry. I am trying, I really am trying."
For once Courfeyrac seems at a loss for words, the man's hazel eyes wide and bright, his curly hair still sleep-tousled, and Grantaire needs to know what he's thinking. He needs to know exactly how badly he's broken things in his relationship with the pack, because if even Courfeyrac, cheerful, loving, accepting Courfeyrac is angry with him…
Except he can't seem to make his pack-bonds work properly. He can sense where the others are—or rather where they're not, the fact that only Courfeyrac is close to him—but he can't get anything beyond that. No sense of what Courfeyrac is feeling, no sense of what any of the others are feeling, and what does that mean?
Panic rises in him, sharp and hot. Has Enjolras done something? Has Grantaire been stripped of his place in the pack?
Are they going to throw him out, one more useless old stray?
He will kill himself. He will kill himself before he will be alone like that again.
Here.
Enjolras' mental embrace is faint, not the crisp, sharp transfer of ideas and images and emotions that Grantaire is used to from his alpha, but he latches onto it anyway. Anything from Enjolras means that there is still hope.
"Ah, Grantaire." Courfeyrac's arms are wrapped tight around him, and the female's teeth nip at his neck in a gesture that is both chastisement and reassurance, because it means he's still pack. "I told you, didn't I? Being drunk makes it harder for him to reach us, and for us to reach each other. The more drunk you are, the harder it becomes. Did you really not notice that over the last month?"
"Um…" Grantaire swallows, blinking away tears. "If I did, I don't remember. Probably because I was drunk."
"Like now." Courfeyrac sighs, his hands shifting to grip Grantaire's arms and hold him out at arm's length. "Enjolras would like me to tell you that of course you are still pack, that he wouldn't do anything to any of our pack-bonds without discussing it with us first, and that you and he will have to talk later. Do you understand?"
Grantaire nods, not trusting himself to speak, shame and terrible relief all that he can muster to shove toward the vague sense of Enjolras that he can still just barely feel. There isn't much by way of acknowledgment, and Enjolras' presence fades away as quickly as it had appeared.
"Come on." Courfeyrac tugs on Grantaire's arm. "Come sleep and sober up. I'll stay with you until Bossuet gets home. No more drinking today, my old stray."
"I'm not a stray." Grantaire can feel his face burning with shame, and another pulse of fear cuts through his guts. Perhaps it would be easier if he could smell more than just the sharp tang of alcohol—could smell the pack-bonds on himself, and he lifts his wrist to his nose, draws a deep breath, but even then the scent of the pack is diluted by the scent of spirits. "I'm pack."
"You are. You are and will remain pack, Grantaire." Courfeyrac's arm slides around Grantaire's shoulder, and Courfeyrac begins slowly guiding him to the stairs. "But you still think like a stray. You still fear like a stray. You still react like a stray, and we're going to have to find a way to fix that."
"You might find me hard to fix." Grantaire leans into Courfeyrac's touch, relishing the feel of the female's arm around his shoulder, relishing the reminder that he isn't alone, that he is pack now. He shouldn't need it. He shouldn't be so useless still. He's pack. He has all he ever dreamed of having, so why is he still so… so… "Broken. I'm apparently rather broken, even aside from my… deficiency."
"It takes time to learn fear and doubt." Courfeyrac doesn't loosen his hold as he opens Grantaire's bedroom door. "It will take time to unlearn, as well, but you will. You have the strength to overcome anything. We see it in you, Grantaire. It's part of why we accepted you. And you don't have to do it alone—all you need to do is ask and we will help you in any way we can."
They would try to help him, when he can't do the simplest thing that they ask of him.
He should probably pull himself away from Courfeyrac. He doesn't deserve the female's affection or support. He's a grown wolf, and if he's to be a member of the pack then he needs to be able to take care of himself—to be able to help them with their cause, to be an asset rather than a liability to them.
"Where did you go this morning?" Courfeyrac's words are light, but there's a tenseness to his body as he urges Grantaire down onto the bed. "Did you talk with anyone? Did you talk with any humans or anyone from other packs?"
"No. Well, I played a few games of cards, but it wasn't fun for very long." Curling up on the bed, Grantaire tucks his head under his arm, knowing Courfeyrac will still be able to hear him. "And then I just… wandered our territory. Oh, I stopped by Marius' for a while, tried to talk to him. It didn't work very well. He wasn't paying much attention to me. I think he's going even crazier—his weird scent thing's getting worse. But I didn't say anything to anyone that could be dangerous to the pack."
Courfeyrac relaxes, a rueful chuckle slipping from his mouth as he pats Grantaire's shoulder. "I didn't think you would. I had to ask, though. Now, move over. Otherwise I'm going to be clambering over you in order to fit."
Lifting his head, Grantaire blinks in confusion at the more dominant wolf. "You're staying? Here? With me?"
"Yes." Courfeyrac crawls onto the bed, gathering Grantaire into his arms again. "I know you don't stay in your room often. Maybe if we make it smell more like the rest of the pack you'll feel more comfortable here."
"I don't like being alone." The words are a faint whisper as Grantaire sniffs at Courfeyrac's arm, relishing the mixture of the pack's scents that rolls off the other wolf.
"And you're not. Not ever." Courfeyrac bites gently at the side of Grantaire's neck, and a ghost of the memory of the pack initiation ceremony brings a smile to Grantaire's face.
Maybe someday he'll believe Courfeyrac's words, instinctively, easily.
Maybe someday he'll be worthy of this pack's company and affection.
For now, he'll just try very hard not to think about how angry Enjolras is going to be when they talk later tonight.
XXX
Bellamy sniffs at the wall that he's leaning against, closing his eyes, trusting to his beta to keep any curious humans away. The alpha could have waited until this evening to check on what Sean had told him, but the male wolf had been adamant that the scent was already faint and getting fainter, the area where he found it drenched in the scent of humans. If Bellamy waited until evening, there might not be any scent for him to find.
And if Sean's right about what he's scented, this is something that Bellamy very much wants to know about.
It takes Bellamy over five minutes of slowly, methodically working his way along the church wall to find the scrap of scent that had so excited Sean. He almost misses it. There are too many other scents—human scents, sweat and perfume and food and misery and illness and desire, always in heat and ready to mate, it's disgusting—and it's only his instincts that cause him to halt and re-scent the wall.
There it is. This scent isn't human. This is the scent of one of the Pack, but not someone who has any right to be on Bellamy's land. There aren't any pack-bonds or mate-bonds in the lingering snatches of the stray's scent, but it doesn't matter.
Bellamy doesn't forget the scent of those who trespass on his land, especially not when they then go on to form an alliance with the worst alpha Bellamy has ever had the displeasure of having to associate with.
"Is he right?" Yves, his beta, asks the question quietly as Bellamy opens his eyes and steps away from the wall. "Was the stray here?"
"Yes." Bellamy walks away from the wall as if he hadn't been doing anything strange, and the other female wolf falls in at his side. "The stray was most definitely here."
"Trespassing again." A low growl that is almost more felt than heard escapes from his beta. Bellamy isn't surprised—after what happened to Sean and Duchamp when they tried to kill the stray, the whole pack's been even more on edge than before.
And now the stray is back, once again trespassing in their territory. Bellamy's wolf howls in indignation and rage, desiring nothing more than to track down the stray and teach him proper respect. It might even be possible—this is unprecedented effrontery, the stray coming into Bellamy's territory when the ingrate actually has a territory he's been granted access to.
Which is the only thing keeping Bellamy from giving into the desire to simply hunt down and kill the stray. "The next alpha conclave is in four days."
"Yes." Yves speaks slowly, some of the tension draining from his body. "The first Monday after the full moon."
"You know all the neutral trails?" A smile pulls at the corner of Bellamy's mouth as the prospect of the hunt—not quite the hunt his wolf wants, but a hunt nonetheless—fills his mind.
"We all do." An answering predatory smile grows on Yves face.
"Take Sean with you. Follow all the neutral trails through Enjolras' territories. Sniff out anywhere else that the stray's been trespassing, and anyone who may have been traveling with him." Sean is the best tracker in the pack, but Bellamy knows better than to send him out on his own, especially near Enjolras' pack. Yves, as both a higher-ranked pack member and Sean's mate, will be able to keep him in check, though, even in the event that their traitorous pup turns up and makes things difficult.
"You have a plan." Yves licks his lips.
"The start of one. The specifics will depend on who the stray's wronged and who we can incriminate alongside him, but I think…" Bellamy grins. "I think this may be the first alpha conclave that I will actually enjoy attending."
