Despite every effort, eventually, a child must grow. There are no certainties that a young wolf will be protected from every threat. The more a cub knows of the dangers of their world, the more they shall overcome those dangers and come out unscathed on the other side. There are few things that are dangerous to wolves: sickness, famine, humans; there is also the danger that no wolf likes to admit to a cub: other wolves. Such a revelation can cause a fear of outsiders and strangers that may very well keep a cub alive.
As a cub grows, so do the instincts and abilities that sense both dangers and anomalies. Not all anomalous scents are to be feared; some will lead to a new kind of prey, a good meal, or something yet unspoken between a pair of wolves. Yet others are those that should send a cub darting for the safety of home, but they cannot know the difference without training.
Just as children, wolves must be allowed to grow.
Packs
Hermione noticed a distinct difference in the Alpha werewolf the next time she saw him. His jaw was tight, and though he hid it well, could not entirely mask the scent of frustration that lingered when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She wondered immediately what had happened and was determined to find out throughout the course of the evening.
Fen's grasp on the small witch was strong and unyielding the moment she was in his arms. She curled into his hold, merely glad to see him. After a moment she noticed a faint scent on the larger werewolf that immediately set her on edge, though she could not pinpoint why. After a few more sniffs and some further deliberation, Hermione decided that it was another female. A strong one.
Fenrir froze the moment the girl in his arms let out a quiet growl. He was certain she wasn't doing it on purpose, but there was no doubt she could smell the other werewolf on him. That being said, he was surprised at the vehemence at which the girl seemed to bristle at the scent.
"Who is she?" the girl growled, frowning up at him with dark eyes.
Fenrir sighed quietly, a small grin on his lips. He was certain his little pup was all ready to fight the other Alpha female despite her obvious disadvantages. Her little Alpha instincts were kicking in already. His mind quickly cycled through the last two weeks or frustration as he attempted to decide what to tell the smaller werewolf.
Fenrir snarled at the new werewolf in the midst of their small village. Ingrid had only arrived hours prior and was already ordering everyone around like it was her pack. The werewolf eyed him without any hesitance or wariness; she was here because she wanted something.
"Why are you here?" He growled, knowing he was very unlikely to receive an answer straightaway. He stiffened when she moved toward him, her hips swaying slightly.
"Why am I ever here, Greyback?"
Fenrir growled when the woman practically draped herself over his shoulders. He only acknowledged her touch for long enough to forcefully flick her hand from his chest. "My answer is the same as it always is. No," he snarled.
The woman only laughed before settling herself across from him, acting as though he had not just refused her once more. Cool, as always.
Fenrir set his jaw as she began to speak.
"You know my pack is struggling, Fenrir. Joining our packs together will make them both stronger," she began.
It was Fenrir's turn to laugh, "My pack needs nothing from yours. You're welcome to stay, Ingrid Quisling," the werewolf flinched at his use of her name, "but you will not leave with what you want."
The other werewolf growled, "That is not my name, Greyback."
Fenrir smirked mirthlessly, "It is, and will continue to be until you earn a new one."
"We were on the same side, once," she growled at him.
Fenrir continued to grin at her. It frustrated her that she had no power over him no matter how much she tried. He knew she would not give up; she never did, but he had to find some entertainment in her being there or she would drive him mad.
"Once. It's the reason you are allowed to come and go with your head still attached."
She didn't speak to him for nearly a day after their first conversation, much to Fenrir's pleasure. He wouldn't deny she was attractive, but looking at her made his stomach churn.
"Alpha? Are you okay?"
The girl's insistent growl brought Fenrir back to the present.
"I'm fine, pup."
She still looked concerned and he could smell her growing irritation. She needed to know; so, despite his reluctance to fill her in on the less pleasant parts of pack politics, he told her.
"Her name is Ingrid," he told the cub quietly. "There is another pack across the border and their Alpha is...determined to join our packs together."
"I don't like the way she smells."
Fenrir laughed at her candidness, "Neither do I, pup. Her pack has not been doing well lately, and she thinks joining ours will fix her problems."
The girl quieted, but continued to stare, expecting him to continue.
"Loyalty is very important, especially for a werewolf. Do you understand?"
The small werewolf nodded, her face as serious as he had ever seen it.
"If you give it, you must respect that choice. As Alpha, if I make a promise, I must keep it. If I died, and someone else became Alpha, they must also keep that promise," Fenrir could not keep the growl out of his voice as he spoke.
"What happens if they don't?"
Fenrir took a breath to calm himself, "That depends. You're very young yet, pup."
She immediately opened her mouth, and Fenrir growled sharply before she could manage to retort. The girl was fiery, and became moreso every passing month. It was a quality that would serve her well someday.
"If you were with the pack you would know already. There is more to being a wolf than you know." Fenrir ran a hand through his hair, he'd never actually had to explain this before. "Wolves have mates," he said simply.
The girl nodded, a frown on her face, "I remember learning in primary school that wolves mate for life; it makes sense that we are the same."
"Most animals choose their mates, pup. We don't," Fenrir said, hoping he wouldn't trigger a storm. Most new werewolves did not enjoy that part of the story.
Instead, the girl frowned once more, it was not a frown of irritation but rather of contemplation. "So, is Ingrid your mate?"
The harsh snort that came out of Fenrir startled the girl. "No, little one. Ingrid is a self-serving dog who doesn't have a mate because she won't keep her promises."
"You hate her."
"Alpha, why do you hate her?" Ylva came to him later that night, her eyes wide.
Fenrir chuckled quietly, it was time for her to learn. "In a few weeks you will go with your Father to guard the herds for the spring, yes?"
Ylva's posture straightened and she nodded eagerly, "It's my first time! We have to guard them every year."
"Do you know why?"
"The elders will give us enough food to get us through the winter if hunting is bad, and we keep their animals safe from the other predators."
Fenrir nodded once again, "That is true. Do you know what happens if we don't?"
"Father says we'll be cursed."
Fenrir nodded, "It's been passed down for thousands of years. We have to honor it, or the pack will die. Slowly, but it will happen."
"It is good for us to honor it. It's healthy."
"It is. There are some packs who will not. They reject the old ways as superstition and fairy tale, and they suffer for it."
Fenrir told the girl almost exactly what he had explained to Ylva several days prior, ending with the same answer to a similar question.
"I hate her because she doesn't seem to care that her pack is cursed, and that joining with ours will likely curse us too."
"And then we won't have mates?" The girl's eyes widened with sorrow.
"No mates, no pups, and eventually, no food," Fenrir said quietly. "Don't worry, pup. I won't let that happen," he reassured her softly.
The smaller werewolf nodded, she grumbled slightly about something seemingly unrelated, but Fenrir couldn't quite decipher the words.
"What was that, little one?"
"Why do you let her touch you so much?" She repeated, growling quietly.
Fenrir gave her a strange look, there was something more to this than simple Alpha instincts. A hint of jealousy wafted off the girl, making Fenrir grin to himself. It seemed the girl thought more of him than she ought to.
"Does that bother you?"
The girl nodded, still frowning deeply. Her scent was one of confusion now, though the sharp twinge of envy was still present.
Fenrir smiled slightly in spite of himself. He frowned slightly, noticing the long-furred tail that the girl had cradled in her lap. He cocked his head in confusion, and amusement. "You have a tail, little one."
She pouted, "It's not my fault, Alpha. I didn't know!"
He laughed heartily, enjoying the new lightness of their conversation, "What did you do?"
"It was polyjuice potion. She always smelled like cats, I couldn't tell the difference between her hair and theirs," She whined slightly.
Fenrir continued to laugh, every time he caught sight of her tail he began to laugh once more. He chortled quietly while she pouted at him. She was so very endearing, and he had missed her, especially with Ingrid around to fuel his temper. He had been so irritable, and now he was calm once again.
At least, until the moon began ascending over the horizon. The large werewolf grinned.
"Ready, pup?"
Hermione nodded eagerly. She was always ready for the full moon. She was still processing everything Fen had told her. She was curious to know more about mates and the pack and the other things she was certain she did not know about her own kind. She had been surprised at her own reaction at Ingrid's scent on the older werewolf. She did not like it at all, and she felt as though there was something more to it than the reasons Fen had explained to her. She could not pinpoint why exactly she was so upset about it. Fen had teased her about being jealous and that of course was part of it, she had been jealous. Which was silly of her; not only was she far too young, but she would find her mate one day and forget about these school-girl feelings.
As the pair walked, Hermione continued to stare up at the larger werewolf. She had so many questions yet, but Fen had already done more talking than he normally liked to and she didn't want to irritate him. Not long into their walk, Fen sighed.
"What, pup? I can practically hear you thinking," he said, a grin on his face.
"How will I know who my mate is?" She asked quietly.
"I hear it's different for everyone; but you'll probably use your nose," the werewolf turned to boop her gently on the aforementioned facial feature.
"Do you have a mate?" She braved, hoping he would not get angry at her for asking something so personal.
"Somewhere, I like to think," he said, quietly.
Hermione took in the other werewolf's sudden change in demeanor. He seemed sad, if only for a moment or two. She wasn't certain how old the man was, but she hadn't expected him to be unattached, especially after how kind he had been to her. It further spoke to her that he had to be telling the truth about mates. He didn't seem to want to be alone. She frowned up at him, concerned, when he sent her a sad smile.
"What if I never meet mine?" Hermione asked quietly. If Fen hadn't met his mate yet, maybe some werewolves just never found theirs.
Fen laughed quietly, dispelling the lingering smell of loneliness that had settled over the larger werewolf, he obviously had seen through her attempt to disguise her question, "I'm not dead, little one. You'll meet your mate one day."
Hermione watched the werewolf sigh and smile slightly.
"And, I suppose, so will I."
The young witch nodded. She wasn't certain how finding a mate worked, but she was certain Fen would find his. She knew he cared too much about the pack for whatever moon-given magic decided their destinies to ignore the loneliness the Alpha werewolf did not bother to hide from her.