Wolves, by nature, are hardy creatures. The good of the pack is of paramount importance. Personal pride, agendas, and even comfort must be set aside if they pack's needs demand it. A wolf that is not willing to give themselves over for the good of the rest is a burden and a danger to the rest of the pack. Self-denial is one of the most important lessons a leader can learn, whether wolf or human, as long as it is for the betterment of those following.

Answers

Fenrir could not keep the grin off his face as he watched the two youngest pack members spar together. They were actually concentrating this time; earlier in the week it had taken only minutes for the two to descend into giggles. The girl had seemed surprised when he suggested teaching her their method of hand-to-hand, or as often as not, tooth-to-claw. It had taken her only moments to note his serious tone, and had readily agreed with a frown of her own. She needed to know how to fight without a wand if the day came when he was no longer around to act as Alpha. If anyone ever challenged her, she needed to know how to respond. She could not be afraid of using every tool at her disposal.

He hadn't required either of them to battle each other fiercely enough to require anything more than fists and feet. He knew she was not entirely comfortable with herself outside of the full moon. They had time for a few more hunts before they returned to school, and Fenrir was going to take full advantage of that time. She had done alright on the last hunt, but she had been hesitant with her teeth. They were small, dwarfed by her adorably large front teeth, but she was young. Ylva did not have her fangs either. When the girls were closer to adulthood, their teeth would come in without a fuss. It was yet again another good reminded that they were children. He had been lucky, having been bitten before he was too old. A werewolf turned as an adult rarely acquired as much standing as one who had grown up in the pack. After a certain age, the wolf teeth refused to grow.

The werewolf nodded in approval when the girl nearly had the advantage over Ylva. The older girl was vastly more experienced, but the younger werewolf was fiercer, more determined. He loved having her here in the pack. She was handling the transition very well; she fit right in with both the old werewolves and the younger adults. Fenrir was once again saddened by the lack of children in the pack. Ylva had grown up too quickly, being surrounded by only adults until now. Now, she was able to be a child. Both here and at Hogwarts, for however long it would last. He knew they could not stay this way forever, and in a few short weeks they would be back at Hogwarts. It agitated him still when she was out of his reach; it was not worse than it had been when he had first found her, but neither was it truly any better.

Hermione stared at Ylva from across the fire, feeling her mouth water at the sight of her friend devouring the large squirrel she had caught only thirty minutes before. Her stomach growled fiercely and she wrapped her arms around it; the emptiness boring into her like a dental drill into a rotten tooth. She glanced up at Fenrir, knowing what he was going to say before he said it.

"When you catch something, you may eat it, little one," the werewolf said firmly, but his tone carried a gentleness to it that somehow made it worse.

Her lip trembled and she nodded. She knew he wasn't going to let her starve; he had always taken care of her, but she could not accept pity. She wouldn't. She could do this. Setting her jaw, she stood and turned away from the fire, stuffing down the feeling of hunger by concentrating on nothing but the scents and sounds that permeated the mountain air.

Fenrir frowned as he watched the girl stalk off once more. They had been out all day, and she'd come so close to catching something all on her own, but close was not good enough. As a child, he did not expect her to be able to feed herself, but the more he pushed her, the more determined her scent became. He watched her continually push through her hunger to go back on the prowl.

Another hour passed and she had not come back. Rising, he quietly followed her trail. It was not long before he found her, looking frustrated. He could smell there had been a rabbit nearby, but it was gone now. Her anger and failure was hot in the air, and he was fairly certain it was time for her to come back to the fire.

"Pup—" he started softly, only to be cut off by an irritated growl. He raised his eyebrows as her determination returned. With a resigned nod, he stepped back and let her continue. There was no danger in letting her hunt until she was ready to come back. He walked back to the fire, responding to Geira's raised eyebrows with a grin and a shrug. The rest of the hunting party was asleep, including Ylva, who had nearly fallen asleep in her meal. There was plenty enough left of the doe Fenrir had caught to share, but he was proud of the girl for refusing to give up.

Another hour passed and she still had not come back. He could feel her hunger and frustration growing further through the bond they inexplicably shared.

It was late when he felt her returning. Geira had taken her leave to sleep a while since, and he had refueled the fire more than once. He barely heard her footsteps as she approached, but rather a quiet sniffling. It was not loud enough to disturb the sleeping party, but he was more than confused. He watched her approach, carrying something in her hands, her mouth smeared with red. Her lip trembled as she approached and she refused to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Alpha," she whispered, obviously choking back sobs and reeking with disappointment.

Fenrir cocked his head at the sight of her. She held a small hare in her bare hands. She had done what he asked, so why did she seem so certain she had failed?

She handed him the animal, tears leaking from her eyes. There were definitely small teeth marks in the exposed muscle of the rabbit.

"I— I was so hungry. I couldn't—"

Fenrir laughed, unable to help himself. Quickly setting the animal aside, he pulled the girl into a tight hug, still chuckling. "I told you to eat whatever you caught, little one."

Tears leaked freely from her eyes now. "But wasn't it a test?"

"Of course," he said, pulling her chin up to make her eyes meet his, "You passed."

If anything, she cried harder. Her scent grew more confused. "What did I do?"

He shook his head with amusement. "You used your teeth." He held the rabbit out to her, "You can eat, pup."

"Don't I have to cook it?"

Fenrir shook his head with another patient grin. "Only if you want to wait that long. Do you remember the deer last year? Your stomach doesn't change just because the moon is gone."

She nodded, her eyes visibly brightening. She did not speak again as she suddenly became very immersed in her meal.

Fenrir closed his eyes, trying to keep calm. He was not certain why she was being so belligerent, but he had not been expecting it. Perhaps he had pushed her too hard. She repeated her question, her small frame quivering slightly.

"Why did you not want me to come, Alpha?"

"I did, pup. Now I'm afraid no one wants you to leave. It's dangerous for us outside."

"I was fine this year," she growled in protest, only to be met with Fenrir's snarl.

He glared at her, clearly her definition of fine was very different from his. "You cannot be so reckless with your life."

"Why? It's mine, isn't it?!" she snarled back, immediately picking up his ire and responding in kind.

"You are important to the pack," he said through his teeth. If he was calm, she would stay calm as well.

"No more than anyone else," she argued.

He growled again, startling the girl slightly. The light of recognition appeared in her eyes. She knew he was keeping something from her, and he could only blame himself and his temper for letting her find out.

She growled straight back at him, obviously unafraid to challenge him. He could sense both her frustration and her curiosity as she stood up to him. He had pushed her hard, but she had pushed herself harder than he asked for. She should know why. This was not about why any longer, however. This was about the challenge. She was built to challenge him, and he had to admit he was curious to see how far he could push her before she backed down.

She bared her small teeth and snarled.

Fenrir responded with a serious warning growl.

The sound of angry werewolves caught Ylva's attention. She got close enough to see Fenrir and Hermione snarling fiercely at one another. She could smell the anger and frustration from where she stood. Immediately concerned, Ylva ran for her father.

"Papa!" She could not help the concern that rattled her at seeing her friend so deep into conflict with the Alpha, no matter what her eventual status with Fenrir may turn out to be.

Her frantic face must have spurned her father into action even before he could smell her, for he immediately darted in the direction she pointed. She followed after him, confused when he stopped and held her back when he saw what was going on.

"Papa! She should not—"

"They need to work this out themselves, Ylva. They will have many more fights like it. You know they'll both be fine, in the end."

A loud cry reached their ears, shrill and feminine.

Ylva gave her father a reproachful glare.

Hermione growled angrily, unwilling to submit to Fenrir's unwavering presence.

The larger werewolf was not willing to back down, and somehow Hermione knew that he should not be. She felt guilty challenging him, but she found herself unable to stop. She wanted to know why he was pushing her and she wanted to know now. She didn't know what possessed her to strike out at him, but she did.

He caught her hand deftly and before she knew it, he had his jaw clamped in her shoulder. She yelped, more in surprise than in pain. In fact, it did not really hurt at all. She felt her face heat up even as she tried to struggle against his hold and was stilled by another stern growl.

Slowly, Fenrir released his hold on her and stepped back. "Are you done now?" he asked with a growl.

She nodded, unable to look at him. She heard him sigh quietly and mutter something in his native tongue. A cool, tickling sensation ran through her shoulder where he had bitten her. She braved a glance up at the older werewolf, who no longer looked angry. In fact, he was wearing a bemused smile.

"You're already resisting me."

She opened her mouth, but was silenced once more when he continued to speak.

"I expected it, little one. I did not want you to carry the weight on your shoulders so young, and so I did not tell you."

Hermione nodded, still not quite understanding, but rather recognizing that Fenrir was going to give her some answers.

"Someday, there will be a time when I won't be here."

Hermione's heart sunk as she surveyed the werewolf's grave frown. This was far heavier than she ever thought.

"I don't want you to worry about that; it may never happen. If it does, the pack will need a leader."

Hermione glanced over at Andor's house briefly, noticing the he and Ylva were standing on the hill, watching. She looked back at Fenrir, confused.

Fenrir shook his head. "Andor will be there to help you through it, but he will not lead for you. That may be explained in time, and you will wait for that explanation."

She nodded once more, the weight Fenrir had spoken of settling on her shoulders in a gravity she had never felt before.

"As long as I'm around, Hermione, you don't have to worry."