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And if they scent us and swerve to avoid us?Tove asked as her paws dug into the hard ground in anticipation.
We’ll catch them from behind, Marcus answered.Are you ready?he asked the gathered Lycans. Low growls and snaps of air were his answer.Good. Let’s hunt.
They reached the low ground just before the swarm of Drakhyn did. Their enemy had not been ready for them, and in truth, Marcus had not been prepared for their numbers.
The Ancients and the moon bless you this day, Marcus thought to his Lycans.Strike true. Taras, I need you beside me, Elrick will understand.
The Lycan moved silently amongst the trees as they watched the Drakhyn cross the land. They were large in number, but there was no organisation to their travel, they were spread out. Instead of organised columns to march and travel, they were haphazard and disjointed. Some were gathered in a group, some were spread too thinly. The Lycans of the free packs were in the rear, and Marcus noted that they had more solidarity as they moved.
Attack.
The Lycans sprang from the trees, the immediate casualties of their assault dead before the Drakhyn could properly retaliate. As the Lycans moved with swift precision through their enemy, more Drakhyn fell, but the ones further back took up defensive stances. As they stood and waited, the Lycans of the free packs rushed past them, ready to fight.
Marcus had been Alpha for many years, he had been the alpha of his pack, and when the Drakhyn took his pack away, he had wandered for many years, his rage fuelling his revenge. It was during his revenge that he realised how strong his alpha link was. He did not need to be in his Lycan form to communicate with his kin. He could link with pack in either form. His call and reach to the Lycan packs was wide, and even though he had been Second to the Principal Elder of the Northern Territory for almost seventeen years, he had never stopped being a Lycan.
A pack Lycan.
An alpha.
TheAlpha.
Stop!His voice of command dropped every free Lycan in the lowlands to their bellies. Marcus kept his own Lycans who ran with him this night free from his command. He pushed his will out on the others, forcing them to sink low as he stood, untouched among them. The Drakhyn that rushed to take him down were killed by Tove or Taras; both worked in perfect harmony to defend their alpha.
Marcus’s eyes glowed bright amber as he cast his gaze over the free packs that had chosen to follow Drakhyn.
Yield.
A chorus of whimpers met his ears even through the rage-filled snarls as the Drakhyn fought his brothers and sisters.
Yield to me. Now.
Marcus pushed his will outward again, and the enemy Lycans silenced. He held them all as the Lycans in his pack took care of the Drakhyn. He quickly assessed their odds and knew what he had to do. He was an alpha who had very rarely had to impose his will on another Lycan. Forcing a change on a Lycan had been his limit. Free will was a gift from the Ancients, and to submit another to your will was a cowardly act, Marcus had always thought.
Now in the rough wilds of the Yukon, Marcus was going to force his will on over sixty Lycans.
Fight. Rise and fight them,theyare your enemy.
It took tremendous effort, but slowly, one by one an enemy Lycan rose to its paws and swiped out at a Drakhyn. The Drakhyn were not prepared to be attacked by the Lycans that they had travelled with, and soon they were fighting Lycans beside them and in front of them.
Marcus concentrated with all his might on the free packs. Once they were fighting, their natural instinct to kill Drakhyn seemed to overtake any other senses. Marcus felt hope rise in him.
Until the Drakhyn shifter walked out of the woods, its coat so black it wasn’t natural. It was huge, almost a head taller than Marcus. Its fangs glistened in the moonlight, and its eyes shone black.
Almost casually, it walked amongst the feuding bodies. Nothing touched it, nothing could even get near it. The black wolf didn’t flinch when a body, Lycan or Drakhyn, fell in front of it, merely stepping over it. Steadily it walked forward to meet the alpha.
When it was a few feet away from Marcus, it cocked its head slightly, its tongue lolled out in mockery. It dipped its head, and Marcus felt his rage.
Yield.
Nothing. He could not control this wolf, as he knew he would not. This was no Lycan.
Marcus snarled in hatred, his fangs growing in his muzzle. With a low growl, he leapt forward, claws extended. The wolf launched forward to meet his attack, and the two bodies collided with a crash that could be heard around the clearing.
Marcus bit into its haunch and was rewarded with a yelp of pain, even as he felt the slice on his foreleg from a wicked claw. The two enemies rolled on the ground, biting and clawing, Marcus’s venom slowly working on the Drakhyn shifter, but in turn, the Drakhyn shifter’s own venom was affecting Marcus.
They sprang apart, circling each other, deaf to the battle around them.
Marcus assessed his opponent quickly. A slight limp, a good chunk of hindleg missing, and blood ran down its face, matting its fur. Marcus knew his own injuries. He was no better off, but he was still standing.
