Artanis sensed, long before he smelled or heard, NightTracker's
approach. He straightened himself up, not wanting to seem weak in her
eyes. For some reason, what the pitch black she-wolf thought of him
was extremely important. A wave of guilt washed over his heart. He
knew that he should not be so familiar with the new wolf, especially
given that his love, his mate, Tempestade, was here with him, having
survived the decimation of the pack he had come to regard as family.

He turned to look at her, but found that, try as he might, he could
not meet her gaze. He felt his eyes stinging at the very thought of
it. She was to be a constant reminder to him of his failure to live up
to his oath as Alpha, to protect those under him from Malik's
traitorous actions. He stopped trying. Tracker (he was already
thinking of her in terms of a familiar name), would likely berate him
for his 'weakness'.

That was frustrating in and of itself. That NightTracker seemed to
regard any sort of positive emotion, that is to say, emotions other
than anger or hatred, as nothing but weakness, something to be culled
out and removed from one's heart. Tempestade had told him stories of
her former Alpha, how he felt very much the same way. It was natural
in a militaristic leader like him. "Also in a wolf who has been alone
for a very long time," he thought bitterly. Would that happen to him
eventually? Would he become a hardened killer, living only to survive
to the next day, the next meal?

"We must go, wolf," he heard her say. The edge to her voice softened a
bit when she spoke to him. "And you as well, female." There it was
again. Was it just the grey alpha's imagination or was there a note of
jealousy in her voice. Now was not the time for it...when she said
move, he'd learned...you moved.

OFF:
Well...enjoy.