Leader of the Pack

The Bloodmoon werewolf clan was a feared name. Fierce hunters, ruthless fighters, and loyal to their pack. Undyingly loyalty had lead to their strength, and any attempts to invade or separate them had resulted only in bloodshed.

They had been under the leadership of a wolf known to many as Silvermane. For nearly half a century he had built and gathered his pack, and garnered the reputation they had recieved.

His time had passed recently, though, and their new leader had followed in her father's footsteps, upholding his ideals and the strict order of their pack.

Known simply by the name of Rowen, it was unusual to see a female alpha in a pack, particularly one of such renown. While it wasn't unheard of for a mated pair of wolves to lead a pack together, she had remained unmated, unpaired, and unwilling to settle with anyone, dubbing each potential suitor an unworthy mate for one reason or another.

The Bloodmoon wolves had not once questioned their new leader. As word of the young, inexperienced wolf leading the pack spread, though, they faced a new problem. Attacks from other clans, previously almost unheard of, were becomming more common. Each one had been fought off, but at a loss of precious lives, and, perhaps more importantly, a loss of morale.

Now, visitors were met with caution, patrols guarding their territory more closely.

The Silvermoon pack was strong and and crafty pack of werewolves. They held a bloodline directly from the extinct dire wolves gene. Their strength was know to be known as earth shakers. They fought their battles as nobles would and demolished their competition. But with a title like that comes those who wish to take it from you.

Luna named after the moon and Antares named after a giant red star led this viciously strong band of werewolves to their glorious names. But their reign was coming to an end and they needed an heir to their throne of power. Which is when they conceived Altair who's name literally meant Star Child.

Altair trained in the art of combat like all were suppose to be in his pack and it was with no doubt that he became the strongest wolf in the entire pack. Which meant passing even his father in strength. He rose to his throne and led the pack and shortly his father died and soon after his mother.

But they were stubborn about how big the Silvermoon name was and it was grounded into Altair since childhood. But the attacks on his throne were more and more organized more deadly. Their brute strength and cunning in battle wasn't enough. They were too head on with their approach and Altair noticed this.

He also noticed the Bloodmoon's in the similar place so he trudged into Bloodmoon territory with a small band of wolves. He was stopped by patrol and he asked almost demanded to see the Alphess. Their situation had common ground. He'd never met the fae but better now than later.

The entrance to the Bloodmoon's lair seemed little more than a cave in the woods, but once taken inside, Altair's patrol was greeted to an elaborately carved out stone entryway, leading to open doorways and a larger entryway straight ahead.

He was only allowed to bring a pair of his patrol with him, the others forced to wait in the main hall as he was taken through the large portal into the room behind it.

He was met with a few low growls from the guards, their scent unfamiliar and foreign. However, Altair was allowed to step forward.

The centerpiece of the room was a throne carved out of the wall of the cavern, elaborately decorated and lined with furs and gems. A young woman lounged on it, one leg lazily over the arm of it, her back resting against the corner.

Bright honey-colored eyes scanned the unfamiliar lycanthrope as he entered her chamber, her chin propped up in her hand. She raised an eyebrow, and sat up a bit as he was brought forward.

Despite her cold demeanor, Rowen was something of a beauty, a few whispered rumors of her looks having reached at least as far as the Silvermoon pack. All had been true, understated if anything. Raven hair fell around her shoulders, her body concealed by a form-fitting outfit, showing off at least the soft curves of her figure and little more.

"What business do you have here?" Despite her youth, her voice had an authorative tone, commanding respect even from the intimidating male wold brought before her.

Altair had to admit that their defensive set up was pretty good for this cave. He had almost questioned if Silvermoon wolves would even be able to enter the cave so easily. When the patrol first broke up growls could be heard behind him. Their Alpha was walking into unknown territory and they weren't there to protect him. A sharp bark shut them up pretty quickly.

"Do you have so little faith in me that you worry about me like this." Despite his words he turned around with a soft smile on his face.

Altair continued down the hall until his next band of wolves had been broken from him but this time there were no growls. They had faith in their Alpha he hadn't gotten them here out of pure luck.

Altair was brought before Rowen and he had to admire the beauty of the fae in front of him. "Ah Rowen I've heard so many things about you. I actually met your father when I was a pup. He was a great man indeed. I'm happy to see his pack had a heir that could follow in her father's footsteps."

Altair stared directly at not out of defiance but showing her that he himself was not a joke. He would be respected as well by the female. "I've come to ask for a merge of the packs. Silvermoon and Bloodmoon as one. Attacks on pack borders have become an issue as of late and I'm sure you've noticed. A few great packs have fallen in the process. To preserve our packs as well as finding some comfort in such a fine woman as your self I'd like you to become my mate."

(Ugh. Sorry about the delay. I've been crazy busy all weekend.)

The female raised an eyebrow at the request. Her gaze flitted from matching Altair's gaze, sizing him up none too discreetly. She shifted in her seat and propped her chin up on the heel of her palm, and a bit of a smirk flashed on her lips.

"My mate?" she laughed a bit, her guards chuckling along with her quietly. "My dear Altair, our clans have been friendly rivals for ages, but we've always preserved our boundaries. Why should I accept you as my mate? What do you have to offer me?" she asked.

Rowen rose to her feet slowly, her stride slow and measured as she approached the other lycanthrope slowly, pausing a few feet away from him. As she moved, there was a tense shift in the guards flanking her throne, each of them ready to lunge if Altair so much looked like he was threatening their Alpha.

"I have had many suitors, both before and now that I've become this pack's alpha. Strong males, all of them, but none offering anything that would benefit my pack, and less that interests me. What makes you different than them?" she asked.

She crossed her arms across her chest as she spoke, her gaze turned up to meet Altair's once more. Despite the fact that she stood nearly a head shorter than him, she still managaged an intimidating air, a challenge in her voice as well as her demeanor.