aurora borealis- noun plural: An aurora that occurs in northern regions of the earth. Also called northern lights.

In the middle of a dense forest of coniferous trees lies the Aurora Borealis pack, its name coming from its location. At certain times of the year, the northern lights appear, dancing almost magically in the sky. A narrow trail leads you through the close evergreens. Giving into temptation, you begin moving your paws. By venturing into this territory, you are venturing into a land belonging to a pair of feared leaders. You have heard rumors of them...but you decide to take your chances and hope that the tales of blood and death are merely fabricated stories to scare wolves.

You have walked nearly five minutes before you realize the sound of paws stepping somewhere from behind. Deciding that you've made a mistake, you quickly turn around, but find that you cannot go any further. Standing before you is one of the mighty kings you've heard of. His blood red pelt clings over perfectly toned bands of muscle. But that isn't what causes such fear in your veins. One of his amber eyes has a horrid, bleeding scar across it, and his good eye seems to stare right through you. His face is expressionless, giving off none of his intentions. You cower away as his jaws part.

"I'm Hell Demon."

His voice was deep and cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Right where he left off, another voice picks up from behind you. You whirl around and find yourself facing another male with steely muscles beneath his pelt, which seems to consist of every shade of brown. He had startled you, and you're amazed how you hadn't at all detected his approach.

"And I am Ghost...we're the alphas of Aurora Borealis."

His deep voice was laced thickly with a Native American accent. His own golden eyes are directing a harsh glare your way. Now you're caught in the middle...your breathing has become heavy in your panic and you're not sure which to face.

"You've foolishly trespassed into our territory. You face the one called Hell Demon's whose voice is once more addressing you. Get out, or become a corpse along our border."

It's obvious they mean business. So now it's up to you...take your chances and stay, or heed their warning and waste no time getting out with your life.

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IF ONLY, IF ONLY
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 photo NIKA-PAINTED_zps13c03291.jpg
[While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely, crying to the moon, “If only, if only.”]

He looks up at me, exhausted from the reality of his spiel, and there’s a hope that livens his eyes, a searching plead for vindication. But where has my tongue gone, my quick wit and my adaptive nature? This is too much Kalgalath, I make myself a martyr to soothe you, but your story involves players I do not know. It is not the tender nature of this situation that frightens me; I have long come to terms with Zig’s bitter and unwanted existence in my life and in my heart. No, he destroys me once again with that piteous glance because tonight he depends on me for help, he finally leans on me.

How can I tell him I do not know how to help him?

This wolf is a stranger to me, with the aching familiarity of an intimate mate—the way we share breaths makes each inhalation sink straight into my bones. I match him slowly, cautiously optimistic that by a word at a time I can navigate this minefield. But he is a mess, with a new family (“Blayre?”) and problems that I have avoided. Am I a fraud at his borders tonight, or a pupil seeking to learn the ways of this strange lifestyle from the master himself?

I can’t tell, all I know is that I am too messed up for him. But I will talk. Because so is this world, and it took multiple tragedies to finally break my precious Kalgalath, to show him reality. Oh, I would bite the bullet to go back before his icy eyes lost that optimistic glean. But it’s too late now. We’re always missing each other by a hair…too late, too early, running and dashing, jumping and not caring, until we realize that our days have been spent worthlessly, our lives are empty.

Or am I just speaking about myself now?

I am taken aback, but I come to move closer into his space, I let him register the lingering shock in my eyes. I do not approve of his exile of Zig, but I understand it. Oh! of course I do, and I am still fighting for the words to express as such when a new, easier thought, slips its way to my lips. “I am not perfect. Do you want me to be?” I am challenging him in a way, I know that. He needs to know that the rest of us around him are not as infallible as he is, that we have flaws. I’m not asking this to give him a taste of his own medicine, or to make him repent. I’m looking towards the future. I’m asking for me.

The me that is not alone anymore.
The me...and Kalgalath.

______

omega
______





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