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Finbar awoke, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. Tears had formed in his eyes and fell in droplets as he blinked rapidly, looking around. His mind took a long moment to catch up, to realize what was going on; it had been an abhorrent nightmare, chilling him to his core.
Though grateful it had not been real, Finbar experienced a pang of grief. It had been a long time since he had been with his mother, three years to be exact; he still missed her immensely, and the somber memories of her hung over him like a dark shadow. Quite frankly, he knew what had probably happened to her; she was used for breeding inhumanely, and kept in a dreary kennel her entire life.
Finbar and his siblings were likely not the first litter she had given birth to, given her aggressive reaction to the man; she had clearly known what that blue cage meant, and she did not want to part ways with her children. She had done everything she could to protect them, but in the end it had failed; her attempts at keeping her pups had no doubt continued to fail.
With a deep, shaky breath the white wolf-dog knew that his mother had passed on, having outlived her usefulness by now. He accepted it, and in a way that meant that she was finally at peace, never to be used for profit ever again by the hands of cruel men.
He looked over at his sleeping mate and children; they were so peaceful, breathing slow and relaxed. Finbar had a feeling that their dreams were pleasant.
‘Willow was right,’ he thought decisively, looking up at the cloudless, starry night sky through the cracks in the rocks. ‘If ever I doubted that humans are bad before, I certainly don’t anymore; every moment of my life I have been hurt by people. I know what side I’m on. I’ll tear apart any that come here, they won’t take my son or daughters from me. They won’t hurt my family. Watch over me, Mother.’
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The sun rose far above the horizon, warmth covering the cold, sad thoughts that had filled Finbar’s mind the night before. A new day had begun, and he was eager to start it.
Finbar stretched and yawned, licking his mate’s face. The rustling of the dead leaves beneath them could be heard as the puppies, growing bigger each day, stirred and whined. Their eyes had finally begun to open, but their vision was cloudy; it had been a little over a week since they had been born. Their small bodies were developing, and looking less infantile.
“Good morning, sweet,” Finbar snuggled up to his loving partner.
Willow playfully nipped his good ear, avoiding the one that was still healing. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Finbar shrugged, but kept a positive demeanor. “It could have been better,” he replied. “How about you?”
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Willow tilted her head. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear. I slept great, but… is there anything bothering you?”
“I had a nightmare about humans,” he explained reluctantly, not wanting to lie to her.
“It’s okay, you’re here now, and we’re safe,” Willow licked his snout. “Humans never come into the heart of our pack's territory.”
His worry remained, but it was certainly eased; if they had never come this far, then chances were that they wouldn’t start anytime soon. “Good,” he said, bumping noses with her.
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Once outside the den, a blanket of heat covered his body. The grass of the clearing was illuminated nearly golden by the light, and the trees that encircled the camp bustled with a delightful, cool breeze. Flying insects made their flight all around the branches and leaves, and the sound of chirping birds filled the forest with a peaceful ambiance.
Finbar padded into the middle of the encampment, scanning around the way for the important figures in his life such as Silvera, his performance overseer. She had been pleased with him lately, and he wanted to take initiative to keep her that way; there would be absolutely no laziness on his part, he would not have it. He was here to take care of his family, and to find a place of belonging.
Something felt off.
The realization was abrupt.
All eyes were on him. Everyone stopped what they had been doing. Finbar flattened his ears and licked his lips nervously, tail held low. That bit of body language was no use in keeping their aggression from him. In a moment, he had been surrounded by snarling wolves, male and female alike. They snapped at his legs and his face, making loud vocal sounds and shrill growls.
“What is the meaning of this?” Finbar forced himself to remain respectful, cowering in submissive respect. Had they changed their mind about him? Had the Alpha changed his mind and now wished for him to be exiled?
No response came.
Finbar looked around, searching for something, anything, that would give him a clue as to what was going on. His frantic gaze rested upon the Alpha’s ledge, where he saw the Alpha himself standing motionless, seeming firm and resolute.
Watchful.
This was something greater than he could conceptualize; the confused wolf-dog had no idea what was happening, but he sensed that it was important. His next moves would need to be planned carefully, for there was no room for error.
In his right ear he heard a growl, then felt a pair of sharp fangs bite his right forearm before he had time to react. The wolf did not break the skin, and that decision seemed intentional. Another wolf bit his tail, and another his flank. One by one, the massive crowd nipped at his still sore body. Finbar yelped, whipping around to face each one, only for another antagonizing nip to strike his skin.
Finbar could now see Willow standing at the den entrance a few dozen feet away; to his surprise, she was not overly concerned about his well-being, but instead seemed to be watching intently with great interest.
‘Is this normal?’ the wolf-dog thought. ‘What do they want me to do?”
As the barrage of hostile attacks grew more frequent and intense, Finbar was beginning to sense their surmounting frustration. They wanted him to do something, and he simply wasn’t doing it. He didn’t fully understand things, but as a desperate attempt to stop this treatment he let his instincts take over; he let himself purposefully fall to the ground, revealing the tender flesh of his belly.
Cries broke from his mouth, for he was unable to hold them back; the wolves of the mountain pack sunk their teeth into his sides, legs, neck and tail, dragging him around over the ground. All that pain and yet Finbar remained still, he chose not to fight back. Everything in his wolf skull told him that to fight back now would be to forfeit all that he had worked so hard for up until now.