Finbar did not take many more steps before he felt that something was just a little off. He figured that it was just his frayed nerves over the appearance of Willow’s former mate. He kept an eye out, and sniffed the air determinedly, on their way home to the Isolation Pack camp.

Sugarloaf's fur stood on end, bristling along her spine.

Willow whined, then looked behind her. What she saw caused her to freeze in her tracks.

Finbar stopped just ahead of her. “What's wrong?” He asked.

“Ashen?” Willow spoke, her voice shaky with anxiety. “Ashen! Where are you?”

Their son was nowhere to be seen, and his scent was very faint when they checked for it with their sensitive nostrils.

“Ash! Come out! Now!” Finbar barked sternly.

No response.

Something was wrong. He would have responded to his father, not wanting to be punished.

Finbar turned to Moonlily, his only other child that could speak. “Did you see anything?” he asked her desperately with a very serious face, lowering himself to her level.

The silver pup shook her head, somewhat shakily. “N-no, dad,” she declared.

Finbar’s heart sank further. “Willow, take the children home, I’ll find him.”

With that, the white wolf-dog sprang forth, back the way they had come, hoping to find a fresh scent trail from his son. The rest of his family returned quickly to camp, stress and fear clinging to the tips of their fur.

Nothing could compare to the dread, the bolt of terror, that clasped his heart when he could not find any leads to Ashen. He needed to find him, he had to; his world would be over if something had happened to his little boy.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Finbar snarled to himself. ‘If anything hurt you, I will tear out their fucking entrails.’

----------------------------------------

Jargoth had not headed to the Birches to await the mate of Willow just yet when he noticed the vibe of the camp change. He looked around, scanning for the source of the strange feeling, and it did not take him too long to figure it out; it was the new mother herself, with her pups. He could not help but notice the blaring absence of Finbar, however, and the lack of a third pup, their son Ashen.

He would have assumed that the male child and Finbar had gone off alone for some father and son bonding, but Willow’s demeanor was far too troubled for that to have been the case.

‘What’s going on?’ he narrowed his green eyes, before bolting over.

“Willow,” the red wolf greeted, ears perked and holding his tail out straight. Their silver daughter gave Jargoth a scowl, and the white furred one refused to meet his gaze; they had probably heard bad things about him, but it was clear regardless that they did not appreciate him very much. It irked him, the nerve of that wolf-dog’s spawn to not like him, the rightful mate of their mother. They should not have ever been born, and if possible he would soon rectify the mistake that was their existence.

“Jargoth, I… I’m really scared, I’m sorry, I have to go talk to my father,” the light brown she-wolf explained, trembling where she stood before him.

“What’s happened?” Jargoth asked, concerned. The emotion was genuine; if Finbar had hurt her, he could not begin to describe the rage that burned within his soul.

“Ashen’s gone missing, and Finbar went to find him. I have to get back there once I alert Balto,” she responded, ears flattened, her body heated with worry.

Ah, yes, a perfect opportunity had crawled into his arms; the plan he had concocted with his aunt Luna would have to be improvised, for this was surely a much better route to take. “I could go to him right now, so you do not have to worry about it. The sooner he is found, the better.”

‘Oh goodie, how lucky am I?’ the red wolf thought, hardly able to keep himself from letting a mischievous smirk dance across his bulky maw.

There was a hint of hesitancy in Willow’s body language when he said that, and he noticed it very clearly. It made sense that she would be wary of him in her position. Quickly, though, the reluctance in her was replaced with something like acceptance. She had very little options left, and probably knew she had to allow anyone’s help at that moment.

“You may. That would be good. Thank you, Jargoth,” she sighed, a mix of relief and sounding uncomfortable. With that, the daughter of the Alpha rushed off with her puppies toward her father in the cliff’s rocks, to let him know the situation that was actively unfolding.

Her little children followed close behind.

Jargoth wasted no time turning tail and making a hard dash the way Willow had come from, hoping to catch up with Finbar, wherever that mongrel was. He had a new plan, one that was just simply golden.