The Alpha's Saviour

 

Waking up fully, Anya stood up and dived away from the bullet with a speed only her has ever felt.  The bullet landed on the grass.

“Wake up!” She shouted in her  thought and then every wolf stood up. Seeing what was happening they  began to run away from the bullets flying around, trying to dodge them. 

Vincent woke up and headed straight to attack one of the hunters. As he zoomed past Anya, she heard it for  the first time; “God help me, I will tear him limb to limb.” 

It was Vincent's thought. Shocked, she stood still to see if anyone else noticed. No one did. Better still, every wolf was trying to run away from the melting bullet. That’s what the hunters' ammunition was called. It is a type of bullet that goes by its name. It goes in and melt you inside out within minutes. There is no cure for it. And that is the same bullet that may hit Vincent if he doesn't turn back. 

“Will you stop?” Yelled Anya in her thought. 

The force of her thought made Vincent fall backwards. Perplexed, he stood and stared at his would-be soulmate. They had connected. Finally! He thought.  He turned and their eyes fell on each other. 

“Get out of your head and get every cub to safety, I can handle these guys.” Anya commanded. 

Vincent simply nodded and dived towards the cubs urging them to follow him to a hiding place. Most of the cubs were normal wolves. The other werewolves also helped in getting them to safety. 

The sky was clearing out, meaning that the werewolves were some minutes away from transforming back to their human form. 

Seeing that the cubs were out of danger, Anya turned away from the hunters to head to her cave when she heard the gunshot. The bullet was headed straight to her, but there is a reason a werewolf is different from a regular wolf, it is faster and stronger. There is also a reason why an alpha is the leader of a wolf pack. He is faster, stronger and reads minds. Anya is different. She is everything an alpha is and can control mere objects.  She only had to glance at the dangerous substance headed for her head and it changed direction to a tree, causing it to fall. The hunter that had fired the shot backed up for some seconds. He stared hard at Anya who stood her ground in her glory,  and that was when it happened. 

Release another shot and everyone of you is dead meat.

That was Anya's thought. It connected to the head of the hunters.  It had happened before. That was years ago when Emma was in danger. She had connected to the hunter that released the bullet.  Pushing the thought she began prancing back to her cage until her instinct told her to turn, and just in time she did. This was the most dangerous survival call she had to make. Within split of second, Vincent would have been a dead meat. 

Vincent had  dropped the last cub and came back to showcase his strength as the alpha. One over zealous hunter had released a bullet and it was headed for Vincent. 

At a batting of the eye lids Anya appeared before the bullet and redirected it to a second tree. 

For the last time, go home! She commanded the chief hunter. 

“Cease fire!” Yelled the man frantically, flashing torch light to different directions to get his fellow hunter's attention.  “Cease fire!” he yelled some more.

“Run!” he shouted in fear. 

The shooting from the different directions stopped and the hunters took to their heels.  

Vincent witnessed this  first hand. He had just watched his life as it almost melted away, only for someone he had always seen as weak to command the bullet to hit a tree and also force the men to cease fire. How did she do that? 

Throwing a glance at him, she  began walking away. Vincent ran towards her. She increased her pace and was gone before his very eyes. 

Impossible! Vincent exclaimed out. He tried to sniff her out but came up with no scent of her. No werewolf is that powerful! He thought to himself. Still shocked, he stood alone in that part of the forest thinking about what he had just witnessed. 

In his 20 years of experience as a werewolf and 8 years of duty as a pack lord, he had not heard or read it anywhere that a werewolf can control an object and telepathically  connect to mere humans.

Perhaps he needs to read more or make more research, he told himself as he began to walk back to the hide out. 

Getting there, he noticed that Anya wasn't there. He felt somehow ashamed to be saved by a wolf he considered weak. Perhaps it was best that she wasn't present for the address until she was ready to talk about everything. 

He addressed the pack telling them to be careful out there. With that, every wolf went about  their normal life. 

This time the sky was clear. The sun was beginning to  peek out of it's hiding place. The moon was far gone. Anya was back to her cave, she has transformed back to her human nature. Standing naked in the cave, she began to fumble through her cross bag for some clothing as her skinny jean and t-shirt of the previous night were in shreds, no thanks to her transformation. 

Bringing out another skinny jean, she fixed herself   into it,  dropped a top on it, wore her sneakers and made her way out of the cave. Walking towards the exit of the forest, she smelt something different, yet familiar: a werewolf in human form. 

She knew the scent of everyone in her pack, so it was not possible not to have smelt this person. Perhaps, a new wolf was in town, she told herself as she continued to walk towards the exit of the forest. 

Deciding to take a break from it, her thought went back to the events of the early hours. She analysed every event. She had never accessed that level of speed before, neither has she ever connected to her pack before. She began to think of what might had led to it. Perhaps danger causes the telepathic connection and anger causes me to connect to humans, she thought. As she thought that, her mind reminded her that she had been angry before now, especially during the hunting that killed Emma, how come she didn’t connect to her pack that evening. What was different today? 

“What did I do differently this time?” She queried herself, speaking out loud. 

As her thought continued to run wild in all that happened that morning, she walked towards the edge of  the forest where she had broken down the previous night and  came face-to-face with the hunter that had shot the last bullet. The stench was all over him. 

A man in his late fifties. He stared hard at her. Anya lips curved into a dangerous smile. They both knew about their identities. 

Deciding that he was the least of her problem, Anya attempted walking past him without saying a word, but he couldn’t  keep his ego in check and so he went: "when next I see you in this forest, I will melt you. Tell that to your alpha female." 

Oh? He doesn’t  know she was the female? And why was he referring to her as an alpha female? Alpha or not, nobody threatens her for any reason. 

Pushing the thoughts away, Anya turned and did the next thing that came to her head without thinking. She  hurled him off the ground by his neck into the air.

Holding him up, the man began panting and wheezing. He could barely breathe. He tried reaching Anya's face to fight back, but he was far too up in the air for that. He allowed the endless slapping of her arm to suffice, even though it seems not to be yielding any fruit 

With anger surging through her, she said: “the next time you think of killing your own kind because you feel you don't belong, remember that none of us chose to be a werewolf apart from you. 

She saw the expression on his face go from regular shock to a mixture of fear and shock.  His identity was blown. 

When Anya was a child, she read some  stories in her father's library about persons who want to become werewolves by all means. Some of them met with werewolves to bite them and turn them. They are referred to as mug bloods, which is another way of saying, aboriginal werewolves. 

That was the case of the hunter. He wasn’t born a werewolf, he was bitten by one according to his desires. But how did she know that? He asked himself.  Before he could access the situation, he felt her fling him to  the other side of the forest without uttering another word. 

Landing roughly on a tree branch, he managed to get hold of another branch to stable himself. Battling to regain a balanced breathing pattern, his mind went back to what she said about him choosing to be wolf. He pushed the thought aside. By the time he found his footing, she was gone. 

He tried to trace her, but found no tracks. 

Who is she? How is she that powerful? How does she know about aboriginal werewolves? He queried himself several times as he began to head on his way.