Alpha's Nala

Michael Angelo

On the Southern part of the Redwood Region, at the Redwood Pack Mansion.

Saturday, 

5:35 PM.

I am already aware of the loud music, many chatters, and clicking of glasses down the hall.

However, after a long day of paperwork and dealing with pack issues, my mind and body needed serenity.

And where to acquire it than your very own room.

So here I am, taking my time on doing my necktie. Making sure it looks neat and presentable for tonight's mating ball when, all of a sudden, a small voice interrupted me.

I knew who it was, the minute the little wolf entered my chamber, for her scent — composing of lemon and mint — immediately filled the room. 

Not to mention, her voice.

I recognize that voice anywhere, for there are no other seven-year-olds in the region that possesses an alpha tone, except her.

“Yes, Blessy?” I respond to my sister's little cry, eyes still focused on the nearly done knot.

There was no reply from her after that, making me assume that she already left. Though, instead of hearing a door closing, I surprisingly caught the sound of her soft footsteps walking towards me. Then, like a ray of sunshine, I felt the little she-wolf's warm presence behind me. 

Almost, immediately, a smile found its way to my face.

“Oh, busy.” She quickly muttered at my back, discovering that I was a bit occupied at the moment.

My smile widened.

Regardless of her warm existence, what really lightened up my dark mood was the aura my sister brought with her; the innocence of a child and the purity of a soul, which so happens to be the same as my late mate, Nala.

My Nalaese Marie Snow…

The reminder, rather of infuriating me like the last time, made me calm. And my once frustrated face was now beaming with pure peace.

“In a minute little one, I'm almost done,” I stated, and was about to do the last loop when I caught a glimpse of her dirty reflection on the full-length mirror I was using. 

Oh dear lord.

I quickly turned to face her, hoping my eyes were deceiving me. But once my gaze landed on the little girl, fully registering her appearance, I was utterly stunned to see how terrible-looking she really was. 

Hell no, she did not…

Her supposed to be cute little princess gown — fuchsia in color and full of diamonds — was already brownish on the bottom part, while a couple of dirty handprints at the top. Her blonde hair which was supposed to be tied in a bun we're loosened, leaving her gold tiara hanging on the back of her head.

Though, what gave me the overall impression that she sneaked out of the castle and play unto the forest floor — AGAIN — was her hands and face, all covered with mud. 

“Blessica Allison Joy Cane, what on earth got into you!” I roared, the shock was evident both in my face and voice.

Receiving no response from her, just a few blinks and fingers fidgeting, I swiftly grab her little arm and, as quick as the flash of light — werewolf speed, made her sit on a chair next to the dresser my Nala, once owned. 

Catching a glimpse of that wardrobe, my anger instantly halted. Then, as obvious as it was now, I got momentarily distracted. 

I know I should have thrown that out, or any stuff that belonged to my mate, but I can't. Not because I'm being too sentimental, but because it's one of those things that keeps me from going completely mad, or worse, seek solace again to BLOODLUST.

My ultimate cure, for three whole years...

As amazing as it would have been, to let myself be an animal — carefree and wild — for one day, though the danger that it would bring was much higher compared to the comfort that I aim to fulfill.

again… I had caused enough damage to everybody

it — every belonging she owned — here,

a softer tone now, spoke up

out of my sudden stupor, making me shift my gaze from

innocently asked while opening her mud-covered arms

about my predicament, and as caring as she was, she

you get when you have a

I only frowned at her.

surely be upset with her for

mud as you wish, especially

dreadful that I almost forgot that I'm speaking to a

hurt our sister. Mika

his warning and

echoed delicately inside my ears, which was also helping on calming

voice goes, I caught a glimpse of her face. Peculiarly, it lacks FEAR, and as much as I don't appreciate what I sound like earlier,

However, she's not.

looked pretty relaxed for a seven-year-old child being lectured at by

my attention, which bothered me instantly, was her tiger brown eyes. They look very much dead and cold —

she's looking THROUGH me

I froze.

that's what you're guessing. I was just overwhelmed because I saw a hint of pure sadness in that gaze of her. A longing that I seem to understand, for I have it too — not just in my eyes but also

it's not just me who's still in grief…

what I was supposed to be doing when I

apologizing when she doesn't even mean it, or

is not

the fact that Bear was right; that it was not as genuine as it

you in the end, sweetie. Especially, once you get to a point where you apologize for real for your mistakes, and people already knew what you are capable of. Lying is not a game Blessy, so quit it while you can.”

and then, realizing that I

smile at me — her dimples showing on

Woah.

to the warriors I have trained in the field. Others would have bowed their head at me

at me. Looking like she didn't even commit

parted

my liking.’ Bear pointed out, sounding almost

smile at me like that at this point.

of my mind, saying, ‘Or distract you from her troubles. She knows she's

shock after hearing that and internally lifted a challenging

needs someone to

stilled, his ears

Touche'...’ Bear said, slowly retrieving to

I could only smirk.

front of me. She's still smiling her dimpled smile at

reaction… too bad, I'm too amused to be even mad at

her, in both entertainment

I finally declared in a

that as if I just compliment her. Though, I didn't miss the fact

Now, that's strange.

she always

to ask or what simple words to say to a seven-year-old, especially when the subject involves serious themes, I could

do something, decided to scramble towards the bathroom to get a wet towel to wipe her. Lastly, kneeling in front of her, I started cleaning her up; face first

silent after, leaving me to wonder what was on her mind at the

and be down and dirty. But having her keep on doing it every now and then, for the majority of her life, sounds so bizarre — kinda like OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) already, if I

real question here is,

that she happened to have

just the idea of being grounded for another week in your room? Werewolves your age don't exactly like confinement Blessy, yet here you are, kept on going back to

showed that same dimpled