Kerosene and a Fistful of Matches

The male heard the howl and his ears flicked back almost immediately. He felt his stomach churn, knowing full well the type of howl that was ringing in his ears. He felt a flood of emotions all at once. Anger. Hurt. He closed his ghostly white eyes, cursing under his tongue. The brute could only think of his family, what was left of it… Roza and Ulric… could they suffer some sort of horrid fate if he fought and lost. What of the rest of the pack? He could feel his head swimming, the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. For a few moments he was frozen, afraid of failure before all had even begun.

He thought of his members too…  Caelum and Zephyr had just had a child. He growled under his breath. He wanted to tell them to run… to get away from Dragoste while he saw to this threat. But where could they go for safety? Ganta felt his stomach churning. He turned towards the den with Roza and his son for a moment, his heart racing in his chest. He wanted them to get away… all of his pack to get away. He didn’t want them to see this… for better or worse.

‘Why the doubt now, Ganta-boy?’ He asked himself. He took a deep, stabilizing breath and then started towards the borders to see what was going on. But with a tone touched with aggressiveness… he doubted it would be anything pleasant.

...and great Gods what he saw…there behemoths were standing at the borders of Dragoste. He flicked his ears back and narrowed his eyes, his body tensing. Either the Gods were punishing him… or fate was truly a cruel mistress. Either way… He did not like like the look of where this was going. It wasn’t just the wolves either… but their companions that had Ganta on edge. ‘Don’t do anything stupid…’ The young man thought, walking towards them. He tried to steel himself as best he could, keeping a brave face as he analyzed each of these wolves in turn.

Finally Ganta stopped, a good three body lengths of the behemoths before him and them. He lifted his head to meet the blue gaze of the darkest one. His tail arched over his back, jaws parting. But no growl came forth, no threats to leave this land. Already he could see Dragoste would be in trouble should these wolves decide to fight them. The only one remotely close to their dizzying size was his son and Ganta would be damned if he dared let them lay a paw on him.

“You stand at the borders of Dragoste,” He said dryly. “I’m the one you want. State your business.” There were no formalities, no pleasantries. Ganta would cut straight to business as well. He felt threatened by these wolves not just by their tone but their size. What would his father had done if these types of wolves showed up at his borders…?

Fight.

The single word came to Ganta’s mind as his ghostly white orbs flashed. He knew that Sin would fight to the death for his pack. But could he afford to do that? If he died… what would happen to his family? Would they ever reunite with Philomena? Would his friends, his packmates, all become slaves? No, he thought, he was getting ahead of himself. See what they wanted first. Maybe… maybe this was all a misunderstanding and they wanted a friendly chat...