Alphas burden

1AVERY

This is pushing it. I know it, yet I couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity.

Sneaking off packlands is enough of a risk without notifying anyone. Doing it to go to the human town nestled in the foothills at the base of Silver Mountain alone is worse.

Leaving the territory this close to a pack run?

I’m basically asking for our strict alpha to serve me with months of punishment for defying his rules—rules that hardly apply to me. As someone considered Wolfless, I can’t shift and never will. I’m a shifter who has no wolf. My wild instincts are more muted, far easier to control with tonight’s impending full moon.

Compared to the rest of my pack, I’m practically human. My strength, stamina, and senses are hardly better than a strong human male.

It’s not like Alpha Blackburn keeps us from leaving the mountain at all. Anyone from Silver Falls Pack is allowed to visit Ashbury on designated days with supervision. Except those only come once every few months and I’m not likely to have his permission, so that doesn’t work for me.

This is how I’ve adapted to survive.

As long as I’m not caught, it’s fine. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I have no regrets because sneaking in and out is part of how I make it in a pack of shifters that hate my entire family.

My routine is ironclad—wait for the gap in the scout patrols, leave from the old sloping trail that’s overlooked because of overgrowth, and always stop at the first stream in the foothills to wash off any lingering scent of being around humans before I even step foot on Silver Mountain to return home.

No one ever notices when I’m gone, anyway.

Pausing to lean between the roots of a moss-covered tree, I check the worn leather pack slung across my body for the third time. The corner of my mouth lifts with pride.

Though I lack the blessing of a wolf from the moon goddess, putting me at a huge disadvantage when it comes to things like hunting, I’m still able to provide for my sisters and myself through trading with the people in Ashbury.

The town is small and every year it seems there are less humans around or something new is in disrepair. The younger ones are always talking about getting out, moving to cities.

The residents gladly part with their goods whenever I bring my collection of flora that are difficult for them to obtain from the unforgiving terrain. I don’t have money to pay them otherwise. They’ve grown to rely on me as much as I have in return because the mountain range and river blocks Ashbury off from the accessibility granted to larger, more progressive towns like Davenport or Hillford.

The baker gives enough bread to last us two months for the assortment of mushrooms and wild nuts I find for her. The butcher inside the tiny grocery store has a long-standing arrangement with me. I bring him the rudimentary oils I make from mountain ginger and willow bark to help with the ache in his hands throughout winter better than the medicines his doctors prescribe. In exchange, I get my pick of seconds cuts, hard cheeses, and the candies he always throws in for my sisters.

I scored big for today’s bounty. It isn’t like those usual exchanges. When I snuck into town last week, I heard there’d be a market passing through. I had to make a second trip today for the chance to get rarer things I don’t usually have access to in Ashbury.

I rely on the supplies I’m able to barter from anyone outside, because if I counted on my own pack, we’d be dead by now. The measly allotment of meat distributed weekly by the kitchens is hardly enough to sustain the three of us. I learned that within days of being forced out of our family home at the heart of the pack. After our father’s transgression led to his death by the alpha’s hand, we had to move to the crumbling cottage we live in.

With the coil of wire I secured today, I should be able to finally splice the feeble electricity from an outbuilding near the cottage to run a line to the ice box in the back that’s been dead for years. If I can get it ru

I check the contents of my satchel are secure before spotting a lucky find this late in the season twining along a vine climbing the thick tree root. I slip a pair of garden shears I stole from the deep pockets of my green, knee-length coverall dress and brush back strands of light brown hair dangling over my shoulder.

Despite the chill in the air, a shifter’s body temperature always runs warmer. I’m comfortable enough in the dress and short-sleeved shirt beneath.

Crouching down, I admire the tall, bristly appearance of the purple flower shoots blooming on the liatris plant. I have some left from the ones I’ve picked throughout the summer, but I can always use more to help with my youngest sister Lena’s sore throats in the colder months. Once it’s cut, I tie it so it dangles upside-down from the side of my bag as I continue picking my way through the woods.

It’s not much further to the border designating pack territory. There was a time when I could come and go as I pleased rather than sneaking around like this, same as anyone else in the pack. I’d leave the mountain to visit other packs, like my aunt in Timber Hollow Pack, especially after she became the only other family I have besides my sisters. The freedom only lasted through the last couple of years of the previous alpha’s reign, before his son took over as the current alpha. Since then, rules in the pack have grown stricter.

I’m nearly back, undetected as always. It’s lucky the usual patrol schedule isn’t something I have to worry about today, so it’s easy to cross the pack border without worrying about evading someone like Liam Je

A twig snaps. I stifle a gasp, ducking into a circle of bushes to blend in with my surroundings. Straining my ears, I sag in relief when it’s not anyone from Silver Falls, only a deer. I watch it nose at the ground. It lifts its head, ears perked, swiveling in my direction, then behind it. Once it moves on, I linger for another moment, enjoying the sound of the trees rustling.

This is my happy place. Well, this has become my happy place that I’ve discovered for myself. Being in nature, not living in this pack.

That happiness was shredded beyond recognition seven years ago when I was sixteen. The day my life changed forever, going from a prominent and respected family in the pack to the scorned outcast at the bottom of the ranks overnight. My sisters and I are the only ones left bearing the disgraced Morgan name.

I clear the heavy memory of that dark day with a shake of my head and step over the boundary. It’s strange how old magic works. The wards for the pack’s border were set long ago, when shifters and witches weren’t at odds. The invisible threads of magic woven to protect us recognize my blood as a shifter, welcoming me home. If humans hike this far up the mountain—an uncommon feat, but one that’s happened a time or two—the magic deters them, sending them in another direction.

It was designed for a time in the distant past when humans had no idea they weren’t alone in this world amongst countless beings, each with our own unique set of powers and abilities. Shifters, witches, vampires, and the like have all left the shadows to mingle openly with humans. It’s no longer necessary to hide after humans discovered supernaturals weren’t figments of their imaginations from storybooks around forty years ago.

I huff at the irony that we still use the wards so we always have the safety of our dens to return to, as if we’re still hiding our bones away like the beasts we descend from.

An inviting scent of spicy cedar tickles my nose as I reach the narrow path that co

I halt, realizing the mistake too late. It’s not the freshly chopped wood for tonight’s bonfire. There’s a male with a massive muscular build ahead. The smell of the forest is coming from him.

It’s all too familiar, tugging harshly on my heartstrings.

Every part of me seizes, my breath catching in my throat and my body rigid. I duck my head, gripping the leather strap so tight the aged leather might disintegrate.

I know the imposing, powerful shifter striding towards me, blocking my path back to the dilapidated remains of a cabin I call home.

Caden Blackburn. He’s Alpha Blackburn to me now.