Chapter 9 Eight

BLAKE:

His mother was a good woman. She was an excellent woman, even if he was going by history and deeds. But, today, he had to remind himself over and over, like there was a broken record stuck in his head. He had to remind himself of something he'd always thought would be at the forefront of his mind.

His mother was a good woman. He chanted it over and over and over, yet again, in his head.

She'd been a good Luna to the wolves of the Velvet moon pack, a good wife to his father and a good mother to him. When his father died, she stood by him and cared for him, despite nursing a heartbreak of her own. He had to remind himself that she wanted only the best for both of them and their pack...

He was walking now, but he didn't know where he was going. Was he going towards the Beta's house? Was he going towards the farming area? Or the river at the foothill to talk to the moon goddess again? He wasn't sure. He didn't know.

He had no plans, no direction whatsoever at the moment. All he knew was that he had to get away, far, far away from his house and from his responsibility and just generally somewhere other than where he was a few minutes ago. Because he was so sure that if he heard some remind him of what he had to do, he was going to snap. And he wasn't one to snap. He wasn't one to lose his cool. And even though everyone respected him as their calm and collected alpha, he'd always nursed this deep fear that one day, he may as well just snap and go rogue, tainted, dark. It was one of his worst nightmares.

By the time he stopped walking, he realized he had come close to the edge of the border. And as he turned around, wondering what further could distract him as he was not ready to turn back towards the path that led to his house, he realized he was close to the training ground for newly turned wolves.

Smiling subconsciously, as the place was filled with so many of his childhood memories with his father, he made his way towards the area, hoping to blow off much needed steam by watching the young ones train.

He passed the usual place he passed when he would sneak off to the training ground to watch his father when he wasn't old enough to start training. The path was etched in his mind, so fresh it was almost like a second skin. And as he trod on the path, he remembered his father.

He remembered how he would take him hunting in these trees, looking for animals they would hand over to his mom who would hand it over to the cooks in turn.

He remembered when he was much smaller, how his father would carry him on a piggyback ride around the pack, much to his glee.

He missed the old man. So much. So, so much it hurt.

When he reached the edge of the line of trees, he came across two females sitting on the grass. They were so silent he didn't notice them until he was a few meters close.

He studied them until it clicked. It was Meredith and the new wolf, poison Ivy.

"Ladies, what are you doing out here?"

He startled them. They both turned at once as recognition slowly burst out on their faces. Meredith scrambled to her feet, flustered, while Ivy stayed just as she was, lying on the grass.

"Alpha Blake," Meredith said, bending demurely.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Women mostly weren't interested in training together with the guys in the training ground and even if they'd come to train, Meredith was already a very good fighter and she'd not volunteered to teach in a long time.

"Are you finally volunteering to teach again? Did Ian eventually convince you?"

"What? No, no. I came to accompany her to get some learning done. She wasn't able to attend the last hunt due to the fact that she can't control her turning."

Ivy visibly groaned, hitting Meredith on the knees. "Ouch."

"Are you going to tell everyone we meet that I can't do that?"

"He's the alpha. He deserves to know."

Ivy rolled her eyes and Blake hid a smile at their banter. He knew about Ivy's absence at the last hunt. He already knew all about her reason. She was his own personal care to handle.

He said, "So, if you came to accompany her to learn, shouldn't you be inside?"

"She felt sick, so I accompanied her, yet again, to get some air."

"I didn't know you accompanied people a lot." He laughed at his joke. When he realized they hadn't found it funny, too, he cleared his throat and faced Ivy.

"Meredith, don't worry, I'll take it from here." He held out his hands towards Ivy and said, "Come with me."

She stared at his hands for a long time and he was tempted to retrieve it. But, after much contemplation with the way her brows squeezed, she put her palms in his and for a moment, they stared at each other. Clearing his throat, Blake gently tugged her to her feet and allowed her to dust off leaves from her cloth before he took her hand in his again and pulled her gently towards the direction of the training area.

Some of the wolves had moved outside to work on their transformation skills. He greeted them, noticing the way they looked pointedly at his hands entwined with hers. They would probably gossip, but her hands were so soft and they fit his perfectly, that even when she tugged at him softly, a sign to let it go that she could walk on her own, he squeezed tighter, giving her a pointed look.

"Hold on, Poison Ivy. Don't worry."

She nodded and looked straight ahead. He watched the way her chin jutted higher and felt the way she squeezed his hands back.

He gulped. Beneath her unreadable persona, there was a fire that was slowly fighting towards the surface, like the day he'd rescued her. And, goodness, her wolf had smelled so beautiful and he was sure it was beautiful, too. Why, then, was she shy? Why was she running from training and molding into the pack?

Maybe it's past trauma, he decided. He'd ask her about her past one day. But, today, he'd try his best to make her feel safe enough to learn how to navigate the velvet moon pack and belong.

They entered the main side and as a way to help her ease into the training, or at least try to help her ease into it, he began to hit the punching bag. Then he paused, swung the other one in her direction which she dodged quite impressively and said, "Come on, woman, hit something, don't just stare."

She rolled her eyes and began to throw light hits on the punching bag.

In a few minutes, they changed the training routine. Blake had told her to attack him. He told her to gather the feeling of anger, let it burn inside her like a furnace and attack. He watched the way her eyes darkened. They were glassy, like all she could see was a memory and moment that had nothing to do with the training ground.

"Do you feel it?"

She looked confused, but she said, "Yes."

"Good." He cracked his neck. The look in his own eyes darkened. He said, "Just don't shift."

Controlling her shifting had to start with controlling her emotions.

Then he attacked first, despite what he had asked for at first. He hadn't given the go ahead yet. Blake approached and landed a hit at the side of her neck. Ivy yelped in pain and held the area. He was fast. She was too. He could see the anger trying to take over.

Ivy shot out a fist. Blake caught and twisted it. She spun out of his hold. She swiped her leg over, aiming for his head. Blake dunked and aimed for her side. His hand connected with a rib and he heard the crack.

She staggered. Anger blazed in her eyes. He saw that she had not shifted yet and was impressed by the level of control she was showing. Ivy came at him again.

This time, Black caged her wrists at her back. He whispered in her ear. "Do you feel it?"

His hot breath rolled off the skin of her neck. He heard Ivy release a sigh. He imagined her lips parting. His questions felt cornered by the moment they were in. Blake breathed in her scent. It was an action he couldn't avoid. It was intoxicating.

"Yes," she had said, breathless.

He let her go only then. Ivy turned to him. Confusion lived in her eyes again. He could only smile tightly and return back to the punching bags.

He said, "You're a pro with shifting. I'm impressed."

He took the first hits at the bag, channeling his frustration. She joined in and the tension let up. They ended up making small talk and avoiding the past moment like a plague.

By the time they were done, he didn't care that people were staring, he was so happy that he gotta see her smile. He had said something and Ivy had smiled so brightly and beautifully.

"You should smile more often."

"I shouldn't, really. The less I do, the more important it is when I do."

She had a point and he was accepting someone else's point for the first time that day after the talk with his mother.

***

He didn't go home. He didn't go close to his home, no. He stayed at the warehouse styled training ground until every last werewolf left for their various homes.

He sat on the grass, looking up at the moonless sky. His wolf kept him content and the wind caressed him. He was the alpha, there was nothing to be scared of in his pack.

There were nights like this when he became in tune with nature. On nights like this, he remembered his father. They would go out at night and watch the sky and every full moon when they turned, they would turn together and roam the forest in search of food.

Suddenly restless from sitting too long at a spot, he decided to wander further, past the trees, and see how the guards at the border were working. He made it past the line of trees, careful not to attract attention to him. He watched the night shift guards as they talked and moved further away from them to the denser part with far more trees.

In the darkness, even though his bones ached a little, he was still unwilling to return to his home and even if he eventually did, he was unwilling to do it anytime soon. Just as he was about to go back through the same path he'd come from, he saw something. A shadow.

Standing still, squinting now, he could make out the hazy shadow of someone sneaking past the border guards as they discussed. The person was so skillful he almost dismissed it and turned. It had happened within a sharp second. It nagged him. Then, as he blinked, the shadow was gone.

He shook his head. He was imagining things. It couldn't have been real.

Blake thought he needed some sleep, that was why. His bones froze. Regardless of his wolf, he could feel the cold. There and then, he decided to go back home where he wouldn't be seeing things. He could only hope he had been seeing things.