The weeks that followed the death of his dearest—and likely only—friend had whirled right on by, lacking the touch of anything worth noting. Alexander had taken his leave from the coastal pack in silence, then began his journey of aimless wandering. His mind buzzed with thoughts that revolved around various different topics, unable to focus on any one thing in particular. Some mornings, before the sun had risen, the boy had stopped and considered seeking out the woods in order to deliver the news, only to be stopped each and every time by his own inability to accept reality. A part of him wanted to continue on living with the belief that the body he’d seen hadn’t actually been Kendra’s, but the other part of him never allowed for the notion to fully settle within his mind. She was dead, she wasn’t coming back this time, and that was something that he’d need to either live with or lay himself down somewhere and wait for death the claim him, too.

Far from the coast, his surroundings grew more familiar with each step he took, yet his conscious mind refused to recognise the similarities. Even after entering the glade, after catching a whiff of someone he could never forget, he remained just the same: dull and nearly lifeless, moving but lacking a destination. And so onward the albino went, continuing unknowingly in the direction of the very wolf whose existence had troubled his own so terribly.

Although his attention remained unfocused, the sound of approaching footfalls could not be ignored. Something—call it a sixth sense, or whatever else one might like to—nagged at him, insisting he focus his gaze on that which was approaching. The feeling was one that he, initially, sought to ignore, but was quick to discover that he could not—this, he realised, turned out to be a good thing. For the approaching figure was familiar to him, once being associated with positive memories, only to now be viewed as the epitome of misery and all things nightmarish. His face alone made the albino stop in his tracks, every muscle in his body growing stiff at once whilst his ears fell flat against his head. Weeks prior, perhaps he would have begun trembling right then and there but, given recent occurrences, currently lacked the energy to do so. Alexander could only stand there, as still as a statue, staring onward in silence.

After the passing of several seconds, Kendra’s face flashed through his mind; he had promised to protect her whilst her heart still beat and had failed but, perhaps, he might be able to do something in the name of her memory. To make the world somewhat safer, both for himself and those like his late love. The thought forced his ears upward and his lips to be pulled back, a snarl filling his previously empty expression.

The words—his taunts—went by unheard. Alexander was deaf to his voice, able to hear nothing more than the beating of his own heart as it thudded against his ribs. His snarl was drawn out, a growl rumbling deep within his chest like the cracking of thunder right before a storm. A part of him, still afraid of what could happen, urged the young Inuk to turn tail and flee—but he couldn’t. Rather, he raised his tail up over his back and pushed his ears forward, lacking the means to be civil and returning to how nature had always intended him to be; feral and uncontrollable. And, without much more thought, the albino lurched forward with his jaws agape and forelimbs extended before him, aiming to sink his teeth into anything and everything that he could.

Though his actions were blindly made, the boy had managed to latch onto some piece of flesh. The second his teeth had sunk into the other male, his grip tightened and he jerked his head in an attempt to tear whatever he could. In his fury, he’d not noticed the retaliation until it was too late to remove himself, leaving him to feel the familiar pain of teeth against his own flesh, slicing right above his eye and leading upwards; the proximity to his eyes was far too close for comfort. Releasing the other from his hold, Alexander’s ears flattened against his crown and he pushed his face downwards, acting with the intention of protecting his optics, leaving the entire top half of his head exposed—much to his dismay.

Whether or not his head might serve as an irresistible target, the boy would still shove himself forward and up, hoping to collide with the other male’s lower jaw. The good memories—the ones that featured Cicero as a teacher, rather than an abuser—were locked away and unable to rise up to the surface, resulting in Xan having nothing to hold him back.

Eventually, he might learn that each battle demanded a clear mind and continuous streams of thought but, until then, he couldn’t help but be fueled by emotions alone. The anger kept him from falling down, exhausted, whilst his pain and grief drove him to attack. It seemed almost as if he simply couldn’t stop, even if he were to suddenly be stricken by the urge to do so. No, he could only continue—and so onward the male went, thoughtless and intent on doing harm.

The warmth of the male’s breath as it neared his crown sent a shiver down Alexander’s spine, insisting that he drive his head forward. Rather than risking the loss of his ears, the Inuk sacrificed his scruff and shoulders as his body was pushed forward and down. Twisting his head around, he made every attempt that was available to him to try and latch onto some section of his opponent’s underside. Meanwhile, exhaustion nagged at him, the days of traveling and stress catching up with him at last.

With his teeth having found a place to latch on to, there was a brief moment where the boy felt as if he might stand a chance at winning—only for the feeling of teeth on his scruff to send him spiraling downward. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, panic setting in despite his fears being impossible, given their stances. No matter, his jaw grew slack, his grip loosening enough for the other to get away as he forced out a muffled, “Let go.” Paranoia outweighed his anger, bringing him back to his senses—partially—long enough for him to realise where he was and the wolf that he was up against.

The added weight on his shoulders left his legs stiff, reluctant to give in. Though, before long, his face was pressed into the dirt and there was a low growl working its way up through his chest, a mixture of emotions filling him. And as the words reached his ears, the negative feelings grew, multiplying nearly tenfold in the span of several seconds. “No,” he insisted through gritted teeth, denying every thought and fear that he’d experienced in the months following his attack. “I never thought of you—not once.” Lying was, in a way, the one thing that might grant him some semblance of control. Not over the situation, but over something—or so was what he tried to tell himself.

With so little distance between them that the other’s breath could be felt fanning out over his skin, involuntary trembles ran through the yearling’s body. He tried to fight it, to hold in his fear and swallow down his nerves, only to fail and leave a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Each word left him struggling more and more to maintain some degree of composure, hardly able to keep himself from breaking apart right then and there. And yet, he kept himself held together, however poorly, the childish, egotistical part of him preventing the Inuk from being so terribly affected that one might think Cicero had won. For that would add on to his disgrace, and possibly push him passed some point of return. So, Alexander held on, allowing but small portions of fear to seep through all of the cracks in his armour.

The final threats rang through his ears, echoing in his mind whilst his ears were laid flat against his head. He could not look at him, nor could he utter even a single word in response. All he could do was lay there, waiting for whatever was to come, and then felt a great deal of relief after being freed. That relief, however, was quickly overshadowed by his inner turmoil. Thus, the moment Cicero’s back had turned, out spewed the male’s earlier meal, followed by a long moment of dry heaving. Anxious and terrified, he scrambled back up to his feet immediately after and turned tail, fleeing in the direction of the valley. So many words lingered on the tip of his tongue, so many insults and threats that he wanted to shout, but for now all he could focus on doing was finding somewhere safe to lay low and regroup, for surely their next encounter would not go so smoothly for his attacker.