Three days later, the group finally arrived at the gate to the small human village. The entrance was barred, the gate locked securely in place. Above, few villagers stood watch on the high walls, their faces pinched with suspicion as they gazed down at the group.
However, it was the werewolves stationed atop the walls who truly commanded their attention. Most of them sported long, loosely braided hair, paired with flowing beards that frad their rugged faces.
So had tied their locks into loose buns with scanty braids, while others let their hair cascade down, adorned with a few strategically placed braids, adding a touch of wildness to their appearance.
The hairstyles perfectly complented their rugged features, coupled with their foreign outfits - animal hinds worn as cloaks over bare chests, further amplifying their edgy, battle-hardened looks.
Those n’s unholy eyes bore into them with bloodlust, sending chills down the group’s spines.
Their appearance, hairstyles, and outfit scread one na;
"Dark Snow Pack," Reana mumbled under her breath, shuddering slightly as the vision of them destroying her pack soared through her mind once again.
Reana genuinely wished not to have anything to do with the Dark Snow Pack, people who were rumored to worship their Alpha, instead of the moon goddess. People who were said to have a beef with the goddess, but unfortunately, the situation didn’t allow that.
She couldn’t help wondering why the moon goddess still blessed them despite their transgression, yet threw her devotees into a situation where they had to seek help from her enemies.
anwhile, on the high walls, the Dark Snow Pack mbers were stunned at the sight of their Alpha sitting on a horse beside a woman.
The Alpha dyed his red hair black, he’d reduced the length of his hair, his beard, and had also undone his braids, a thing that went against their pack’s ancient traditions.
His rugged, battle-hardened appearance had been curdely tempered, and for a mont, the pack mbers wondered if they were truly looking at their feared leader, or an imposter.
They frowned. The re thought of soone else looking like their Alpha Snow was an insult and such a person deserved to die, simply for existing.
Their Alpha had left the Southern islands with Gamma Marcus three years ago and to this day, had not returned. They weren’t worried that he may have t his demise, for they would have sensed it through their bonds, and also, their life-lamps were still flaming brightly in the temple.
Everyone blue-blooded mber of the Dark Snow Pack had a life-lamp. If any of them died, the lamp would extinguish itself, a solemn signal to the pack that one of their own had fallen. So, they strongly believe their Alpha was still alive.
The warriors were confused the more they stared at Ryder. They wanted to believe this wasn’t their Alpha, but at the sa ti, were reluctant to accept that he had a look-like.
And worst still, Gamma Marcus wasn’t with them, otherwise, they’d have concluded his identity imdiately.
The warriors were afraid of accidentally offending their Alpha, if it was him, and also afraid of giving reverence to a look-like. It would be blasphemous.
"Get Zeta Detroit," one of the warriors said to another, his voice so deep that it could scare a child to tears.
The addressed warrior departed and returned shortly with a hulking figure. His thick, blonde hair and beard were braided with tiny bones and feathers, a testant to his many battles and conquests.
Zeta Detroit’s piercing blue eyes pierced down at Ryder as he opened his mindlink, trying to mindlink him, but t a deafening silence on the other end.
However, the Zeta didn’t pass his judgent so soon. His Alpha was known to shut people out of his mind sotis. "Open the gates," he ordered. His raspy voice sounded scrappy, like sandpaper, but it carried the weight of authority.
The warrior closest to him nodded and mindlinked those at the gate.
anwhile, Reana and her group had been watching the exchange with bated breath. As the gates creaked open, Ryder nudged his horse forward, his eyes fixed on Zeta Detroit. Reana followed closely behind, her senses on high alert, unsure of what to expect from the notoriously fierce Dark Snow Pack.
As the group entered, the huge double iron gate was shut behind them with a disturbing creaking sound, causing their hair to stand on end.
The Dark Snow Pack warriors inside the gate regarded them with hostile looks, which almost made Mirian, who was at the rear, fall off her horse. Her grip on the reins was so tight that her knuckles strained against her pale skin as she struggled to maintain control.
Her horse, sensing her tension, snorted and danced sideways, its eyes rolling wildly as it neighed with agitation, as if rebelling against its rider’s fear.
The horse’s reaction sent Mirian’s anxiety spiraling out of control. Her heart pounded in her chest, as her claws unconsciously elongated and dug into the horse’s back for stability.
Before she could regain her composure, her vision blurred as the horse let out a loud, panicked neigh. It reared up, lifting its front legs off the ground, and Mirian felt herself flying backward, thrown off the horse’s back.
"AHHH!" A panic-stricken scream tore through her throat, halting her companions in their tracks. But there was nothing she could do as she braced herself for the excruciating pain of hitting the ground.
Ti seed to slow, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. But it never ca. Instead, she felt herself enveloped in a wall of strong muscles, her fall broken by a solid, unyielding presence.
Her eyes snapped open to et a pair of brooding blue eyes, their depths seeming to hold a thousand unspoken words. The person’s braided hair, adorned with tiny bones and feathers, caressed her face. Surprisingly, he slt nice - a warm, earthy scent that seed to wrap around her, calming her frazzled nerves.
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