Alphas Unbounded

by Terra Wolf

  “Are you up for a run?” Deacon asked, tossing his keys up under the wheel bed.

  John snorted softly. “When am I not?”

  The hunting trail cut through the woods from the main drag, a mile of thick brush and rough terrain gouged into the landscape by every manner of animal, and every member of the Fenn and Talbot bear clans. Still, if they could keep pace, this mile would take less than ten minutes, and Deacon was very motivated.

  Deacon sloughed off his jacket, tossing it into the back of John’s truck as he set off, his stride starting slow as he approached the woods.

  “What the hell are you gonna do when you get there?”

  Deacon doubled his pace, calling back to his brother. “I don’t know! Hurry the fuck up!”

  He was off, dodging under tree limbs and bounding over boulders and fallen trees. He knew these trails well, helped form them on nights when he was out for a hunt. Yet, the bear couldn’t make this path as quickly as his human legs could. He felt his breath grow ragged, realizing he’d spent eight full months cooped up in a Boston apartment with no woods or open space to draw him for a run. Still, he pushed through the pain, hearing John catch up behind.

  The woods smelled of every manner of living thing, frozen moss and cracked acorns under foot, rotting pine needles gathered across the path. He breathed deep, fighting to keep his pace as the path sloped upward – they were getting close.

  John caught up on him as he fought with the burning in his legs to scale the massive hill. This part of the path was jagged and worn into the rock face. Deacon fought to steady his footing as he reached the steepest part. The smell hit him like a wave as they reached the top of the hill, looking down to the clearing along the shore – the smell of beast, and blood, and spit, and fear; the smell of battle. Deacon lunged forward without thinking, losing his footing and sliding halfway down the slope. He felt a searing pain across his backside as he landed, skidding down the worn path, pine needles kicking up into his pant leg as he fell. He didn’t care. It might hurt like hell, but it was speeding him up.

  “Hang on!” John called from behind, but Deacon was unwilling. The smell grew stronger with each step, finally giving way to sound. There were angry snarls up ahead, roaring interspersed with whimpers and cries. Finally he heard a familiar sound, and as he burst from the tree line to see the battle up ahead, his heart nearly broke.

  “Please! Papa!”

  Deacon stopped at the edge of the clearing, the waves crashing against the rocky coast beyond as two massive bears loomed over a third. Maggie stood off to the side, sobbing and screaming in protest as the two younger bears took their advantage, teaming up to kill the older one. Just beyond them, Richard White Eagle stood with his arms crossed, watching as though he attended a football game, and his team was winning. Deacon’s eyes went wide at the sight.

  “Get off him!” He screamed, grabbing up a stick and lunging forward, swinging it into the muzzles of the two younger bears. Their fur was dark around their mouths, frothing with pink and coated in blood. The older bear, the white fur around his muzzle stained from a wound on his face, was fighting just to stay upright. Despite the beaten look of the older bear, the two younger bears were not unscathed. He’d done some damage.

  Maggie sobbed, seemingly afraid to step forward.

  Deacon’s fury was uncontainable. “You fucks! You dishonorable fucks!”

  “Do not involve yourself, white man! This is none of your concern,” Richard White Eagle called, hollering to be heard over the sound of the sea.

  John appeared at the tree line, coming to join his brother as Deacon moved to stand between the two younger bears and the older wounded one.

  “You stand by and allow two to fight one? You disgust me. That is not how Kalmud is fought!”

  Richard White Eagle lunged forward, pointing a finger in Deacon’s face. “Tell me again how you know our ways better than I.”

  “You fucking coward,” Deacon whispered, leaning in to Richard until the man’s finger nearly touched Deacon’s face.

  “Stop! Please!” Maggie cried, lunging forward to pull Deacon back. “Please! You said, you’d not kill him. Please stop now. You’ve won.”

  She dropped to her father’s side, running her hands through his matted fur. She looked pained, struggling with the bear’s weight as he began to slump to the side. “No, Papa! NO!”

  The old bear fell with a grunt, his body collapsing into the dirt.

  Richard straightened, his expression growing strangely solemn. Maggie became inconsolable, instantly.

  The two younger bears bared their teeth, their stances changing as they moved forward.

  “I am sorry, brother,” Richard said, and his tone was hauntingly calm.

  “No!” Maggie screamed again. “He is old! He hasn’t fallen. Let him live, please!”

  Richard began to unbutton his shirt as Maggie wailed even louder, trying to pull her father away from them.

  Richard simply shook his head. “It is the cost of falling, Light Foot. Any bear who falls in Kalmud knows the consequences.”

  Deacon’s mouth fell open. They were going to kill Maynard. Two against one and the man’s punishment for falling in the fight was to be killed. Deacon had heard tales of how Kalmud was fought, but he believed these practices to be of another time. Yet, as Richard unbuttoned his jeans, undressing in preparation of a shift, Deacon knew full well what the man intended.

  “Your father chose to fight for you. He knew the price.”

  Deacon tore the buttons of his EMT uniform open, shrugging the sleeves down his arms as Maggie’s sobs changed.

  She whispered behind him in pain. “No. No Deacon, you can’t.”

  Deacon ignored her, tossing his shirt to the ground. Richard’s brow furrowed as he watched. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Deacon was unbuckling his belt when he responded. “You’ve no honor. If you attempt to harm this bear further, you will have a war on your hands.”

  Maggie’s breath shook deep in her chest as she tried to protest.

  “This is not your fight!” Richard bellowed.

  Deacon was stripped now, standing in the frigid air, feeling the sea spray fleck across his bare skin. He couldn’t feel the cold; his blood was boiling.

  Deacon glared Richard down. “You allowed two to take on this man at once. Now you plan to execute him while he is weak? You want the kill? Come through me.”

  John appeared at Deacon’s shoulder, pulling his t-shirt up over his head as he squared his shoulders. The two younger bears’ demeanor was changing. However confident they’d been fighting the old man a moment before, they were having second thoughts now, inching away as Richard’s temper blazed.

  “I will know the taste of your blood, son.”

  In an instant, Richard White Eagle shifted, lunging forward as Deacon braced for impact. Richard barreled into him in full bear, knocking him back as Deacon shifted as well, his fur covered back absorbing the brunt of his fall. Richard loomed over him, jaws wide and incoming just as a massive shape heaved into Richard’s shoulder, knocking him aside – John. John and Deacon weren’t like the other bears of Blackrock. They’d inherited the Allen blood. When they turned, they turned grizzly. Richard’s sons visibly faltered as Deacon rose to his hind legs and roared in Richard’s face.

  Richard swatted Deacon’s muzzle, knocking him just enough to distract, and the two younger bears lunged forward, each challenging one of the Fenn brothers. Despite the Talbot bears being smaller, they more than made up for it in tenacity. Deacon felt teeth sink into his shoulder as the black bear jumped onto him. Deacon shook the massive creature off, slamming his paws into the bear’s chest, pinning him down. Just as he was roaring in the smaller bear’s face, a black blur shot past him. Deacon turned just in time to see Richard White Eagle’s bear rush toward Maggie and her father, ready to tear his teeth into Maynard’s throat. Deacon barreled over the fallen bear toward Richard, heaving every ounce of his weight into Ric
hard’s side. It managed to knock him aside, but not over.

  Richard turned on him, teeth bared and a roar to shake his bones shattering the quiet of the shoreline. Deacon braced as Richard attacked him, knocking him onto his back and pinning him there. Richard White Eagle may have been smaller, but he was by no means weak. Deacon’s heart raced as he fought to push the bear off, baring his teeth and kicking his paws up, but Richard was solid as stone. A miserable sound echoed from further down the shore, Deacon glanced over just in time to see the two smaller bears attacking John in tandem.

  John! He thought.

  Deacon swatted Richard in the face, then strained toward him, his canines making contact with Richard’s muzzle as he fought to bite his opponent. Richard shook off the bite, slammed his paws into Deacon’s chest, and lunged in, his teeth clamping into Deacon’s shoulder.

  The pain was blinding, shooting down his left side as his skin tore in the bear’s teeth. Oh my god, I’m going to die here, he thought.

  A snarl splintered through the air and Richard stumbled, his paws moving from Deacon’s chest. Deacon watched as Richard shook his head wildly, his whole body shuddering in response to some strange shape on his back. The shape snarled again, clamping onto Richard like a barnacle on a ship, refusing to be dislodged as it sank its claws and teeth into Richard again and again. The two younger bears were retreating, watching their father stumble as John managed to get to his feet. Richard growled and faltered, rolling onto his back to loose his attacker. The golden shape, all lithe and long and quick, recoiled, bracing for Richard, every muscle in its body rippling in wait of a signal.

  A mountain lion.

  Deacon backed away, the tension and fear of every bear was as present as the sea spray that floated in the air.

  Richard moved just enough to betray purpose, and the lion surged forward with such speed as to draw a whimper from Richard as its claws ripped across his face. John and Deacon were up now, wary of their new companion, but squaring themselves to return to the fight. Richard recoiled, grunting to his sons who also backed away. As Deacon watched, the three black bears retreated toward the tree line, watching the lion warily as it seethed and growled in a constant warning purr, the sound of it vibrating the very air.

  Richard and his sons turned into the woods and were gone, their heavy movements shaking the trees as they fled.

  Deacon waited another moment to be sure the Talbots had gone, then turned with trepidation. Where had this animal come from?

  Deacon caught sight of a wounded shape out of the corner of his eyes – Maynard had returned to human form, and he was not well. Deacon took a breath, fighting to stay as still as possible as the lion turned on him, watching him with wide, fixed eyes. Deacon took a deep breath, letting the bear recede from the surface, his skin growing cool against the sea air as the fur disappeared. He stayed crouched down, holding out a hand in subjugation to the feral thing. Then he moved slowly, creeping toward Maynard as the cat watched him. John had wisely backed away, still a bear, slumped down right at the rocky shoreline.

  Deacon touched a hand to Maynard’s shoulder, feeling the old man shake under his touch.

  “Maynard, can you talk to me, pal?” Deacon asked, never taking his eyes from the cat. Mountain lions had all but gone extinct in the Northeast, but he remembered one rule of encountering such a beast – never look away.

  Maynard shuddered, but did not speak.

  Deacon squeezed his shoulder again. “Maynard. I need you to make a sound, let me know you can hear me.”

  Maynard groaned, softly. The cat’s attention was instantly drawn to the wounded man. The feral growl stopped and the hair on its back softened. Then Deacon watched in complete awe as the golden creature stretched out, the tawny fur giving way to warm, tan skin. Deacon’s mouth fell open as Maggie met his gaze with human eyes again, tears streaming down her face.

  The word came in barely a whisper. “Maggie?”

  Her expression contorted in grief. She shot a sad glance toward her father, then met Deacon’s gaze once more before turning and running into the woods.

  “Holy shit,” was all Deacon could manage to say.

  “Holy shit? Your girlfriend’s a fucking lion?!” John said, his tone that of an excited teenage boy seeing the new Star Wars trailer for the first time. “Are you fucking kidding me? Gramps is gonna be fucking pissed!”

  Deacon turned his full attention to Maynard, assessing the severity of his wounds. His mind was racing. What he’d seen was impossible, wasn’t it? He fought to focus, pull his mind from Maggie, from her being alone in the woods and upset.

  Oh my god, she was a lion?

  Focus, Deacon. She’ll be alright. Focus.

  “Shut up and get over here, dick! We need to call Lara, now.”

  Maynard was bleeding profusely from a wound on his side, and Deacon couldn’t tell whether the wound on his inner thigh had simply reopened, or was now coupled by new wounds. His chest was torn up, as were his shoulders and face. Still, he was breathing, but only half conscious.

  John scurried across the rocky clearing, snatching his phone from his jeans pocket to call for help.

  Deacon took the phone, scrambling to dial Lara’s number directly. He didn’t have time for 911; he needed to find Maggie.

  “Deacon, where the hell did you go? You didn’t say a word -”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I need you down on the rez. How long do you think you’ll be?”

  Deacon rolled into his house at three in the morning, his skin sticky from salt spray and sweat. He’d traveled with Lara back to the clinic, delivering Maynard Talbot to the care of doctors, fighting to find a way to explain finding Maynard mauled as he was, while also explaining his own wounds. Deacon’s jaw was bleeding, as were the bite marks on his shoulder, and there were claw marks across his chest, pouring down his stomach and into the waistband of his EMT slacks. John and Deacon lied, claiming to have found Maynard in the midst of being attacked, and in stepping in to save him, became the victims of the bear as well.

  Lara didn’t question them beyond a slack jaw and a look of sincere respect. To her, fighting a bear with one’s bare hands was awe-inspiring. Deacon wasn’t sure how she’d feel if she knew the truth.

  Deacon fought with indecision at the clinic, patching himself up in the ambulance as they made their way with John following behind in his truck. Once there, Deacon couldn’t decide whether to stay and wait for Maggie to come for her father or to return to the woods and search for her.

  Was she hurt? Was she well enough to be in public? Deacon remembered his own first shifts, the ones that came after a long break, or the night his grandfather first took him to the woods to be with him when he shifted for the first time.

  Those times were often troubling – rough on the spirit, and it wasn’t always easy to return to the human side.

  Deacon waited only a moment or two at the clinic, then decided. Lara gave her blessing when he left, Deacon letting John drive him back to his car.

  He decided to search for her rather than wait, because there were no bears to hurt her in the fluorescent lit halls of the clinic, but there were in the woods. If she came to the clinic that night, she would be safe. If she was still in the woods, she wouldn’t be.

  As Deacon slipped into the trees again in search of her, he questioned himself.

  How unsafe could she really be? She’s a fucking mountain lion.

  Deacon sent John home to his wife and made his way into the woods. He hunted for her for hours, catching her scent on the peninsula, then losing it again at the main road. He’d made three full passes from one end of that stretch of forest to the other with no luck beyond bleeding through his bandages. The blood at the hem of his jeans was sticky, tearing at the hair just under his navel. He felt dirty and hungry – and useless.

  Perhaps he would go back to the clinic to wait.

  Deacon returned to his SUV, inhaling deeply as he stood just outside the driver’s door. Still nothing.
>
  It took less than ten minutes to get home. He shot Lara a quick text, asking her for an update on Maynard Talbot if she had one, then climbed out of the car in his driveway.

  Deacon took a step toward his front door.

  He stopped, weighing the feel of the air. It was cold, bordering on frigid in the late hour, and the woods had gone quiet. No animal made a sound in the distance. Even the trees had gone still.

  He was being stalked.

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the dirt road, then toward the woods behind his house. There was nothing to be seen. Still he felt it, growing more intense with each step he took toward the front door of his house. Despite all his strength and knowing well what he was, Deacon felt his stomach shoot into his throat.

  “I know you’re there, Maggie. Will you come out?”

  The silence seemed to only deepen as he waited for a response. Then movement caught him so off guard, he jumped, moving away from the house as Maggie appeared from just around the corner of the building.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Deacon stared at her for a long moment. She was still naked from her shift, her arms crossed over her chest to shield herself from him. Yet, the patch of dark hair between her legs she didn’t bother to hide. He slipped out of his shirt, handing it to her as he averted his eyes.

  She snatched it and moved toward him, hand outstretched. She stopped herself. “You’re hurt.”

  Deacon glanced down at the bandages across his shoulder and chest, now brownish red and seeped through. He half hissed to see them, not out of pain, but out of displeasure at her seeing him bleeding. He didn’t want her worrying about his state. She had enough on her mind.

  “Your father’s going to be alright. We got him squared away at the clinic. Nothing life threatening.”

  He wasn’t halfway through this sentence before Maggie’s hand shot to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob. Deacon stepped toward her, wanting to go to her and wrap his arms around her, but again he held himself at bay. Though she wore his EMT shirt, she was still naked.