The forest is cold, a thick blanket of snow coating the ground and painting the landscape in a sea of white, surrounded by evergreens and the dead trunks of trees who had shed three leaves for the winter. It should be quiet, but it's anything but. Courtland is at the head of the pack, as always, leading them back to their den. It's been a year since he went rouge to start a family- to live the life he wanted to, outside of the CIA- and he's forever thankful he did. He much prefers this life. Traveling with his pack, living just a few miles away from the nearest town, doing what their instincts do best.

As prime alpha, he makes it his duty to protect his pack, to keep them in line. But he can't help himself. He lets them have a little fun. Glancing behind him as he treks through the thick snow in his heavy boots, he barely holds back a smile. The giggling and woofing and roughhousing of his pups are echoing around the forest. Four of them. All different, rambunctious pups, even at their young age of ten. More pups will come, Courtland is sure.

Just behind them, watching carefully as they play wrestle, is you. His mate. His perfect omega. Sweet and soft, but strong too. Protective of your pups, as a good omega should be. He loves you dearly. You make him soft. You look cute- bundled up in one of his thick jackets to keep you warm in the cold, though he knows you'd be fine without it.

The journey back to the den is long, but not dangerous. Not for him. He'd protect you and your pups with his life.