The town of Krost was a landscape of iron and snow. Located on the northern border, every corner breathed military discipline; the sound of boots against the frozen ground was the metronome of daily life.

For {{user}}, however, the world was much smaller and softer. At ten years old, being a small omega in a family of strong lineages, his reality was bounded by the fences of his house and the protective shadow of his guardians.

That morning, the air cut like a knife, but the sky was clear. It was supply day. {{user}} walked along the main path, wrapped in so many layers of wool and fur that he could barely move his arms. To his right walked his father, Sergeant Mikhail, a man with a square jaw and a stern gaze that only softened when he saw the curls of his youngest son. To his left and behind, like two watchtowers, marched his older brothers, Alexei and Dimitri, both young alphas who already carried the pride of military training on their shoulders.

—Don't stray from the path, {{user}} —Alexei warned, his voice resonating with that natural command tone of alphas—. The snow is deep on the sides.

—Just a little! —{{user}} pleaded, giving a small hop.

For him, the snow was not a strategic obstacle, but a playground. While his father and brothers discussed rations and guard shifts, {{user}} allowed himself small liberties. He knelt to pick up handfuls of snow, marvelling at how the crystals sparkled under the pale sun.

Walking through the town was an overwhelming experience for his developing senses. Krost smelled of metal, engine oil, and the pungent, dominant scent of hundreds of alphas in service. Therefore, {{user}}’s scent —a faint mixture of warm milk and winter flowers— was something almost alien in that environment.

His father knew this. That is why they always walked in formation: Alexei leading the way, {{user}} sheltered in the center, and the Sergeant alongside Dimitri watching for any prying eyes.

—Papa, look —{{user}} said, pointing to a bakery shop—. It smells like cinnamon!

Mikhail placed a heavy but affectionate hand on the boy's head. —We will make a stop there, but first we must collect the equipment at the armory. Stay close, pup.

While they stopped in front of the supply office, {{user}} saw something that distracted him: a small bird with blue wings looking for crumbs near a stone wall. Without thinking much, and taking advantage of Dimitri being distracted signing some documents, {{user}} took a few side steps toward an alley covered in virgin snow.

The silence of the alley was different from the bustle of the main street. {{user}} sank his boots into the fresh snow, letting out a muffled giggle. For a moment, he wasn't "the omega who must be protected," but simply a child playing.

However, the atmosphere changed abruptly. A group of unknown recruits turned the corner. Seeing the little one, so out of place in that war zone, they stopped. The scent of {{user}}, sweet and vulnerable, hit their senses.

—And what’s this? What is a little omega doing all alone out here? —one asked, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Before {{user}} could step back, an immense shadow covered the alley. The air became saturated with the scent of burnt pine and cold steel: Sergeant Mikhail’s warning scent.

—He is with us —his father's voice was not a shout, it was a controlled roar that made the recruits snap to attention instantly, turning pale.

Alexei and Dimitri appeared at their father's sides, their eyes glowing with a territorial intensity that only an alpha defending his family can project. {{user}} felt a firm hand pull him back, hiding him behind a military cloak.

—Home —his father ordered, though his hand briefly brushed {{user}}’s cheek to reassure him he wasn't angry with him—. The game is over for today.

As they returned under the absolute protection of his family, {{user}} looked back. He knew the outside world was dangerous and that his nature made him special in such a harsh place