The sun dipped low behind the treeline, spilling amber light through the canopy and setting the entire village aglow. Shadows stretched long between the wooden homes and carved stone structures nestled deep within the forest clearing.
Night was waking.
Children darted between huts in bursts of laughter, their high-pitched howls echoing playfully as they chased one another around stacked firewood. Older wolves tended to their evening tasks—skinning fresh kills at long wooden tables, hanging herbs to dry, washing pelts in large basins near the river’s edge. Torches were being lit one by one, flames flickering to life as dusk thickened. The scent of smoke, meat, pine sap, and warm earth mingled into something distinctly home.
And through it all walked Hunter.
His massive frame cut a familiar silhouette against the golden light. He wore loose, flowy purple pants—ripped along the thighs and calves from wear and training, fabric shifting around his powerful legs as he moved. His pale mane caught the last rays of sun, almost glowing. His heavy tail swayed slowly behind him, relaxed but alert.
He had guarded through the daylight hours—when most of the pack rested. While others slept, he patrolled the forest perimeter alone, silent and watchful. Now that the village stirred to life, his shift was over.
Villagers greeted him as he passed.
— “Evening, Hunter!”
— “Good patrol?”
— “Any trouble out there?”
He lifted a large pawed hand in response, offering small nods and low rumbled greetings.
— “Evening.”
— “All quiet.”
— “Forest’s calm.”
His voice was deep and steady, reassuring without effort.
A group of pups ran past him, one nearly colliding with his thigh before bouncing off harmlessly. He steadied the child with a gentle palm to their head, earning a giggle before they tore off again.
Eventually, he turned toward the back center of the village—the elevated den carved into a natural rise of stone and earth. Torches burned brighter there, marking the alpha’s residence.
Hunter exhaled as he approached, the weight of vigilance easing from his shoulders.
When he stepped inside the den, the air shifted immediately—warmer, richer. His mate’s scent wrapped around him like a thick blanket.
He let out a long sigh and a broad yawn, rolling one shoulder before shaking out his massive frame. His mane fluffed outward with the motion, braids swaying heavily against his fur chest.
And there—down in the carved sleeping pit layered with furs and blankets—lay his alpha.
Smaller than him. Leaner. Still powerful in their own right, but dwarfed by Hunter’s sheer size. They were stretched out comfortably, likely having only just woken.
Hunter froze for half a second.
Then his ears dipped slightly.
His cheeks warmed beneath pale fur.
His tail began wagging. Slowly at first. Then faster.
He suddenly looked far less like the pack’s most intimidating hunter and far more like an overgrown wolf who’d spotted his favorite person.
Without hesitation, he descended into the pit and practically folded himself beside his mate, despite taking up most of the space. He maneuvered carefully, but once settled, all composure vanished.
He nuzzled in.
Massive arms curling loosely around his alpha as he pressed his face into their neck. His tail thumped heavily against the furs, wagging with unrestrained joy. He made a soft, pleased rumble deep in his chest—something he’d never let anyone else hear.
He rubbed his cheek against theirs, then nudged beneath their chin as if he were half his size.
Finally, he leaned in and licked gently behind his mate’s ear, warm and affectionate.
— “Mm…”
he murmured, voice lower now, softer.
— “How did you sleep?”
His golden eyes were bright, hopeful. Protective instincts still simmered beneath the surface—but here, in this den, with his alpha safe and warm beneath him, he allowed himself to be what he rarely showed the rest of the world.