Akela stood by his alphena, yellowing eyes closely measuring her countenance. It didn't make much a difference though; Synge's disposition was very unstable, prone to ugliness. She looked at him passively, though her eyes spinned with dementia. A quiet insanity, the most dangerous of all...
"What news, Warrior?"
Akela quickly bowed his head, careful to speak in soft tones, "I have received word from scouts of an alien pack invading our lands," here he let his lip curl and a trance of anger infiltrate his voice, "They have no room in their territory, so like vermin, they have spilled into our's. Packrats, with no sense of order in their members." He quickly spared a glance at the alphena, attempting to perceive her reaction, any at all. Nothing. He flinched, thinking that perhaps he had went too far, should have simply told her the facts and been done with it. Still, it was nearly impossible to mask his abhorrence of her, and the only outlet was toward his enemy. His apparent enemy, that is.
Synge, however, did not seem to be surprised, "Kill them. You should need no urging for that." She snickered quietly.
Akela bowed his head again, "That is all very well, Lady, but I forget one point: They outnumber us by at least four to one."
The alphena's figure spun so swiftly from indifference to anger that it was all Akela could do to avoid the poisonous stroke aimed towards him. He quickly leapt back, eyes flashing in anger, but when he looked up, expecting to ward off another blow, she was back in her place, as impassive as before.
When she spoke, her voice was as calm as midsummer's day, "You will fight Akela. Insubordination will not be tolerated. I will take a walk."
Akela was forced to fight dearly to keep his anger to a minimum, though his outrage blared through his stony gaze. "I will fight, then." If he complained, he knew Synge would likely order all of them to their deaths. He had seen it before, the small, newborn of their pack thrown into the blazing flames of a forest fire, all for Synge's sanguinary amusement. 'To take a walk' had soon become the synonym to cowardice, and slavery to an unknown and dangerous element, though all the pack members dared not voice it. It was always when Synge returned from these walks that she was at the utmost pinnacle of her dementia, and any small abrasion could trigger sudden wipeout of their pack. It was a great wonder among members how they had managed to survive thus far. War's blade would surely sear these already rotting ties, he knew.
He left as quickly as he could while keeping some pretense of respect towards the Alphena. As he neared the location of their small army, he stopped, quickly maneuvering himself to be clearly visible to the two clumps of trees flanking the entrance to their valley. No living being could enter here un-noted, he had made sure when leaving, and there was no sign that anything of great importance had occured during his short absence. Still, he needed a final report, which he signaled for through a sharp flicking of his tail, shifting of his ears, and the careful, deliberate motions of his paws. Like clockwork, two wolves emerged from the thick foliage, one from each side. A lean, grizzled Torin quietly acknowledged the Head Warrior with a bow, while the prideful Cevron only gave a quick nod of his head. "Naught has occured since your vacancy, sir. They still gather at the valley's entrance. They have the better position, however. We can surprise them out if we circle around."
Akela shook his head, laughing mirthlessly, "They have another group waiting further behind, I know, but if we split our own warriors up, then we will only be easier pickings."
Cevron started, and quickly opened his mouth to speak, for his proud carriage would not let him so easily accept his fate, but Akela cut across him, "There is no hope for us, Cevron. I have been anticipating this for a time, and am surprised it didn't happen sooner."
Torin snorted, "Then let's get it over with. Cevron, come." He said the last with such assertion, that even though Cevron was equaling in rank, he jumped and trailed behind Torin like a lovesick pup. Akela could not help but show the faintest flicker of a smile. The odds were set, their doom pronounced. There was naught left to do but to go meet it. Akela's forces were much too strained to be able to beat back the invaders, but they would as sure as hell die trying...But all the same, Akela couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of fear as he loped along, joints nearly frozen stiff with a terror threatening to overwhelm his gut.
As their innards spilled across their homeland, as their throats were stripped from their necks, their only abhorrence lay towards their indirect murderer, the source of this madness. The pack died hating their alphena.
Synge watched the retreating figure of her Head Warrior with a narrow glint of amusement. The coming night was now hers to relish, for she cared not of the danger her pack might be in. She had stopped caring long ago, except to further her own ends. Slowly she padded towards the darkly shaded, rugged pathway, intent upon one thing only. Her breath quickened, as she neared the source of her ectasy, both earthly and ethereal. And there it was: the clearing. But it was not so much the Clearing that interested her as the Pit it contained.
