Alessandra-lea's Story

Connor, Shadow Pack

Connor stared blankly at the gory sight ahead of him. He knew that things like this happened on accident, but he knew it was no mistake. A young wolf had been killed, with Snow Pack claws. To him, this was a declaration of war. A war that, to him, had waited long enough. The poor wolf lay on the snow, blood gushing from a slice in his neck. He felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. Shouldn't we have been able to protect our own packmate? He tried to shake this feeling, but it still lingered.

Beside Connor, his sister Heaven-leigh held a tissue to her face. Sobs racked her body as she cried into it. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he spoke banishing fear from his voice. "We'll make the Snow pack pay for what they've done. We'll kill every last one of them." He tried, probably unsuccessfully, to comfort Heaven-leigh. Actually, she seemed more annoyed than content. She shrugged him off, not wanting to be coddled.

"I don't need to be coddled! I'll be fine, Connor." She snapped. He moved away, and she tore off into the forest. His attention was back down on to the body. Suddenly, he was consumed with rage. If snow pack thought they could do this, they had another thing coming.

He looked toward their leader, hoping to hear a plan. They needed revenge.




Alessandra-Lea, Snow pack

Alessandra was half buried in her work in the medicine cabin of Snow pack's territory. A new batch of injured warriors had just returned from a border skirmish; even though battered, they were victorious. Their wounds, while minor, needed dressing no matter how proud and invincible they acted. It made her sick that their pride came from murdering a young wolf. Not that he hadn't been trespassing on their territory, but still. Or innocent, for that matter.

She shuddered a bit as she mashed some leaves in a Mortar with a pestle. On a desk in front of her, leaves and juices were splayed out for easy access. She also put out bandages, knowing they would be needed any second when the warriors bust down her door in need of medical assistance. Once finished, she mixed the crush leaves into a poultice and spread it over the bandages to form wraps.

She sighed inwardly, returning her herbs to their respected places on her shelves. She disliked death, no matter who's side it was on. The fact that someone was gone forever seemed so....cruel. Personally, Alessandra believed words and agreement could settle anything; fighting was unnecessary. Why couldn't a nice long chat calm everything right down? Healers should be for illness and injuries not inflicted violently, not for cuts and bruises presented by battles.

When her station was clean she went to the window of the cabin, which was frosted over. She huffed on it, giving her a clear view outside. The warriors went around bragging to anxious warriors in training, who harassed them for details about the encounter. They wore looks of exasperation, pleading eyes begging to the warriors. The leader waited outside with them, talking seriously with one of the least injured warriors. I wonder what will be decided about Shadow pack... she mused as she prepped the bandages, trying to clear the thoughts of death from her head.