With Hands to Hold | ✔

|34|

Vincent's entire body ached. He had been away from his mate for nearly a full week, scouring the northernmost area of no man's land. Thus far, he had found nothing and developed an incredibly pissy mood from missing his pack and mate.

He was starting to feel a little bit claustrophobic in his fur, having been in his wolf form for several days. It was the longest he had spent in that form; even though he loved his beast he was starting to miss the small novelties of being a human — like hands, and cell phones.

He had not been in contact with Spiraea since he had left— 5 whole days ago. Cell phones would not work out here, and he was too far to mind link her. He hoped that she wouldn't be too upset when he got back, though considering her reaction to him leaving he wasn't so sure.

If she felt anything like what he did then her anger would pass quickly once he returned... (Or so he hoped.) He decided the first thing he would do when he saw he again was bend her over the closest surface and have her. Just thinking about it only fuelled his frustration, agitating him further.

He was close to giving up, the week that he had promised Spiraea was almost up, and it would take another couple of days to get back to his pack.

It truly had been a great effort, but perhaps he shouldn't have put all his hope in a pipe dream. Even his best trackers couldn't find any trace of anyone living out here.

Just as he was about to give the order to pack up to return home, one of his trackers came trotting forward. The dark brown wolf shaking his head and pointing off to the left.

Alpha, we found something.

Vincent shifted back into his skin, a short burst of growls and grunts turned to human vocalisation as the painful transformation overtook his body. Once the human emerged from the beast, he quickly pulled on a pair of track suit bottoms and a t-shirt before nodding to the wolf.

"Lead the way."

The wolf trotted along, the rest of the team following along in perfect formation. They jogged for a few minutes, Vincent even in his skin side able to keep up with his wolves quite easily.

They came to a stop near a small brook. Vincent recognised the disturbed dirt on the bank, as if someone had been there to draw water. Upon closer inspection, the bushes nearby had also been disturbed, almost picked completely clean of the berries that it blossomed.

"Can you trace a scent?" Vincent turned to two of his leading men. A small hopeful feeling blossoming in his chest; for the first time in a very long time, Vincent prayed to the Goddess.

'It's faint, but I can track it.'

They took of in an instant, at first the scent seemed to lead them eastward, but eventually it circled right back around. It was annoying, but they stuck with it anyway. This rogue-alpha was clever, it would be a skill that was much needed later. If they could find him.

They slowly began to veer off further into the forest once more. The were trees a little bit denser, but they didn't slow down at all. The wolves maneuvered around the trees like water around rock— they were impressively agile for large beasts.

The tracker in front, a young male name Kieran suddenly stopped. In front of him stood a curtain of leaves and flowers— lavender. The scent was so strong that it filled the air around them; it was clearly being used to mask the scent of the rouge.

Vincent gestured for his wolves to wait, moving forward to cautiously part the wall of flowers. He took another cautious step, not daring to let his guard own— he had no doubt that this Rogue knew that he was there.