Reborn- His Scarlett Moon

The Purple Moon Pack woke up in the middle of the night with the heavy ringing of their alarm system.

There was an infiltration in their backyard. And the air reeked of fresh werewolf blood.

Not an auspicious sign at all.

Tristan surveyed the gruesome scene in front of him. The Greyhounds had struck again, leaving a trail of bloodied bodies in their wake. He turned to his second-in-command, Beta Victor.

“Any survivors?” he asked grimly.

Victor shook his head. “None, Alpha. They came in fast and took everyone by surprise. These guards in our pack didn’t stand a chance. That kids lived long enough to describe those monstrous wolves before he succumbed to his wounds. ”

Tristan clenched his jaw as he saw the severed limbs of the young lad still tremble with its phantom pain.

This was the third time the Greyhounds had attacked in the past month, and each time, they had grown bolder and more brutal. He knew he couldn’t let this continue.

He had been the one to let the point slide without much relevance at the All Alpha council. Never expecting that the Grey Wolves would attack his own pack which had a strategic topographical advantage.

There were four other packs surrounding their perimeter.

And not to mention the mountains and rivers around that acted as natural barriers.

For those enormous beasts to come all the way inside the backyard, unnoticed and rip the hearts out of all his men, was quite an extraordinary and absurd event.

This backyard belonging to the Purple Moon Back was like a getaway to their mainland.

“We need to put an end to this once and for all,” Tristan said, his voice low and dangerous. “Gather the strongest fighters we have. We’re going to track down these Greyhounds and take them out.”

The moon still shone bright in the night sky. The night was still young. The coyote could be heard from a distance along with the owl’s hoot.

The bats fluttered around in the forest. It was the dead of the night for normal humans.

The other members of the pack nodded grimly, their faces set with determination. They knew what was at stake.

They could not waste any moment.

The trail was still fresh so tracking those hounds should not be a problem.

As they set out into the night, Tristan’s mind raced with thoughts of vengeance. He couldn’t let the Greyhounds get away with this. They had to pay for what they had done.

He was sort of angry at himself for failing as a leader and not taking the matter more seriously when Sherizad and Ryan had brought it up.

They found their direction of retreat.

From the blood stains on the ground, they concluded that they would not be further than a few yards.

But as they journeyed deeper into the woods, they soon realized that they were no match for the Greyhounds. The creatures were faster, stronger, and more savage than anything they had ever encountered before.NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

” Speed up boys. I can smell their filthy scent. You won’t win,” Tristan growled, his voice filled with fierce determination. “I won’t let you get away with this.”

And then, just when it seemed they were about to catch on their trail, a group of wolves emerged from the shadows, howling and baring their teeth. Tristan watched in amazement as they charged right at them.

The Greyhounds advanced, circling him with some deadly intent. But Tristan stood his ground, his muscles tense and ready for the fight of his life. To tear through their thick fur with ferocity.

Tristen approached the monstrous group, their long fur bristling as they snarled at his approach.

Tristen observed them closely as they stood in the clearing. A hound-wolf hybrid would be a perfect fit to describe them literally. Massive and intimidating creatures, standing taller than an average wolf but heavier and broader. Their fur is a mix of long, shaggy hair and thick, wolf-like fur, providing excellent insulation against the cold of the mountains where they came from. The color of their coat varied from dark gray to white.

Their heads resembled that of a wolf, with a powerful jaw and sharp teeth, but they had the droopy ears and long snout of a hound. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, reflecting the moon and stars, and their howl sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it.

They were apex predators, there was no doubt about that.

Suddenly there was a change in the expressions on his face. Some thoughts crossed his mind and he held up a hand in a gesture of peace, hoping to start a dialogue with the savage creatures.

“Greetings, Greyhounds,” he said, his voice calm but authoritative. “I am Alpha Tristen, leader of the nearby Purple Moon Pack “, he deliberately tried mellowing down the mention of their barbaric rampage,

“May I ask what brings you to our territory and why you have been attacking our members?”

The Greyhounds growled in response but no one talked. Then one stepped forward, its eyes fixed on Tristen.

Tristen too observed carefully, sensing that there was more to the Greyhounds’ story than mere bloodlust. “Why have you been attacking our pack?” he repeated himself.

Tristen nodded thoughtfully. “I see. But why not simply warn us away, rather than resorting to violence?”

One of the gray wolves let out a low growl.

It did not speak but a voice echoed tearing the serenity of the night.

“We do not recognize your pack’s authority over these lands. We are the true masters here, and we will not be pushed aside by any interlopers.”

Tristen knew that this would not be an easy negotiation.

And that these were no ordinary wolves.

The Northern Packs needed to be contacted as soon as possible and brought to account.

He was determined to find a peaceful solution, if possible. “I understand your pride in your pack, but we cannot allow these attacks to continue. Perhaps there is a way we can work together, to find a way for all packs to coexist peacefully?”

But Tristen knew the look in their eyes was not that of negotiations. They were ready for another assault. Their eyes are looking for their weak spot. Tristen kept talking nonsense with them as he cued his troop to regroup into their defense formation with his hand signals.