Detective Brand

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xknivesandlint:

—

The Half Breed and the Runt

operativeseventythree:

He is made aware of her presence almost as soon as she crosses into his territory. The message carried from one pack of wolves to the next. Even though he is not their alpha, the canines in and about his land understand how things worked. They provide a network of constant information, and he protects them from those they could not defend themselves against.

It takes very little time at all for Willow, the leader of his little band of orphaned wolves, to be told of the intruder. And she in her way told him.  Ion had been quick to locate the trespasser, though its smell was unlike what he was used to. It was canine and yet not, werewolf and yet not  Something new, something foreign and his mouth hitched into a muted growl as he made to get ahead of it. His wounds from several days prior were healed now, and he was once more in a position to protect his home. But first perhaps a little reconnaissance. Get a taste of what it was. What this werewolf that wasn’t quite a werewofl by its scent was doing here. Especially so close after he had put one of the wolf kin down for threatening his make shift family.

Hunting was an instinct. Like a human’s instinct to breathe might be. But Ion had learned a very long time ago that unlike human breathing hunting was an art. A skill that could be fine tuned. And sometimes hunting was best done by allowing that which you hunted to think it was hunting you. To keep it centered upon what was in front of it, and blind to that which lie behind it.

And while his make shift pack moved to east to come around behind it, he led it onward. Into the thicker part of the wood and down into a ravine. Retracing his path step for step back out again and leaping up onto an over hung ledge and out of sight.

His hunting of the hunter plan worked without a hitch, not that he had expected less. He’d had years to study and perfect his trade after all. Willow, Kasha, and Ariel; the three females of the litter he had adopted had made their appearance like clock work. Blocking the strange woman’s path. Dozer and Levi emerging from the woods behind their sisters when the first snarl from the intruder rings out.

Gold flashed across dark blue eyes as he crouched down upon his view point. Head tilting ever so to the side as his gaze narrowed, and nostrils flared. It was a she apparently. Something that bothered him greatly he had not been able to detect so before. He blames it on the heat, and the overall oddity of her scent.

Long golden blonde hair caught up in a tail at her neck. Thin framed but a solidness to her just detectable to a trained eye. His inbred curiosity reared its head, and he remains as he is. Unmoving, his breath held. To keep himself as invisible as he can. At least until Willow took a dangerous step forward. And a much more threatening snarl of ‘leave’ erupted from the woman.

He stands, stepping right off of his perch to land behind her. Dragging her up form her own crouch; a firm grip about her throat. The other pressing razor sharp clawed nails, into the fabric covering her middle. One wrong move and he would simply impale her and rip her clean in two.His nostrils flare again, as he inhales deeply. Nose running along her shoulder, up her neck and into her hair.

The core of her scent is still undefinable, though now he can tell she is well versed to the human like world. Stale coffee lingers in her hair, vanilla saturates her skin as though she had coated herself in it. A low growl hitches his mouth, as lips settle at her ear. His gaze resting upon his pack who are poised to pounce if necessary.

      It is unwise to threaten those who have bigger friends than you.

The first thing she felt was anger - anger at having been
caught so entirely unawares and that she had been utterly
unable to detect him sneaking up on her.

The second feeling was fear - she could feel the strength is
his body, pressed up against hers, and in the hands that so
tightly held her in place and threatened to rip her in half. 

However, she choked it down before he could smell it on her
and Cara would have growled if he had not been gripping her
throat so tightly and she was concerned about him flinching
and accidentally and quite literally tearing her head off. It was
obvious that he was the one that she had been looking for and
while his scent was similar to the one she had been tracking,
it was vaguely different and she could tell instantly that he was
not a werewolf.
For the runt, it was always easy to detect those who were her kind.
They all smelled the same, to a degree as everyone had their
unique aromas, but there was an earthy, heady, rich scent that
was somewhere between dog and moss that they all seemed to
share and betrayed their nature to her.

But this male…

There was something that was equally as earthy but more…
wild, and alive, the way that a forest smelled after a storm. It
was so raw that she could not help but take a deep breath to
ensure that she was smelling it properly beneath the scent of
body odour, dirt, smoke, and fresh pine. It was not wholly unpleasant,
which surprised her, but his aggression was though she could
do nothing about it. 
So, silently, she bared his neck to him in a sign of submission
which even the wolves who had gone silent would understand. 

It was obvious to Cara immediately how her brother’s pack mates
had gotten into trouble with her mysterious assailant. He was
territorial, and protective, his dominance over her and his domain
apparent and the idiots who had encountered him were not the best at 
understanding that they were but omegas, and that they were not, in
fact, the most strong werewolves out there. She knew for a fact that
Erik had to remind them at least monthly just who was in charge.
However, she did not have that problem. She was all too aware
of what she was - that she was lesser, and lower, and she knew
when it was time to lay down and not fight.

"I didn’t know she had bigger friends," she replied quietly, lifting her hands.
"I mean no harm."

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