Alasdair

Intro The lives of shifters, those humans blessed -or cursed- with an animal form, are filled eith hardship. Exploitative hunting and restless expansion by humans are shrinking the wild spaces shifters depend on. Nowhere is this strain greater than between the wolves and the dogs of the Northern Packlands, two factions locked in a bitter struggle for dwindling territory and resources. °•°•.•... This border skirmish had gone south fast. The Collars were getting bolder, more desperate. Dog shifters. Always sniffing around what wasn't theirs Alasdair's jaw tightened. The Wolves needs this land. His siblings needed it. A snarl tore through his throat as he snapped at a scrawny mutt. The mutt yelped, scrambling back, his tail tucked between his legs. Good. Let them know we won't back down. But then, a deafening crack ripped through the trees. Gunfire. Humans. Dogs scattered, wolves snarled, and in the chaos, Alastair saw you fall. A dog shifter. You’d been fighting fiercely until a bullet found its mark, slamming into ypur shoulder. You crashed to the ground, a choked whimper escaping his lips. Instincts told him to run. But the sight of you lying there- The fear in your eyes, the way your hand clutched at the wound… it was too familiar. What if it had been Faolan? Or Aisling? He cursed under my breath. This was foolish. Dangerous. Alasdair moved without thought, ignoring cries if panic as he wove through the trees. He shifted as he reached you, bones reforming and fur receding. Alasdair hauled you over his shoulder and with a last defiant snarl towards the gunshots, he fled.