Thread: Drawn to the Pack {darkest_fate&loneiysong}

The motorcycle stopped outside the one horse town. In actuality, there were several horses in the town that was among the first things that people were likely to notice. Around one third of Saul's people still kept horses, though they weren't always comfortable around them. As far back as people could remember, they'd cared for horses and the like. The tradition went back nearly as far as the skinchangers, though, in truth, you could claim that a lot of things went back far in the town of Moonwater. Moonwater as if the locals didn't chuckle every time they said it. Well, they chuckled when it actually wasn't a full moon. When the pale face shown in the sky, it was time to draw cattle and pets indoors, time to batten hatches. Not that any accidents happened, not even when visitors, rare though they were, drifted into town. Saul and his family had been keeping tight rein on the pack for, well, about as long as they'd had horses. That rein was so tight that even some of the folk of the town weren't fully aware of the pack. Most thought it to be some kind of local superstition, the type of thing that the elders clung on to to remind themselves of some long-forgotten glory days. Saul's sister, his twin, had been among those people, had been kept in the dark. Just thinking about that made him nearly grind his teeth together. They'd fought, Saul and his twin, his other half, right before Saul had left. She hadn't understood, didn't know what they needed. Father was dying, it wouldn't be long before the fittest male Palemoon would be Saul himself. The young man knew he could rise to the challenge he'd been preparing for it his whole life. Yet he wanted, no, he needed to leave, to seek a mate. A leader with a mate was a stronger leader someone who needed to protect something, someone. The pack had always been led by someone with strong blood that hadn't dimmed. A mate also showed the leader's prowess, though Saul's mother had often joked about how it was she who showed the real prowess when they mated. Having seen her fight, both in and out of wolf form, Saul was tempted to agree. But here he was returned after hearing about Father's death. Returned alone. Not that he hadn't had some luck. Saul was a handsome man. Yes, he was rather thin, almost coltish in appearance, but that came off more as tall than anything. Tall and long of limb, that was Saul. His friends had often jokingly called him Horse-Brother, a term that had spread among a few of the females of the tribe once Saul had fully matured, and not for the same reasons. That was one of the reasons Saul didn't exactly have lady troubles. That his face was handsome, with a roguish tint that threw back to tribal warriors and piercing grey eyes that spoke of some distant non-Native relative. Yet he still looked solid, as though he used that mischief to lead more often than not. Though Saul certainly didn't feel like a leader, not now. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which he'd cropped short just prior to leaving. It had grown some, but still was nearer to a buzz than anything. Bad enough to be a brave straight outta the rez worse if he boasted the Injun hair as well. They'd fought about that too. And there's bound to be more fighting, muttered Saul. He began walking up the worn path to the family home. She would be there. And so would Mother. Though, for some reason, it was she that Saul was more concerned with, more eager to meet again, more eager to greet and wrap in his arms. Should the first words out of his mouth be an apology? A request after their dad? Some sort of command? What would Father do? Saul still didn't have an answer, even as he knocked on the rickety door.