The agitation of being crushed into the snow by hands, multiple sets pushing, holding the Wild in her place, has a low toned warning growl of her unhappiness vibrate outwards into the daytime sky. Desperately she tries to get her legs underneath her, to seek to push her hind legs upwards, to shake off the body that's draped over the top of them. Another body pushes it's weight on her, trying to get the Wild to stop on her destructive path forward.

"Let her go; I have no problem doing what you could not, Odin." Alpha Borson's balancing on the balls of his feet. A weight of a body shifts off creating breathing room for the Wild to try and fix herself properly once again.

"Odin, enough!" Luki's voice hammering into the Wild's ear, the sound still rings long after the words are said. The blood from Odin's loss of flesh still drip aggressively down his arm, the metallic taste is thick in the air from multiple bleeding bodies.

Odin's space devours into his father's. The shadow is fully covering over Alpha Borson's presence. Both males are posturing their unhappiness towards the other. This moment between father and son heightening, stretching, its rolling forward in grand momentum.

The Wild violently fights the crushing grips of her captures; she intends to stand with her Half in a show of solidarity. Hind legs finally finding a grip she raises her back up, front paws clawing forward, dragging the ants along her path towards her Half, her underbelly dragging in the blood of others. Until she is at Odin's feet, raising up with a magnitude of determination.

Nothing can stop the Wild from standing with her mate. Nothing, not the bodies clinging to her, not the teeth of the Alpha, nothing will stop her to seek vengeance for what this male has taken away from her male.

Hierarchy in the Wild's mind begins with her, so untamed is her Nature that Odin has no choice but to stop his posturing towards his father to calm the Wild down.

Flash of Fang, lifted lip.

She is provoking, antagonizing, screaming out towards Alpha Borson's Wild to do something, anything to her. His jacket pulls off his body, along with his shirt, old tattoos create the canvas of art that Odin also wears. He holds the seven symbols along his forearm, Odin now hold's only six, that's the difference between father and son.

The wind starts to gust around the clearing, causing the barren branches of the trees to raise up and down as if singling for all of this to cease before Nature comes barrel in with her force that is hard to stand against.

Another furious display of teeth showcases the Wild's war towards this Alpha who has brought her very Nature to the forefront. RIdge fur bristling, rising, stiff leg posturing. This is without control; she cannot be reigned in, she cannot be handled in any way.

The atmosphere is deteriorating, becoming thinner, harder to breathe because the power of her just keeps growing, crushing the marrow of who I am.

Odin's fingers are in the scruff of fur around her neck, her head turns towards him, brushing her cheek against his arm, displaying affection only for him. He illicit deep seeded wants within her very structure. When he pulls the Wild back, she will not move, she will not budge from her spot. Rising up, puffing herself to become bigger, thicker, fiercer than any Wild here.

She is the standard of Hierarchy, now.

Odin's whole body is pulling her backward, attempting to control her path toward the Alpha is who not backing down. He holds his spot, cunning eyes watching the moment of her, while eyes of the Wild stalk her prey. Odin's blood saturating into her fur, causing a madness wrap around her being.

Morvared is coming to stand a few inches away, the Wild's eyes also hold her for a calculate minute, telling the Healer she holds no fondness for her either.

Odin has no control over her, his attempts at pulling the forward motion of her back is useless. She will not budge on the path she wants to mark with blood. A show to all other's that she has arrived.

When Odin stands between his father and the Wild he does something that holds her vision, he shows his unmarked neck to her. Within that moment of observation, all her other intentions stop to focus now on a much better prospect.

The Nature of Love taking control now, her teeth display towards Odin, looking at his neck, exactly where her mark will display her Claim on him. She alters her course from the Alpha towards Odin who is backing up, before turning to sprint away from the clearing. The Wild is in pursuit of a mate who is teasing her. He runs, full out, but so does she, her body streamlining against the wind.

The run is hard, long; he doesn't make it easy on her. His momentum is much easier to turn and twist away while she always has to right herself. This is not playtime; this is a chase for her. At the end she expects to hold Odin in her jaws, letting his blood leak down her throat while she binds herself to him. For Odin's part he's without exhaustion, keeping up the hard pace, he does not tire, he does not falter he just goes on and on, until the Wild loses track of him.

Disappearing, even the blood trail we were on has stopped leaking. Nothing but the voice of Nature to guide us home, nose to the ground searching for just a hint of the dark soil that only his scent can bring us.

The door has been left open when going back to her home. Her fight has been exhausted out of her. The run has taken all of the morning, consumed the afternoon and now the sun is setting in the distance.

With a weariness the Wild yields to me finally, the shift is fast and efficient while entering the house. Odin is on the couch holding a cloth to his forearm that's soaked in the blood of him. He diverts his eyes, not looking while I walk past him into the bedroom.

When coming out in a tank top with a skirt, he's packed more skirts that I never even knew I owed. The wood stove is blazing up, the crack of wood being consumed in fire gives off the only sound in the space.

Odin's legs are spread, with his elbows resting on his thighs, he's looking out the window, not meeting my eyes.

"We need to leave here, Odin." He doesn't reply just closes his eyes as if he's in pain.

"Odin, look at me, we need to leave. We can go back to my pack, my father will welcome you, your mother, sister brother, Uncle and anyone else can come with us. This is not right."

Odin still doesn't meet my eyes, he just continues to stare out the window at the darkening sky. He blinks a few quick times, a hard swallow down.

"I always knew I would loose it, my Honor." His tone of voice isn't as fierce. Isn't as strong.

"Why did you know you would lose it?"

"Because you're my mate, Charlie. I knew it the minute I came home from your birth-pack with the news you still lived. He told me he would take it away, he always told me, I just didn't expect it to be like that, in front of you." His head hangs down before he picks it up again to look anywhere but me. He looks as if he's in great distress, great pain within himself that cause a slight bile to rise inside my stomach to burn with acid inside my throat.

"You could have stopped him, you could have done something?" Approaching the radius of Odin, getting into his space on bended knees.

Ancient greens regard me with unfiltered agony, "he's my father."

"He's no father, Odin. Father's don't do that."

That's where our edge of silence is held on the last of my words that hopefully is contemplating in Odin's mind. When going to take the towel away from his arm he pulls away.

"It's fine." Barely said words out of a mouth that is downturned.

"Let me see, please," pulling the towel off, the blood has stopped, but the wound itself is open, deep with irregular edges. His father made this hurt, creating more pain for Odin.

"Where is that oil that made your hands numb?" Standing up, at least his external suffering can dimish with the use of that oil.

"It's in the storage closet, it a trunk on the floor." His head is resting on the back of the couch even his eyes look weighted down.

Pulling the heavy Oak trunk into the living room by its thick handle it makes a scraping noise on the wooden floor.

"What's in here?"

"Things for the Claiming Ceremony." With those words, my interest is heightened.

Opening the lid, an array of different items that I have never seen before creating a giddiness from within.

A bag filled with leaves that have been dried that the leaves are cracking and breaking from the brittleness of them.

"What is this for?" Holding the bag up.

"I'm going to grind those leaves into a paste, then I'm going to paint your body like mine for the Ceremony. You'll have nothing on except the tattoos my body holds."

"So you will paint me?"

"Yes, no other male shall touch you, it would have been The Singer to the Moon but he's gone now. He has apprentices but, I think it's better if I am the one to paint you for the day. Your skin will be stained for a few weeks before it washes off."

"So I am to go up with only the stain on my body from these plants?" A small intake of breath threatens to reveal how nervous I am.

"I will be without clothes as well, all of me displaying for you." He holds no nervousness with the way his voice comes out.

"I'm nervous about all this Odin."

"It's to be expected, you are not from here. You don't understand."

"Then make me understand."

"Every single tattoo on my body has meaning, holds value. Every single thing I have done is for you, my Half. So you would be covered when your Walk comes. To show everyone there is nothing that I won't kill or do for you." The passion he speaks is a truth, in his heart, he believes everything he has been taught to believe.

Rummaging through the very organized trunk, dried mushroom catch my eye.

"What's this for?" holding the bag up.

"Those will be boiled into a tea to make you calm, relaxed. Mixed with that," His finger points to seeds. "those will give you a feeling of euphoria, those seeds in that bag will make you not remember the ceremony."

"Those won't work on me, you know this."

"Won't they?" He says it as if he knows something.

"They won't."

"Morvared gave you some of them, it made you throw up, but it also made you forget the conversation you had with me, with her when I came to get you from her house. I told you my sister was waiting for you, the next morning you forgot everything that happened." Searching my mind, trying to recall the conversation about his sister visiting, I only remember him telling me the morning I woke up.

"It's alright, Charlie. She'll get it right, if not I have faith in Lana to perfect it for you."

Bristling towards him now, "I'm not an experiment, Odin. You guys just can't give me that and see what happens." Giving him a face of my displeasure.

"You know what Odin, I'm going to start to experiment on you, give you things that will make you be unable to perform on the day of the Ceremony, how does that sound." Looking at him cleverly, as if I am the smartest wolf in the world.

"You don't have access to that tree here." His own keenness shines out in his voice.

"Where's the oil?"

"In that jar." Odin points to a small darkened brown bottle that is just a few inches high, but thick at the base.

Putting just a drop on my finger, "give me your arm." A toned command that has him not moving with my instruction.

"Odin, let me touch you." Reaching out, taking the towel away. With the tip of my finger where the oil is, I touch his wound at the edges first, around the sliced skin, a hiss from Odin before he clamps his mouth shut.

Working my finger around cautiously until all the oil is smeared against the wound. "Does that feel better now?"

"It does. I can't feel my skin anymore."

"Good, Odin," a pausing thought going through my head.

"Yes, Charlie." He's relaxed against the couch, his body sinking into the mattress.

"If you plan on using enough of that on me," A moment of hesitance, the skin on my cheeks heating up and I hope he can't see my blush. "How will you be able to feel and do what needs to be done at the ceremony? How will you be able to function properly as a Male if you can't feel your-" Not going further on with my words, looking down with an uncomfortable feeling.

"I'm not sure, Charlie, but I will figure it out."

Ancient forest not wavering from my direct path when I pull my sight back to him.

"Come here?" Holding out his hand to me, taking it he sits me on his lap, pressing his cheek against mine, his lips find its way to the pulse of my wrist, lingering them there. Inhaling me into his lungs his tremors start to vibrate into the flesh of my thighs.

"Odin, will you do a tattoo for me?"

"What would you like?"

"Your lips right here." Touching the spot that still holds a shine to my skin where his mouth was just a moment ago.

Odin is nonverbal, letting his body speak for him, the greed is rising. The palm of his hand finding its way underneath my skirt, resting just above my knee. The pad of his thumb swiping back and forth not touching my panties but close, so very close. His mouth finds its way to the base of my neck, pulling, sucking right where his mark will go.

"I'm greedy, Charlie." His confession fires up my core, a pulsing hum to his words. "My honor is gone, there is no need to wait anymore."

The skirt riding up more, from a hand that is slowly rising against the flesh of my naked thigh.

"I'm not going to be able to stop."