Pain.
Not the dull ache of sore muscles.
Not the burning sting of a fresh wound.
This was sharper. Deeper. Like something had split his skull open and forgotten to close it.
He woke with a sharp inhale, chest rising violently as cold air rushed into his lungs.
Grass.
He could feel it first before he could see it — damp blades pressing against his skin. The earth beneath him was cool and uneven, littered with pebbles and roots that dug into his back. A faint breeze brushed across his bare torso, carrying the smell of soil, moss, and distant trees.
He didn't move immediately.
Instinct told him not to.
Instead, he listened.
Wind through leaves.
Birdsong somewhere high above.
The quiet rustle of insects in tall grass.
No engines.
No distant city noise.
No electricity humming through power lines.
Silence.
His eyes snapped open.
A pale blue sky stretched endlessly above him, broken only by drifting clouds and the looming silhouette of towering trees. Their trunks were thick and ancient, bark rough and scarred like they had stood for centuries.
He frowned.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He pushed himself upright, and the motion sent a violent spike of pain through his skull. His vision blurred as memories tried to surface — fragments crashing into each other like broken glass.
Running.
Shouting.
The metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
Claws.
Fangs.
A battle beneath a moonlit sky.
His hand flew to his head as he groaned.
"I was… fighting."
The words left him hoarse and unfamiliar, as if he hadn't spoken in days.
His breathing slowed, instincts settling beneath his skin like a predator waking from slumber.
And then he noticed his body.
Or rather… the lack of clothing.
What remained of his clothes clung to him in torn, shredded pieces. The fabric looked like it had been dragged through claws and stone. Deep gashes sliced across the shirt's remains, exposing hard muscle and skin marked with faint healing wounds.
Claw marks.
His claw marks.
Recognition flickered in his eyes.
He exhaled slowly.
"Shift damage…"
His voice steadied.
Yes. That made sense. Werewolves shredded clothing when they transformed. He knew that. He remembered that.
He was a werewolf.
Not just a werewolf.
A True Alpha.
The title surfaced in his mind with an instinctive certainty that made his chest tighten. The power beneath his skin responded to the thought, a low hum vibrating through his bones.
But something else tugged at his memory.
Before the battle.
Before the pain.
There had been…
Technology.
Flashes of it appeared in his mind like distant dreams.
Streetlights, Metal roads, Glass buildings, Engines roaring like mechanical beasts.
Civilization.
He looked around again.
Trees. Endless forest.
No roads. No power lines. No distant hum of human life.
Only wilderness, Only silence.
And far in the distance…
Smoke rising from what looked like a village.
His stomach growled.
Loud. Violent. Primal.
Hunger hit him like a truck.
The kind of hunger that didn't ask politely.
It demanded.
His pupils dilated as the forest suddenly exploded into detail. The world sharpened into scents and sounds layered over reality.
Wet bark.
Rotting leaves.
Small animals beneath the soil.
Birds in the canopy.
And then, There.
A heartbeat.
Fast. Panicked. Small.
His head tilted slightly.
Rabbit.
The realization didn't feel strange. It felt natural. Automatic.
His body moved before his thoughts caught up.
The forest blurred around him as he sprinted forward, bare feet silent against the earth. Branches snapped past his shoulders, air tearing against his skin as the distance vanished in seconds.
The rabbit bolted.
Too slow.
He lunged.
The hunt lasted less than three seconds.
When he finished eating, the hunger had dulled into a manageable ache. Blood coated his fingers, warm and metallic, but he barely noticed. Instead, he leaned back against a tree trunk and exhaled slowly.
Survival came first. Questions later.
Water.
He needed water.
Closing his eyes, he let his senses spread again. Listening. Smelling. Feeling the world breathe.
Then he heard it.
Flowing.
A stream.
He followed the sound until the trees opened to reveal a narrow river winding through smooth stones and moss-covered banks. Sunlight danced across the water's surface, sparkling like shattered glass.
He knelt beside it and drank deeply.
Cold. Fresh. Real.
When he finished, he sat back and stared at the sky.
Clouds drifted lazily overhead.
"Where am I…?"
The question slipped out quietly.
He expected silence.
Instead—
A distant scream shattered the forest.
His head snapped toward the sound.
Wind shifted.
A scent rode the breeze.
Blood.
Not animal.
Human.
He was moving before he realized it.
The smell grew stronger with every step, metallic and thick, laced with something else beneath it. Something wrong. Something cold.
He burst into a clearing.
And stopped.
A man lay sprawled on the ground, eyes wide and lifeless, skin pale as snow. His clothes were simple — rough fabric, handmade stitching. The kind seen in history books.
But that wasn't what made the Alpha freeze.
It was the body.
No wounds.
No torn flesh.
No blood on the ground.
Yet the smell of blood was overwhelming.
The corpse looked…
Drained.
As if every drop inside him had been taken.
The Alpha's eyes narrowed.
Another scent lingered nearby.
Faint. Fading.
Not human.
Not wolf.
Gone.
He didn't chase it.
Not yet.
Instead, he stared down at the corpse, unease settling deep in his chest.
When he finally turned away, the sun had already begun to sink.
Night approached.
And somewhere in the forest…
Something else was hunting.