Tears prickled in Trevor's eyes. Sick as he was, he had no chance of running away, and no matter which way he shifted, he couldn't squish himself into the cave any further. He was stuck.
He resolved to keep his eyes closed, so he wouldn't have to see the teeth as the wolf's jaws closed down on him, but he couldn't help himself when he heard the alpha growl. His eyes snapped open to see those cold yellow eyes glaring down on him. He let out a stifled sob. Even if he was healthy, he would have no chance of taking down the hulking brute of a wolf that stood in front of him. The seconds dragged into minutes as he stared at the alpha's paws, shaking violently. The weight of the alpha's pheromones shook through him like a storm.
Suddenly, the alpha pulled back, eyes locked on Trevor, while sniffing the air.
"You're alone?"
Eyes never leaving the ground, Trevor nodded. The alpha seemed satisfied with his answer and he could feel the pheromones partially dissipate.
"You're an omega."
Trevor nodded again, lifting his head ever so slightly before lowering it back to the ground. The alpha continued to stare at him as though he expected him to say something.
When he remained silent, the alpha came closer and closed his teeth around the back of Trevor's neck. Holding tight to his scruff, the alpha dragged the omega out of the cave. Trevor winced when one of his back paws knocked against the rocks at the cave opening. His head was swimming. He tried to pull himself back to his feet, but they were exhausted and not moving the way he wanted to.
"Which pack are you from?" The voice drifted in and out, fading into the buzzing in his head.
The night air was brisk and cold, and his fever finally got the best of him: his vision circled in on him until all he could see were two looming eyes in the darkness.
------
Trevor woke up in a bed of furs. He was warm, and his fever must have broken while he was sleeping because his head felt clear again. Usually it took him days to break a fever—how long had he been out? His muscles were still sore, but from the looks of it, he wasn't going to be needing to use them anytime soon.
The room was a prison of cold cement walls. In one corner, there were steps leading up to a dark, wooden door. In the opposite corner were a bucket of water and some small strips of meat. It was more than he would have had at home.
He eyed the closed door warily before shuffling over to sniff the meat. He scanned the room once more to look for any hiding places before he carefully collected the meat. Once he was back safely in the furs, he lowered down on his haunches and slowly nibbled on the meat.
There was no way out of this room but the door. If he was going to leave, it was going to be through it. Eventually he'd have to face it: if it were locked, then he'd have to wait in the cellar until someone came. If it wasn't locked, there was no telling how many wolves there would be up above. He wasn't strong enough to fight, and, if the wolf he met last night was any indication, even a regular wolf from his pack wouldn't have a chance to escape. Trevor found himself eyeing the furs he had woken up in.
He sighed, shaking slightly. If I can't even check the door, I'm never going to make it out of this room--alive or otherwise.
He finished chewing the meat and swallowed some of the water. No time like the present.
Shifting had never been particularly painful for Trevor. He had heard that for some wolves, the pain was almost unbearable. A couple of the wolves he knew at home had chosen to live their lives as wolves just so they wouldn't be forced to shift when the full moon came. It wasn't like that for Trevor. For him, even as a child, it had been like slipping off one pair of clothes for the next. While the other pups had to be taught how to shift when they turned six, he had never had to learn. It was something that he had always been able to do. Maybe it was because there wasn't much of a difference in size between his wolf and his human form: while he had always been an average sized human, his wolf had always lagged behind. Even now in adulthood, he was still smaller than some of the older adolescents in his pack.
Having shifted, Trevor picked up the bucket of water and drank his fill. He stepped carefully up the stairs, careful not to make them creak any more than was necessary. When he reached the top, he turned the door handle.
Locked.
Of course it was. No pack is going to willingly let an unknown wolf wander around on their land—assuming this cellar was on another pack's land. A fresh sense of anxiety washed over him, and he climbed back down the stairs. They had given him food and water and a pile of furs to sleep in. How bad could they be?
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