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His girls. His little girls.
They rested their hands on his fur, chest, and face, their touches warm and soothing, making him want to nudge against them.
Instead, he held them close to his body.
Their small bodies fit against him like they were made for his embrace, and he was conscious of his strength. Something deep inside him—a primal instinct—knew he had to be gentle, and he was.
His Violet, his Powder, and his tiny one. His pack. They showed their teeth and smelled good, happy , so nothing mattered more than that. Not the prey lying on the floor, smelling weird. Not the prey that dared to attack his daughter, and he sent away. Not the prey that tormented him for years.
Vander bared his fangs, too, sharing their happiness. As long as he had his girls, it would be-
BOOM
His ears twitched sharply at the devastating noise, fur bristling as his body went rigid with alarm. Screams followed, horrific, of souls in suffering, and it hurt his ears, his insides, everything.
He is dead, he is dead, he is dead. It echoed in his brain. A part of him cried out because of it, the one that remembered soft smiles and touches, day and night with him, peace in the chaos of his thoughts. Another screamed, roared, and clawed to get out.
No, no, he wouldn’t. He needed his girls, they-
Left.
He looked around, whimpering when he didn’t find them. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
They weren’t here.
Find-Pack-Protect
Why weren’t they here?
Find-Pack-Protect
Why did they leave?!
Find-Pack-Protect
He had to. He had to be there. He had to track them down. He couldn’t…
He wouldn’t lose them again. He had to protect, he had to defend his pack, his girls, his cubs!
Mine-Mine-Mine
Vader opened his eyes, grunting as his body started to heat up, hotter and hotter, burning his insides out. Orange leaked from his skin, his claws, his mouth, everywhere, and it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t. And he couldn’t stop it.
The scent of his pack was there, a trail for him to follow, and he had to get to them.
Crawling out, he snarled when he saw the two prey next to his cubs. One stood close, too close , and the other laid wounded where he had thrown it. But his girls…
They smelled wrong. Fear, confusion, concern, he sensed it all, and it made the heat worse.
Pack-Safe-Mine
“Vander.” One of his cubs, Violet, little Vi, called for him, but he couldn’t control it.
Tears filled his eyes. They burned, burned, burned, and his girls smelled more and more wrong, wrong, so wrong. He threw up the orange, scratching the ground and trying to get it out so he could hold his cubs and keep them safe, but it wouldn’t leave him.
They looked at him in fear, tearing apart the rest of his heart, and he still couldn’t stop it for them.
Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t!
Pack-Needs-Mine
He threw his head back, roaring in anguish as orange exploded from his body. It burned more than anything, hurting over and over, and Vander… he couldn’t keep it under control anymore. He didn’t want to. He just wanted his girls.
Threat
His instincts warned him, immediately drawing his attention to the wounded prey crawling to its weapon. The one it used to hurt his daughter. The one that would have killed his cub.
Red took over his vision.
He growled and smashed the weapon, using his other hand to grab the prey-threat. For a moment, it stared at him, stinking with fear, eyes begging for mercy.
No-Mercy
Slamming it to the ground, it struggled against him, as his daughter had struggled for her life. That only ignited the fire inside of him. He raised his arms high and then down in a brutal arc, using his razor-sharp claws to slice through the prey-threat. Again and again, he slashed, each strike rending flesh and bone, the warm spray of blood bathing him.
Its futile struggle grew weaker with each wound until it finally lay still and lifeless, and he hurled it aside with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction, the remnants of his fury still coursing through him.
It would never harm his pack again. Never.
Vander raised his eyes to show it to his cubs, but then-
Threats
A hundred screams and scents swarmed towards them, gaining his complete focus. They were coming for his pack. For his girls. For his cubs.
Again.
Memories of forces taking his Violet and Powder away, shadows that had come for his Felicia and his Silco before, that had ripped him from his children. An uncontrollable fury grew inside of him the more he remembered of Vander, of weakness, of failing to defend his pack and leaving them to their luck.
Not-Again
Steps hammered against the earth. Preys approached them with weapons. His girls prepared to protect when they should be protected.
He hit the ground and roared in defiance. Driven by something beyond human in all senses, he stood his position.
Warwick and Vander became one for the first time.
Never-Again
The beast’s chest heaved, each breath a tempest as the scent of blood and fear filled the air. He saw red, a pulsating crimson that clouded his vision. It blinded him to everything but the threats.
None of them would touch his cubs.
A snarl tore from his throat, a primal sound that resonated with the turmoil inside him. His muscles coiled, rigid cords of power ready to spring into action, to protect, to destroy. The monster within him, once caged by the frail chains of humanity, now roamed free.
The first wave of attackers came at him. Fools. They were mere shadows of corpses. He snapped his fangs, sadistic satisfaction filling him as, with a speed that didn’t speak of his size, he lunged with the grace of a predator honed by his instincts.
Kill, kill, kill
It was all in his mind when his fangs, gleaming like ivory daggers, bared in a harbinger of death that cut through the air with lethal precision. Each movement was a testament to a force that would not be quenched until every threat was gone.
The first prey never saw it coming.
The beast’s jaws clamped around its neck with a vise-like grip, the crunch of bone and the gush of hot blood resonating in his ears. Victory was metallic on his tongue, an intoxicating flavor that only served to drive him deeper into a frenzy of destruction.
Kill, kill, kill
Another two dared to approach, and he swiped one with a clawed hand, rending flesh and fabric alike. The other, he put his claws through its skin, ripping off the lungs and heart. Their screams were a shrill melody to his ears.
They would suffer for threatening his pack. No one, not one prey, would be spared.
More came at him in droves, but they were nothing—less than nothing. The beast moved through them like a reaper, tearing through them with a precision born of desperation, an absolute need to safeguard his precious girls. Limbs flew, bodies crumpled, and the ground became a mosaic of gore.
All the lives he took were a statement, a declaration of war. They had dared to hurt his pack, and for that, they would pay with everything they had.
He gloried in the carnage, his hunger for destruction insatiable. With every fallen foe, his fury only grew, and he didn’t stop. They pierced his skin with their weapons, but they couldn’t do anything to him. He would destroy them all before failing his girls again.
Suddenly, a specific scream called his attention. It wasn’t from a prey. He turned his head to it, seeing his Violet screaming in pain through the red. And her blood… Warwick could smell it.
Hurt-Cub-Protect
The realization seared through him. They had drawn blood from one of his girls. The line was crossed.
With a guttural roar that shook the very earth, he launched himself at the preys with renewed vigor. His massive form was a blur, a force of nature unleashed upon those stupid enough to stand in his way. Claws rent, fangs tore, and bodies fell like leaves in a storm. The world around him was painted in shades of red, the coppery tang of blood filling his nostrils and fueling his rage.
He was a beast, they were prey, and they had hurt his Vi, drawn the sacred lifeblood from his little girl. It was a mistake they would not live to repeat.
In his blind fury, he did not hear the familiar voice calling out to him. It was only when he felt the impact of his own hand, when he heard the sharp cry of pain from his Powder, that he was jarred back to reality.
Panting, he looked down to see his precious girl sprawled on the ground, a look of confusion and fear in her eyes. The sight of it was a punch to his gut, a cold splash of water that doused the flames driving him.
Horror flooded through him, a tidal wave that swept away the mindless beast and left only a broken father in its wake.
“Powder!” His raw, anguished cry echoed across the battlefield.
He had hurt one of his cubs. He had laid his hands on her. The realization was a knife in his heart, twisting with every beat, a relentless agony that threatened to consume him. He had failed them again, and this time, their pain came from him—a bitter irony that made the beast whimper.
It wouldn’t happen again, it wouldn’t, he wouldn’t let it!
Mine-Mine-Mine
The word echoed with a resonance that sliced through the mess of his mind, a place where the relentless craving for flesh and blood gnawed incessantly at its confines. They clawed and clawed and clawed, wanting more and more, but it was stronger than it all.
Roaring in despair, he surged towards his daughters, cutting a swathe through the remaining prey. His only thought was to reach them, to protect them, and make sure they were safe, and he would not fail his Powder and Violet again.
Mine-Mine-Mine
Their scent guided him, a bright trail among the red. Step by step, he cleared the path, a shield against the onslaught until the only prey was either running away or the one that smelled like his Violet. Shaking his head, he rid himself of the urge to rip it to pieces.
He had one goal, and nothing would stop him.
That was what he thought, but then he caught a tiny form from the corner of his eyes right before having to halt not to crush it. He snarled, hitting the ground.
“No, Vander, no!” His Powder screamed, quickly crawling to them, but he couldn’t focus on her.
What dared to stand in his way to one of his cubs? Leaning down, he stared at the-
His sight sharpened when he recognized her.
Tiny one!
He almost forgot of the one who smelled like his Powder, the most recent piece of his pack. Vander’s heart, a drum of fury and anguish, skipped a beat as he watched the child standing defiantly between him and his Powder. Her small body trembled, but her eyes held a defiance that reminded him so much of his Violet.
It wasn’t right, it wasn’t!
He lowered himself further, making itself smaller near the tiny one, but he was careful, so careful. His snout brushed against her, a gentle nudge that spoke all he couldn’t. It was an apology and a silent vow to protect her at all costs.
Her hands, so small against his fur, reached up to cup his face. Her fingers were sticky with blood, but the way she shoed her teeth was radiant.
“Oh shit, I thought…” Powder’s voice, tinged with concern, prickled his ears. “You two will give me a heart attack.” She approached, her hand rising to wipe the blood that trickled from her nose.
It twisted his insides with guilt.
“Cub. Sorry, cub,” he murmured, nuzzling her in a silent plea for forgiveness.
He couldn’t speak her language with ease, but he hoped she understood.
Her laughter, so full of life despite the circumstances, wrapped around him like an embrace. “Oh, this?” His Powder’s hand brushed away the rest of the blood, her smile wild and untamed. “I got much worse, Dad.”
His fangs snapped reflexively at the threat, real or imagined, that dared to harm his girl. The action elicited a bright giggle from his Powder and a wide-eyed stare from the tiny one, the comfort of their presence relaxing him a bit.
But then, the absence hit him like a physical blow.
Violet, Vi, his cub. Where was she? His gaze darted around, searching for her amidst the carnage. She was not with his Powder or with the child, and she was hurt, bleeding, wounded.
He had to get to her. Panic lumped in his throat, a desperate need to ensure she was safe taking hold of him.
“Vi!” The roar that tore from his throat begged for his daughter to appear.
Vander shuddered, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he looked around for the missing part of his pack. His ears perked up, straining to catch any sound that might lead him to her, and his nostrils flared when he sniffed the air until-
There! The unmistakable scent of his Violet cut through the metallic tang of blood that took over the field.
He turned his head, eyes scanning the chaos until they landed on his girl. His Violet was huddled against the prey that smelled like her, clutching her belly and panting heavily. Her injury dropped his stomach. The beast wanted to charge, to tear apart that prey and any other near her, but he stopped himself.
His cub needed safety from him, not his fury.
With a gentleness that belied his form, he moved towards her, cautious not to scare her with his appearance or the lingering bloodlust that clung to him like a second skin.
“Vander…” She was shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, but alive.
“Vi.” Her prey muttered, holding his daughter closer to her body. “I’m not sure-“
He growled at her, a warning. If she planned to keep his cub away from him, she would meet the same fate as the other prey.
“It’s okay, dad.” His Violet shook her head, glancing between them. “She is my-“ A pause. He prepared to attack depending on her answer. “She isn’t a threat.”
Good.
He puffed between clenched fangs at the prey, whose eyes widened as she took a step back, keeping her hand around his Vi’s waist. He decided to ignore her for now.
His clawed hands were delicate despite their size and potential for destruction. He reached out, brushing his cub’s cheek with the back of his hand, staining it with the blood of his hunt in a possessive, affectionate touch.
“Violet,” he murmured, a low rumble.
Brimming with relief, she faced him and offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent signal of trust that allowed him to gather her into his arms. As he lifted her, the tension in her body eased, and she nestled against his chest, fitting into the protective embrace as if she were little once more.
“Looking pretty rough, sister.” His Powder said and showed her teeth, tilting her head while the tiny one ran to them.
“Not now, Jinx.” His Violet grunted in his arms, confusing him.
Jinx? Why did she call Powder like that as if it was her name?
He shook his head. It didn’t matter in this instance, not when he had to take them to his den first.
As he cradled his Violet, he noticed that she was fixed on something behind him. Following her line of sight, he saw her prey holding her weapon next to her body and glaring at his younger daughter. She had... fury in her smell. The type that drove him to defend his pack.
“What? You really wanna do this now, cupcake ?” His Powder’s voice was laced with defiance, her fingers dancing along the trigger of her own weapon with an ease that spoke of familiarity.
The tiny one, mimicking her, stuck out her tongue with a cheeky grin that was adorable. Despite the bravado, there was a flicker of something else in his Powder—a shadow of regret.
“Maybe I do.” The possible mate snarled at them, her body coiled like a spring. Her narrowed eyes locked onto his younger daughter, igniting a spark of alarm within him.
His growl rumbled through his ribs as he held his Violet tighter, looking between the two women. Confusion clouded his thoughts. He saw his Powder save her before his instincts ultimately awoke when his cub was hurt, so why did they seem like threats to each other?
“See?” She leaned onto his arm, her weight a comforting pressure against his fur as she patted him, “You can try, but unless you have a plan to go through the big guy here before you even get to me, I suggest you stay down.”
His Violet’s prey grew rigid, her grip on her weapon tightening until her knuckles became white. The air crackled with anticipation, a silent storm brewing on the battlefield. His muscles bunched in reaction, getting ready for him to protect his pack if needed.
“Stop…” His Violet’s soft plea cut through the escalating tension like a knife. Instantly, all of them turned to her, even the tiny one perched on his arm, her focus riveted on her pack companion.
A whimper slipped from him as he nuzzled his cub’s cheek, the fragile warmth of her skin a stark reminder of her frailty. He closed his eyes, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was capable of absorbing her pain,of bearing her suffering and make it his own. She offered him a weak glimpse of her teeth, her hand feebly grasping one of his fingers.
The need to get her to safety became overwhelming. This was no place for a wounded cub. He needed to find a den, safe and warm, where she could heal and rest with their pack.
He turned his attention back to the possible mate, studying her. She favored one leg, and her weapon, though held with confidence, was more for show than anything else in her current state. The fatigue etched into the lines of her face was obvious, but the way she leaned slightly to his Violet said enough of what he needed.
“We leave,” he stated firmly, his focus never leaving her. “Vi needs us.”
She hesitated, focusing on the form in his arms. Her gaze softened for a moment before she met his stare, and her body relaxed a bit.
His Powder, looking at Violet, sighed before lowering her weapon.
This was better.
With a final glance at his girls and the possible mate, Vander turned to the smell of home that had guided him before. His enormous body shielded his Violet as he began to leave the battlefield.
“Seems like they ran away like little bitches, after all.” His Powder chuckled, something filled with disgust.
He shared it. Those who hurt his pack deserved nothing less.
“Ambessa doesn’t run away. If she retreated, she will come back with greater forces.” He heard his Violet’s prey say, keeping ‘Ambessa’ in his mind.
A threat worth a name had to be destroyed.
“Let her. We will be ready.”
He resonated with a growl of retribution.
After that, the journey to the den was fraught with tension, each step echoing the heavy silence that had fallen over them. He continued vigilant, closely in sync to his senses for any dangers.
His Powder strolled beside him, her usual exuberance replaced by a quiet concern that was far more telling than any words. The tiny one trailed quietly next to them, her small hand clutching his Powder’s.
Staying behind, the possible mate walked in his shadow, a nervous presence.
“Oh, this place? You must really like it, dad.” His Powder said softly when they arrived at the path to the den, clapping to illuminate the area.
The underground labyrinth was a warren of tunnels and chambers, each one having served its purpose when this was the crux of his existence—whether for rest, storage, or just a quiet corner to think with his Silco. The walls, full of bubbles that weren’t there back then, had brought light to his memories since he returned.
Here, in the heart of the earth, he and his Silco had forged alliances, hatched plans, and shared dreams. The cool, musty air carried whispers of their past, echoes of laughter and debate that seemed to linger in the shadowy corners. It was a sanctuary that had sheltered their aspirations and tragedies.
They descended, closer and closer, claps from his Powder and his tiny one accompanying them. The continuous sounds mirrored Violet’s heavy breaths, urging him to be home quicker. Finally, they stood at the wide entrance of the den.
Inside, tables lay on the ground, their surfaces scarred by the weight of weapons and mining material. Chairs were upside down, and books and papers were scattered haphazardly.
But at the heart of this chaos, there was order. Once he had encountered his Powder, he had crafted it with care, a nest of furs and blankets to offer warmth and comfort, a beacon of safety in a world that had shown his girls little but cruelty. It was large, big enough to accommodate his great body for cuddling and protection.
Cuddle-Protect-Mine
With the most tenderness he could muster, he placed his Violet upon it, a quiet sigh slipping from her lips as she nestled into the fur. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the creases of anguish carved into her features easing away as fatigue claimed her.
“You did this?” It echoed through the den as his Powder gestured at the nest.
Vander nodded, gauging her reaction. What he had built was nothing compared to what they deserved, but it was a start. He hoped she would approve of it.
“It’s pretty nice for a giant furball that just came back from the dead.” Her words were laced with a teasing lightness, but there was a warmth in it telling him she appreciated his efforts. His tiny one nodded vigorously in support.
He didn’t quite grasp the full meaning of what she said, but the sentiment was clear. She was happy with what he had done, and that was all that mattered. He showed his teeth in response, drawing a soft laugh from his Powder.
Protect-Provide-Pack
He almost forgot the possible mate until he noticed her lingering at the entrance. She watched them with wariness, but also a sense of respect, a recognition of something.
He sighed, moving to her, his steps mindful but his intentions clear. She had to understand, to accept that if she intended to be his Violet’s mate, she would have a place in the pack once approved, and no fighting was allowed. He towered over her smaller stature, and she stiffened, her grip on her weapon tightening, but she did not back down.
With a low growl, he reached out, his hand closing around the weapon. He did not take it from her but rather guided it down, a request for peace within the walls of his den. She tensed, but after a few moments, she relented and allowed him to lower it.
It was an act of trust that he appreciated.
“Stay. For Vi,” he grunted, the command coming from a place of necessity, not dominance.
She nodded and carefully passed by him, heading towards his Violet. In the middle of the way, she and Powder started talking, hostility still in their tones as they discussed something about supplies, but he turned it off, walking back to the nest.
There, he cautiously maneuvered his large frame beside his cub, his movements deliberate so as not to disturb her. Gently wrapping himself around her small form, he snuggled her. His only concern was her wound, but his Powder seemed to be on it, and he trusted her to do what he couldn’t.
Comfort-Protect-Mine
That was all he could offer, and he wouldn’t fail on that.
A ruffle on the edge of the nest caught Vander’s attention. His heart swelled when he spotted his tiny one struggling to clamber into the warm haven. Her hat wobbled precariously on her head, almost slipping off.
Before he could reach out to help her, though, she finally hoisted herself atop of it, triumph lighting up her face. Pride filled him. His girls were so clever and resilient.
He gestured with his claws for her to come closer, and she beamed at him before reaching for his finger for support. With determination, she inched nearer and settled beside Violet. She studied her pack companion with an earnest expression, brushing a stray strand of hair off Violet’s forehead before hesitating to reach for her loose hand.
Vander nodded in approval, warmth blooming in his heart as he watched her hold it. This reminded him of when his cubs were just as small—always the fighters, although he should have done more to protect them enough, so that wasn’t needed.
Memories invaded his mind uninvited, of two boys wrestling on the ground, laughter ringing through the air while his Powder and his Ekko twirled with grace, their spirits as bright as ever as his Violet trained next to him.
The pain hit him like a physical blow. He shook his head to clear it; he had lost Claggor and Mylo, but his Ekko…
He was still out there. It didn’t matter how grown up he was, he was still his child.
So first, he would ensure the safety of his pack; then, he would come for his boy and bring him back home, where he belonged with them.
Mine-Mine-Mine
Satisfied with that thought, Vander let out a heavy sigh and wrapped his arm around both girls, drawing them to him as he closed his eyes. He focused on their presence and the rhythm of their breaths filling the space surrounding him.
Time seemed to slow down as he lay there, his senses attuned to every sound and movement within the den. He listened to his Powder’s footsteps as she explored their new home and heard the soft ‘awww’ she made at the tiny one and his Violet holding hands. He could smell the faint trace of uncertainty coming from the possible mate as she left the den, but he allowed both things.
He knew his cub couldn’t stay quiet for too long, and if the possible mate betrayed them in any way…
Well, he would deal with her.
Soon, she returned, laden with supplies, and he opened his eyes to face her.
She stood at the edge of the nest, her gaze meeting his as she sought silent permission to approach. He huffed out a breath, moving his hand to make room for her. She seemed to swallow any uncertainty as she sat on the other side of his Violet, inhaling deeply as her hands began to work, cleaning and dressing the wound with a gentleness that surprised him.
His Powder and the tiny one watched her every move, wary and suspicious, sharing a cute frown between their eyebrows. He almost didn’t stop himself from cuddling them right then.
Mine-Cubs-Mine
When the possible mate was done, her touch lingered on his Violet’s belly, enough for his Powder to make an exaggerated disgusted noise and his tiny one to laugh at it. He chuffed softly, a sound that was part growl, part purr, amused.
It was good to see that his cub didn’t lose her spirit.
His Violet’s prey sighed, taking the supplies and settling on a chair near the door with her weapon. He understood the need to be on guard more than anyone, and she smelled umcomfortable near them, so he left her to be.
Turning back to his Violet, he inhaled deeply, her scent a balm to his frayed nerves. The blood smell was still there, a stark reminder of her injury, but it was fainter now, overshadowed by something underlying that was uniquely hers. He nuzzled her gently, letting out a low, rumbling purr of contentment.
She was stable, and for now, that was enough.
“She is the toughest,” his Powder said as she lay next to his tiny one and draped her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders, pulling her close so they both leaned against his side. “Vi will be okay, dad.” Her fingers brushed against his arm, a light, affectionate touch that sent a ripple of comfort through his body.
He nodded, leaning into the contact.
With his girls nestled against him, his instincts were thrilled with a primal satisfaction. This was where they were meant to be—together, safe within the walls of their den, enveloped by the warmth of their collective heat and his presence. The weight of his past failures, the guilt that had gnawed at him for years, seemed to lift, if only for a moment.
Here, now, he had the power to secure his cubs like he had not been able to when they were younger, and nothing could surpass that.
As the need to rest descended upon his girls, Vander watched them with awe and wonder. Every detail held his focus: the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests, the slight twitch of their features as they dreamed, the way their bodies instinctively sought each other out for comfort, even in the depths of sleep.
The tiny one was curled on Violet, her small hand clutched in a loose grip on hers. Meanwhile, Powder’s head rested on his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his neck, and her arm wrapped around the two girls.
It was strange to think that his girls were once the little children he remembered, of how much he had lost, but he would fix that. He would be there for them like he couldn’t before, and no mercy would find their enemies when he tore them apart one by one. Letting out a puff, he kept his fury down for now.
As the night deepened, he remained with his senses tuned to the sounds of the den and the steady heartbeats of his cubs as the possible mate sat silently by the door. Eventually, he closed his eyes and let the quiet rhythm of their breathing lull him into a state of restful watchfulness.
The weight of their situation was not lost on him, but for tonight, they were safe, they were together, and that was all that mattered.
For the first time in a long time, Warwick wasn’t just a monster.