Too much rogue is a
sign of despair.
Arlene Dahl.
Duncan Conell was a rogue, he had been a rogue ever since his idiot father had challenged their Alpha and had lost. The Alpha had killed Duncan’s father and he and his mother had no choice but to run, making it over to England by way of the ferry from Dublin to Heysham. His mother hadn’t lasted long once they were safe on the mainland, pining for her dead mate, Duncan had woken one morning in the forest where they were sleeping rough to find her dead, the grief taking her at some point during the night. Like the dutiful son he buried her in the forest and doing the best he could, he marked her grave with some flowers and greenery he found lying around, Duncan was no more than fifteen years old. Being rogue at such a young age should have been hard but Duncan revelled in the freedom, the freedom from his father’s fists, his mother’s drinking and her reliance on him, he felt free.
For the next seventeen years Duncan enjoyed all the freedoms being a rogue offered, he ate when he wanted, slept when and with whoever he wanted. If he needed money he robbed people or burgled houses. Being a wolf definitely had its benefits, he was strong, quick and whatever area he was in, he became a one man crime wave. Quite often, when the weather was bad or he was tired of sleeping rough, he would use his good looks and impressive physique to charm whatever girl he met at the many bars he frequented and would persuade her to allow him to stay with her for a while. A hot shower and some decent food were always welcome but he could never stay still for long. As soon as the spring arrived he would move on, travelling the country on foot towards his next unsuspecting victims.
Duncan’s life changed entirely that summer. Whilst wandering through the Midlands just south of Birmingham, he met her, his Goddess given mate. As soon as he picked up her scent, his wolf Fael started pushing him towards the source and then he saw her. He was pleased that it looked like she was looking for him too, their eyes met and they stared at each other for the longest time, Duncan could barely breathe, it looked like she was a rogue too he noticed with interest.
“Mate.” said Fael in Duncan’s head.
The she- wolf started to walk towards him but there was a railway line between them. Duncan watched as she made her way down the banking towards the tracks, he dropped his rucksack to the floor as his legs moved of their own accord to go and meet her. His heart swelled, he had found his mate, the one wolf on the planet made just for him, maybe he didn’t have to be alone all the time, maybe they could find somewhere to live and you know, just be normal, the possibilities were endless.
He reached the bottom of the banking on his side of the track at the same time she reached hers, she smiled at him and they didn’t take their eyes off each other for a second, everything else around them disappeared as their wolves honed in on each other. They were so caught up in the mate bond that neither of them noticed the train until it was too late, even their enhanced hearing provided by their wolves didn’t help them because their wolves attention was so focussed on each other. Just as Duncan was about to take his first step on the railway lines the train swooped into his vision and in a heart stopping moment slammed into his mate, and then she was gone. Duncan stayed frozen to the spot with his eyes squeezed shut until the train passed, his long dark hair and jacket dragged out to the side from the draught of the speeding train. The train finally passed and with his heart stuttering in his chest, he slowly open his eyes to see parts of his beautiful mate scattered around further up the track. Duncan sank down onto the banking, utterly broken, he hadn’t even got to know her name. For a few seconds he had envisioned a better life for himself, something other than robbing and fucking, and now it was gone, literally snatched away before his eyes. He dragged himself back up the banking on his hands and knees and slumped to the ground where he stayed for the next few days, his body and mind completely shut down.
When he regained his senses he realized two things, first it was raining and two, there was someone leaning over him shaking his arm. He struggled to focus his eyes as a face came into view, he heard voices talking to each other but he couldn’t work out what they were saying. He felt hands lifting him up but he didn’t fight, he didn’t care enough to be bothered about what was happening to him, he just didn’t wanted to live anymore.
“Just let me die.” he whispered hoarsely.
“Not today my son.” replied a soft voice.
Duncan felt himself drift off into the oblivion of unconsciousness and for the first time in his life he prayed to the Goddess, he prayed he would never wake up.
Light filtered into the room as Duncan struggled to open his eyes. Blinking a few times to focus, he was disappointed to realise he wasn’t dead. He tried to move his arms but he found he had tubes running out of him, he felt around for Fael but he was gone. Duncan took a breath and scented wolves, lots of wolves, he panicked, where the fuck was he? He started to flail around trying to get up, kicking the crisp white sheets off and knocking something metal over sending it crashing to the ground.
“Relax son.” said a calming voice with a soft Scottish accent. Duncan relaxed as a hand touched his shoulder.
Duncan stilled, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice husky from dehydration.
“Safe.” said the voice.
Duncan turned his head and found himself looking at a huge middle aged wolf in suit pants and a pristine white shirt. His brown hair was swept back and his blue eyes bore into Duncan’s. It was odd but something deep inside Duncan told him he could trust this man.
“I’m a rogue.” forced Duncan, swallowing, his throat feeling raw and scratchy.
“I know.” said the man turning away from Duncan and pouring him some water from a jug.
Duncan blinked as the man turned away from him and he saw the back of his shirt. On the back of what looked like a perfectly normal white dress shirt was a large red cross, the horizontal bar was directly across the middle of the vertical one and each ‘leg’ of the cross flared out at the ends. Before Duncan could ask anything, the man turned back around and handed him the glass of water. As he took the glass Duncan saw strange tattoos on the man hands, weird symbols which twisted up his hands, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt.
He took the water and gratefully gulped it down wondering just who in the hell these wolves were. They smelt like a pack and he was a rogue, any other pack would have killed him on sight.
“I’m Brother Andrew.” said the man.
“Duncan.” croaked Duncan, his faint Irish accent recognisable despite his dry throat.
Andrew nodded once in acknowledgement and passed Duncan some clean blue jeans and a white t shirt.
“Get dressed and we’ll go and get some food.”