An Elder's Approval

A deafening silence fell on the harbor, as if everything had come to a standstill. Workers who had been moving wooden boxes and bags stopped mid-movement, whereas the crowd seemed to forget how to breathe. The only sounds that remained were distant chatter and everyday noises from the town, and the sound of waves crashing against the docks and ships. Even Jawe didn't dare to utter a word, sensing something was amiss. There was one person, however, who didn't give a damn and replied to Allen, his tone scornful and mocking.

"And what do you think is going on?" Nyell rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed. "I'm causing trouble, of course. What else did you expect me to do?"

At those words, Nyell could hear people suck in a deep breath or gasp in surprise. But that was to be expected. The werewolf society typically adhered to strict rules, and it was common courtesy to bow and show respect to those positioned high in the hierarchy. Even Nyell's father, who was easy-going, wouldn't tolerate such impertinence. With that in mind, it was no wonder Jawed looked at him as if he were a madman.

To begin with, disrespecting Allen and acting like a smartass rarely ended well for the offender: the Lord of the White Moon land was known for his strict ruling and harsh punishments. Thinking of such previous encounters, some bystanders' eyes started to sparkle with glee, waiting for the ignorant youngster to get a reality check. So what if he was from a foreign land? There were customs to respect after setting foot in someone else's territory. It was basic decency. 

Ah, the poor lad! Just because he seemed stronger than the average, did he believe he was above everyone? No matter how strong he thought he was, he couldn't be as strong as Myrven or Layla. These two were monstrous beings whose prowess exceeded them, and if ordered, they could bring anyone to their knees. They were one of the main reasons behind Allen's fearsome reputation. How could they not bow to a man who could tame such powerful beings and was keeping them on a leash? No one had truly seen just how strong Allen was, but they knew better than to poke the hornet's nest. The God of their tribe had chosen him as their leader for a reason, and those whose survival instinct was relatively intact would rather not find out exactly why.

But unexpectedly, Allen acted in a way no one could have predicted: he chuckled. A soft smile stretched his lips, curving his mesmerizing eyes into crescent moons. He said nothing and gently beckoned Nyell to come over. 

"What am I? A dog?" Nyell clicked his tongue but complied, silently amused by the shocked faces he saw throughout the crowd. Jawe's look of utter incomprehension, in particular, brought infinite joy to his heart. Still, Nyell didn't comment or let his amusement show as he swiftly climbed the haul of the ship, pulling his body up next to where Allen was propping himself. He nonchalantly sat by his side on the railing. He then glanced at the shaman and threatened, "If you keep treating me like a dog, I'm going to bite you one of these days."

"Whether I treat you like a dog or not," Allen shrugged, " I'm pretty sure you'll bite me if given the chance. You're not exactly what I'd call a gentle soul."

"Guilty as charged."

While Allen and Nyell bantered, those who didn't know better had their worldview turned upside down. To say that they were frightened by their chief's display of playful affection would be an understatement. No one could make heads or tails of what was happening, and troubled faces looked at each other. Had the previous few weeks been so stressful that they were now hallucinating? As the thought crossed their mind, they saw the guard who had previously been thrown in the water pulling himself up on a dock. He appeared as disoriented as they were when his eyes caught sight of his unconscious colleague and his Lord. And most of all, why was the man he attacked sitting next to him…?

"So, what happened?" Allen asked again, his tone soft and caring.

"Why are you asking when you already know?" Nyell snorted but nevertheless answered. "That old geezer was bullying Miell's crewmate, so I got annoyed and prevented his guards from beating up the poor lad. My intervention didn't seem to settle well with them, and the old man ordered his cronies to get me. I acted in self-defense, that's all."

"I guess you really did act in self-defense," Myrven chimed in, while Layla nodded in agreement by his side. Although Nyell wasn't sure if she genuinely understood what she was agreeing to. "If you had been serious, the three of them would be bloody messes by now, wouldn't they?"

"Well, yeah, probably? I mean, I went easy on them, and yet… But hear me out! I didn't expect your guards to be so much weaker than your hunters. If I had known, I'd have been more delicate when handling them! Still, it's a little off-putting, to be honest."

Allen shook his head slightly, appearing amused. He finally decided to correct Nyell's misunderstanding. "What you call 'hunters' are, in fact, our best warriors. We can't let untrained or ordinary werewolves venture into the jungle, or they would die. And even then, they have strict orders regarding which territories they can and cannot explore. You should know better than anyone how dangerous the jungle is."

A frown creased his brow as Nyell pondered over Allen's words. He had lived all of his life in the jungle, so his impression of it might be very different from the White Moon tribe. It was dangerous, yes, but not uninhabitable. He had been taught how to survive there from a young age and knew how to handle most beasts. They each had their forces and weaknesses, and he only had to act accordingly. Of course, some were too voracious to tackle, and it was better to steer clear of them. But even then, every member of the Black Moon tribe was taught how to escape and quickly find shelter. It was something every tribe in the jungle did, so he mistakenly thought that the White Moon tribe did as well. However, they did not need to, as their settlement was free from the jungle's dangers. Unless the members of the White Moon tribe passed through the mountain to the other side, they would never encounter a single beast in their lifetime. As such, they had more pressing matters to attend to than learning about survival in the jungle.

"My Lord," Jawe eventually got a grip and spoke up, eyeing Nyell with a faint trace of fear. Except for those who were slow, everyone understood the underlying meaning behind Allen's words: this young man was from the jungle, and they were close to each other. Even so, Jawe pretended not to have realized and asked the obvious, disregarding the previous accusations thrown his way, "Do you know this young man?"

"Do I now?" Allen replied with a cold smile, sending shivers down the bystanders' spines, before clarifying, "I met him while tackling some problems in the jungle and brought him back. Is there a problem?"

"My Lord!" Jawe fumbled and quite shamelessly nitpicked in front of everyone, as if to assert his authority over the tribal chief as an elder, "You cannot bring back strangers to our land from the jungle without our approval! Especially in the current situation…"

Nyell couldn't help it anymore and laughed, cutting off whatever more nonsense the elder was about to spout. This was ridiculous. No matter the tribe, the elders were annoying, whining brats, weren't they? They were old branches who thought of themselves as the wisest, yet tried to crush the youngsters under their authority because of a sense of inferiority complex. Or at least, that was Nyell's opinion. And thanks to what his elders had done in his tribe, he had no patience left for others. The anger due to the ordeal his people had gone through hadn't yet subsided, and if he could vent his frustration on an arrogant fool, he certainly would. Thus, Nyell turned his attention to Allen and smiled mischievously, which gave the shaman a heads-up about what he was about to say. Then, his following words resounded like thunder in everyone's ears.

"Do you seriously need the elders' approval to drag your fated mate back to your tribe? I thought that stuff was sacred here, and that no one had the right to meddle in it. Well, at least, Lapis mentioned something akin to that, if I remember well."

"Don't say drag, will you?" Allen half-sighed, half-laughed. Really, when Nyell was annoyed, he didn't mince his words and didn't mind shoving the truth in people's faces, regardless of his personal feelings about that said truth. "But no, I don't need their approval. Fated mates are sacred, and a matter in which no one, not even I, has the right to intervene in."

"Then, there's no problem, right?" Nyell's smile grew deeper as his cold green eyes fell back on Jawe, whose face had grown livid. It was an interesting reaction that made him want to twist the knife, so he very naturally put a hand on Allen's shoulder before leaning his head against it, creating an intimate image that was burned in people's eyes. Of course, they weren't that close, but Nyell was petty and wanted to make his point come across. He also knew Allen wouldn't mind the sudden proximity. In fact, Nyell had a hunch that if he let the shaman have his way, he would have no personal space left. Werewolves were typically clingy toward their mates, regardless of the time and place, after all.