Chapter 2

A sharp howl jolted the little woman out of a fitful sleep, causing her to come tumbling down from her place against the circle window. She righted herself with a groan, a bit peeved at the noisy animal. As she settled herself back amongst her blankets, another howl rose from the dark. In an instant, she was wide awake. That howl had been far too close to come from anywhere but her garden.

At a sprint, she leaped over the loft railing and landed easily on the cabin floor, not bothering with clothes or shoes, her knee-length, honey hair cast a trail in her wake, twirling like a dancer's ribbon. She erupted from the doorway and vaulted down the stairs, unimpeded by hesitation, until her bare feet met with the grass. As soon as they did, she was met with a cacophony of anguished cries. Beasts with ill intentions had invaded her garden, and when they were led astray by her loyal cork path, they had tried to tear their way out. Her will forked out, sapping her vast well of energy, flowing through the network of roots that sustained the life of her precious home.

The little woman willed away the pain of her companions, giving them what they needed to heal, allowing those closest to the wretched animals to take a little more. At her command, her faithful garden flung the interlopers onto her awaiting lawn. The mass furry limbs and tangled snarls were greeted by a burst of thick vines, surging from the earth to trap the mangy mutts. The sound of startled exclamations soon replaced the vicious growls, sending a righteous satisfaction directly to her chest. She stood, feet apart, hands-on-hips, chin up, shoulders back, waiting for the animals before her to calm so she could address them.

It was not a short wait, for when they noticed her, standing there with her hair shining like gold in the light of the moon, the pale length of her legs glowing from the same, her sleep shirt billowing in the cool night breeze, they became even louder. Guttural roars tore from their throats, struggles intensified. The little woman let out an impatient huff, knowing they would not be released unless and until she willed it, wishing they would recognize that fact, as well. Growing ever more impatient, the woman decided to grab a snack while she waited. Though her stomach was twisting with the anxiety of her four sudden, and very unwanted, house guests, she knew that the amount of energy she expended tonight would start to take a toll on her body soon. Her body would begin to burn its own resources to replenish the mana lost. She made her way up the steps and through the home quickly, fatigue creeping up like a summer storm.

Her wrists flicked the wooden shelves to life, willing them to toss down a few choice snacks, saved for just such an occasion. Two half-gallon glass jars of dehydrated fruits and nuts, accompanied by a gallon of whole milk from the icebox, and her very favorite pineapple teriyaki venison jerky. She left the house again, not bothering to close the door. She could already feel her energy waning, and she let out a small yawn, eager to dig into the food. The small table and matching chair that stood sentinel on one side of the deck followed her down the stairs, setting themselves up a good fifteen feet away from the sulking intruders. They watched as the woman laid out her treats. She hummed a quiet tune to herself and began with the dehydrated, honeyed cranberry cashews. The sweet, slightly sticky goodness went down easily and soothed some of her frazzled nerves. A happy sigh escaped her and she closed her eyes, leaning back easily in the chair, basking in the silvery light of the moon.

A frown formed on her face as a shadow was cast upon her prone visage. She let out a tired puff and slowly fluttered her eyes. Her breath chose that moment to flee her lungs, taking her good sense with it. Crouched over her was a ten-foot-tall, grizzled, warrior of a bearman. The beast peered down at her, meeting her vivid green eyes with his gold. A hand she hadn't seen move, was suddenly at her throat, not hurting, not choking, just getting a firm hold, his leathered thumb stroking a burning path up the column, forcing her to bare her neck. A feeling unlike any she had ever known was suddenly all she knew. It permeated every corner of her very soul. Pure light and energy seeped into her from the place he held, dissolving any trace of weariness or ache. Peace flowed through her mind, the feeling of absolute bliss intoxicated her. She fell limp in the chair, unable to even muster up an iota of self-preservation. She felt safer than she ever had, loving the feeling of being whole so much that she knew she could die happily this very instant.

A deep, sustained rumble came from the beast as it observed the serene smile on the tiny witch's face. It reverberated at a depth she didn't know her soul possessed, unknowingly luring her towards a quick and dreamless slumber. A big black ear twitched toward the sound of unfurling foliage. The soft, cautious steps of his pack let him know they had been freed.

Alpha? His werewolf Warmaster made his wariness known. The rust of his fur coming into view in the Alpha's peripheral, grey eyes flicked from bear to witch. Are you well?

Perfect, came his reply, his finger still stroking the soft, delicate flesh of his Given's neck. Look what the Goddess gave me, Goddard. So strong, so beautiful. I am blessed, brother. He spent a few more long seconds watching her breathe, drinking in her scent. His hand fell away, despite the burning need that urged him to stay connected with his witch, to never let her leave his sight. Duty, however, weighed heavily on his mind. He needed to address his weres and assess the situation.

A distressed mew stole his attention back, his Given lurching in her seat, the chair seeming to buck her up and into his arms. His claws tore into her flimsy shirt as he rushed to catch her, his heart rising to his throat at the prospect of injury inflicted by his hand. He waited with stalled breath until she settled against him, her steady heart giving him a sense of comfort. The heat that came from her soft skin along her ribs met the rough pads of his grizzly hands through the torn fabric. Carefully, he adjusted her in his arms, scooping her up at the thighs, and letting his big paw wrap around her waist, his claws resting gently on her stomach. His little witch gave a tiny sigh and rubbed her cheek against the fur on his chest.

The Alpha and his pack watched as the table and chair returned to their places on her porch. After that, the tension in the air dispersed. Animals went about their normal nights, plants swayed only in the night's breeze, and the shifters relaxed their guarded postures.

How were you able to escape the garden, Alpha? The important question was posed by the youngest member of his team, Jackson, the second son of the Beta family. He was only sixty, and though he had been on more than a few missions, he was still green around the ears compared to the rest.

The path, Betason. It knows your intentions. I came for help, the rest came guarded. It divided our ranks, and when you attacked, marked you as enemies, he cast his eyes over his pack members, observing the countenance of each, noting the mixture of embarrassment and shame. My witch could have killed you all. Lucky for you, she is gentle.

A chorus of "sorry, Alpha"s could be heard through the packlink. He gave a grunt, not forgiving, as that was not his decision, just letting them know he heard. My Given will hear that when she wakes, he told them. It was her night they interrupted, her garden they damaged, her energy they depleted. That last thought made him rub his cheek against the top of her head. It was time to put her to bed. He would show her, from the moment she woke, what a wonderful mate he would be for her. He would convince her that her place in life was beside him.

Make camp, he barked. No more problems tonight. He followed up that last order with a pointed glare directed at each of his pack. A timid chorus of congratulations reached his mind. The Alpha could feel the happiness and relief his family exuded. With a nod, he turned and made his way up the stairs to her house. A fleeting thought entered his mind and just before he entered, he gave the order to forgo a fire, as well. No need for them to cause any more damage his Given would need to expend precious resources to fix.

The scent of his witch was strong in her little home, and he followed the stairs to its source. He had to stoop as he climbed, the height of her home not used to accommodating his half form. Regardless, the wood held strong under his heavy steps and did not voice a complaint. He was pleased with the construction of her home. Everything was sound and sturdy. His chest warmed, knowing that his Given was living under safe conditions. He had also seen the state of her furniture and her current choice of clothing, it made him wonder if she was pressed for money. That will not be an issue anymore, he thought to himself. Anything that was his, he now shared with his female. Nothing was exempt from that rule. Anything she wanted, she would have. It was his job as her male to provide for her every whim.

When he reached the top of the loft he was enveloped by her scent. The earthy base of amber did things to parts of him best left ignored while his Given was sleeping, at least for now. The sweet vanilla that it was paired with setting his mind at ease. But it was the smell of soil soaked with fresh rain that really made him feel at home. He had heard stories about bears finding their halves. At the time, it had seemed too good to be true. Now, after experiencing the magic first hand, he realized that their words could not compare to the sensations he was experiencing. Being her Given was so much more than he could have imagined.

His only hope was when she woke up, she would feel the same way.

(A/N: Please consider looking into my Wattpad account under the same name, SageySagey, if you would like early chapter updates.)