A Wolf Among The Sheep

During her restless slumber, Clarissa had the opportunity to finally have the privacy she longed for once she could tell everyone else was deep in their own sleep. She was able to shed a few tears for everything she had lost that day - her sister, her village, the life that she once new, the lie that she once lived... the normalcy of it all. Unfortunately she also needed the toilet during the night, which forced her up and out of the hut for a short amount of time. Although in hindsight she should have woken Anders or Daisy to ask where to find it. So she wandered aimlessly for a moment in the night, trying to find an outhouse or something similar. Eventually finding it, she also found some herbs that her mother had taught her once could help with pain. So she picked some to keep safe, knowing from the aches that were already beginning at that point, that she would hurt in the morning.

A part of her also wanted to give some to Tate... in case his arm still hurt.

At the chaos that ensued in the morning, Clarissa groaned softly and rolled over so her face could press into the pillow she had been given with the bunk. It was only when she noticed the difference in smell that filled both the room and the pillow, did everything come flooding back. There were a few damp patches on the pillow, reminding her of the tears she allowed to escape during the night. She made sure to flip it quietly to make sure no one else would notice. While everyone jostled for position at the sink, which then made her realise that they may have had a toilet inside the hut, she continued to lie in her new bed. Wrapped up in the blanket and eyes staring at the wall as she attempted to process everything from the day before.

Her fingers drifted to her jaw, which was still slightly tender from Tate's hold yesterday. Then to the hip she felt she may have bruised, which turned out to feel worse than her jaw. Overall her bones ached, a mixture of the ache one experienced with the flu and the pains when growing. Clarissa put it down to being dragged by the wolves yesterday.

Her hand stilled at the sound of the door opening, the silence that came with it confirming who she believed it to be. His scent reached her before anyone dared to speak, and she closed her eyes at the prospect of another verbal battle with him throughout the day. The muscles in her shoulders tightened at his snap back to Lyle and she squeezed her eyes with a soft sight. Her ears strained to listen to his movements, taking in the measured strides he took to approach her.

Clarissa didn't allow him to shake her for long, catching his wrist to stop him from doing so. Her hold was gentle and she turned her head to look at him so he could see she didn't mean any harm. "Alright... alright." She sighed, releasing his wrist and sitting up, "Give me two minutes... I won't be long." She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, hopping down shortly afterwards. Clarissa turned to squeeze past Chester and Lyle to reach the sink. The two looked to one another before looking back at their elder brother, waiting for his reaction if he gave one at all.

Once splashing her face with some cold water and brushing her teeth with what they had to offer and her finger, since she had no brush, Clarissa ran her fingers through her hair to tame the bedhead. Reluctantly she gathered the herbs she had picked in the night, popping some of the leaves in her mouth to chew on, leaving the others behind to find Tate.
 
The other's response by grabbing his wrist did elicit various reactions amongst the siblings observing the interaction - Anders held his breath in fear of another violent confrontation while Daisy's jaw clenched, ready to launch into a staunch defence of the other girl if her eldest brother's reprimand bordered on the harsh and cruel. Given his past experiences with Clarissa, that was hardly an unfounded concern to harbour.

And yet, though Clarissa had laid a hand on him -however non-violent and gentle the hold had been- and Tate had shouted fiercely at a lot of people for doing a hell of a lot less, the alpha retreated a few steps without a word about the incident. He could have quite easily pounced into another fierce verbal attack if he chose to, but he didn't. If he was honest with himself, it hadn't even crossed his mind to chastise Clarissa when he would have done so had anyone else laid their grip on his wrist like that.

He could have easily lost his patience when remnants of anger remained after her tirade of insults the night before. Being attacked when he had attempted to be comforting hadn't been an easy thing to sit through and in the end, of course, he couldn't handle sitting there for more than a few seconds after the outburst. He was angry at her for thinking she had a right to speak to him like that and angry at himself for allowing her to get away with such behaviour without immediately correcting her. He was even angrier at the fact that it had upset him so much, finding such emotions present in him confusing and unwanted. He felt vulnerable when he was upset, and that didn't feel like the mindset of a leader.

But the sadness had grown and become unavoidable to ignore., forcing him to spend the night examining just why he was having such a reaction to Clarissa. None of it made sense to him; to have grown to upset over an insult when his automatic reaction in those circumstances was to brush it off and punish whoever had the audacity to call him such names. No such desire had been present in him in that moment, feeling nothing but a swirl of sadness - and even after hours of thinking about it, he couldn't understand why that had happened. And nor did he understand why his first reaction upon entering the hut that morning had been to pick out Clarissa's scent and acknowledge how comforting it was to him; how drawn in by it he had been.

He hurried from the hut the moment he could to avoid his siblings picking up on the faint smile that dared to show itself on his face at the sight of Clarissa moving about the home as though she had lived there her entire life. Seeing her mingle with his family, her scent mixing in with theirs, did bring him pride as an alpha, and hope that she could integrate amongst them with little trouble. But beyond that, on some instinctive level, seeing Clarissa mix in with his family pleased him more than words could express - and that was something he forced himself to ignore the moment he became aware of that particular emotion.

"...Nice of 'ya to show up; I was getting pissed off waiting for 'ya. Was going to drag you down here but I reckoned that might bring back some uncomfortable memories," the alpha drawled as he beckoned the girl close, having settled beside the currently empty fireside. Werewolves would emerge from their huts to commence with breakfast in a little while, but for now, Tate had the fireside to himself and it seemed unwise to waste the moment alone when he could talk with Clarissa without intrusion or interruption. Taking her to his hut would guarantee privacy, but he didn't accept any visits to his home... and inviting Clarissa along would only encourage gossip about her. He wanted her to blend in; not stand out for the wrong reasons.

"Good night's sleep, then? I was gonna get you a hut for yourself, but I guessed you might not accept the help of an arsehole," he continued as he poked absently at the growing fire. He had to be bigger than he was acting, but he couldn't help but leave a petty remark in reference to the discussion the night before, unable to resist the temptation of it. "...Besides. You seem to like my siblings so it all worked out well in the end anyway."
 
"Here."

Clarissa, sitting beside him, turned slightly toward him, took one of his hands. She was uncaring for now as to what had just been said and potentially not even hearing half of it as she focused on her olive branch offering. Unfurling his fingers from around the branch he was using to poke at the fire, taking in from him and replacing it with some of the herbs she had found. She then curled his fingers back up to his palm, forcing him to hold them. She was still slowly chewing on her own, and her eyes were on his hand for the moment as she just stayed there for a beat longer than probably necessary.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand away and turned back to the awakening fire. "I wa'n't sure if your arm... still hurt. I found these last night, thought you may want them as much as I did. They ain't poisonous, I'm eatin' some now and can have more if that's what proves it to you." She muttered, rubbing her eyes as she slowly got her mind working once more through the cobwebs only brought on by sleep. Clarissa remained quiet for a moment longer, her guilt gnawing at her as she finally registered his poke at her calling him an arsehole.

Exhaling heavily through her nose, she gently tapped the stick she took from him against the grass. Her stubbornness reared its head, refusing to be the one to apologise first, yet her guilt still clawed at her. "I'm..." She began, trailing off before huffing harshly in frustration, "I'm sorry about what I said last night. But you don't exactly make it easy to know when you're takin' the piss or if you're being genuine." She looked up to him, frowning slightly, "And this ain't me lookin' for another fight, cause I'm sure as hell too tired for it today."

She continued to push the stick down into the earth, searching for something else to say. Clarissa was more than aware at that odd sensation of being around Tate, the part of her enjoying his company. Wanting it to just be the two of them for longer than they would probably be allowed. She found it odd how a part of her could take such pleasure in sitting with him, indulging in his presence, after all the negative and aggressive interactions they had had between them.

"It was alrigh' I guess... although I swear that Chester and Lyle even compete to see who has the loudest snore in that hut." Clarissa shrugged, but her one was light as if she was trying to make a joke.
 
Feeling Clarissa's hand in his own was a sensation that Tate didn't quite know how to react to. A part of him wanted to savour the moment as much as he could when it seemed to ignite that unspoken (and ignored) yearning for Clarissa's company and touch. Another part of him, inevitably, wanted to tear his hand away and snap at her for the unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his privacy, however hypocritical such a claim would be when he had the other literally dragged through the woods against her will.

In the end, he was generally far too shocked by the surprising intimacy of the moment and the consideration that it had been born from to utter a word for several long seconds, instead averting his gaze to the herbs that had been placed into his hand. He had been dealing with the pain in his arm for the night in silence, refusing to seek help for the ache when that would be admitting to the fact he had been caught off guard by Clarissa, and he wasn't ready to be embarrassed by his moment of vulnerability. He had grown distracted and that had come back to bite him. He was dealing with the consequences of it himself, however difficult it was to ignore the shooting pain and the reminder of what had occurred to cause it.

Thus, while the herbs would been a welcome aid, the other's words only ignited that fire in him, far too stubborn to accept the help, let alone admit that she had actually hurt him. He had seen that smug smirk in satisfaction when she thought she had hurt him and for that reason alone, he was determined to pretend that his arm was fine however untrue that was. Even now, when she was willing to help him and even extend an apology his way, he found himself withdrawing from the conversation and stubbornly refusing to engage in the chance to start building bridges between them.

"My arm ain't fucking hurt, alright? You didn't hurt me; you've got the strength of a fuckin' gnat. I ain't hurt. Cheers for the offer an' all but I'm fuckin' fine," he cursed under his breath, his jaw clenched tightly in an effort to hold back the full force of his annoyance. He didn't want to be annoyed when the conversation, for once, seemed to be casual and that was the least he could ask for after the events of the previous day, but it was hard not to keep his defences up as a protective tool against the effect Clarissa was having on him. She made him feel things he didn't want to feel given they would only further distract him from his duty as alpha, hence his efforts to remain withdrawn and reserved... though contrarily, he remained sat on the log in desperation to enjoy the proximity and privacy of her company, unable to deny himself that luxury.

"...Sorry. For snapping at 'ya. I don't wanna fight with 'ya either, trust me. Not just because you've been through a lot and could do without the stress of it, but because I don't wanna embarrass 'ya with my impeccable logic and argumentative skills. I always win arguments; sorta a perk of being the alpha. Nobody wants to tell me I'm wrong," he snorted, a sudden glimpse of a less serious side appearing as the defences, inevitably in Clarissa's presence, began to fall a little to allow her through. "And god knows I'm sorry about those two. Shoulda warned 'ya about Lyle and Chester, they're... even annoying in their sleep, huh? Trust me, I know; I grew up with them. They fucking annoyed me even when they were in the womb; it's their talent, I reckon."
 
"For fuck's sake, can't you just take the help for once and say 'Thank you'." Clarissa bit back, sharply looking across to him with a frown. There as a tiredness behind her eyes though, one that suggested she didn't want to keep battling with him. A part of her wanting to make those bridges, the same part that seemed to be growing and strengthening as she remained around people 'like her'. She didn't want to be shunned and thought of as the odd female out. That part of her wanted to be excepted, to have her scent mix with the pack and become one with them. Even if the other side of her was terrified of all that, of becoming murderous and aggressive.

"I'm just tryin' to help ya and you keep turning it into a fight, regardless of what you say about not wantin' to fight. I'm extendin' a hand here, Tate, when really it should be the other fuckin' way around." She continued, watching him cautiously. There wasn't anyone around to hear their exchange, which she was grateful for. If he decided to make another example out of her for these next words, then at least she wouldn't have an audience. "I'm here tryin' to apologise to you for things that happened yesterday - which you have neglected to have done, by the way - and offer you help for somethin' we both know hurt. So instead of being a stubborn prick, can you just accept the olive branch I've offered?"

Clarissa huffed softly at his attempt of a joke, looking away from him finally to pick at the remaining herbs in her hand. She quietly placed the last few on her tongue, slowly chewing on them as she allowed his words to hang in the air. It was starting to hurt each time he shoved away every advance she made to make those bridges. Each sharp word stabbing into her chest, but instead of storming off like he may have chosen too, Clarissa reacted with barbed responses of her own. Which is where the arsehole comment came from the night before. She had always been rather defensive, and this whole new environment made things no different, if anything it heightened everything.

All she wanted, surprisingly, was for his company and touch in a gentle and comforting manner. Not forcing her to her feet or dragging her anywhere. She found herself wanting to enjoy his company in an amicable way, wanting intimacy from him. The thought terrified her, forcing her to shove it deep down once more where she knew it belonged. It was just this new werewolf part of her wanting an alpha's acceptance, Clarissa told herself sternly. The hope she felt, each time she saw him, that their next encounter may be better than the one before was just her wanting to be taken in by an alpha, nothing more. The hurt she experienced at his behaviour or words was nothing more than her just feeling rejection from an alpha, nothing else.

"So, are we starting our lessons now or after breakfast? Because I have plenty of questions to ask." Clarissa finally spoke up again, deciding to move past the pleasantries. What was the point when anything pleasant she tried to do, or apology she put out there, was thrown back in her face? She put the branch down between them and clasping her hands together, picking at the dirt beneath one of her nails. "Like what are mates? I heard your brother has one... are they just like human relationships - like his partner?"
 
Apparently, his efforts of easing the tension (that he had created) had come too late, the alpha silent in the reprimand he was given. The role reversal wasn't something he was necessarily comfortable with - he was the leader who dished out the chastisements; not the one who received them. Especially not by someone who had been in the pack for a minute amount of time. Yet, in that time, she hadn't strayed away from dishing out the reprimands and confronting Tate when he inevitably acted or spoke in a way that she found irksome or just downright disrespectful.

He might be the alpha, but his experiences with Clarissa had done little to establish that role. He had tried to assert his authority and it had worked once or twice, remembering distinctly the sight of her submissively lowering her gaze - but those instances of submission were so few and far between that he barely felt they counted at this point. Not when she had enjoyed the disobedience that came with confronting and challenging her alpha, it becoming more unsubtle and more coarse as they spent more time together. He had hoped that more time would make her realise that he wasn't to be spoken to like this. If anything, the passing of time had done little to earn him the respect he felt he deserved, and that confused him.

What werewolf could openly acknowledge another as alpha, know what that meant, and yet continue to act with such insolence? It confused him as much as the yearning he felt to be near her, simultaneously finding Clarissa to be annoying and wayward, whilst also acknowledging that there was something about her that he felt drawn to and captivated by. It was an exhausting range of emotions that he didn't want to deal with, hence him shutting down and retreating from them before they complicated things.

If he had to be the 'arsehole' for doing it, then he would - but he thought he was doing the right thing by not growing too close, feeling that neither he or Clarissa needed to be distracted from their individual responsibilities, namely integrating her into the pack and helping her with everything that included.

"...Gio's got a mate, yeah. Rebekah. She's a nice enough girl," he absently shrugged as he returned to poking the fire, unsure what he was even doing was helpful but he felt he needed to give his hands something to do and his mind something to focus on. As far as questions went, the one of mates wasn't a difficult one to answer and he found slight amusement in the fact that was what she wanted to ask about first, casting her a quick glance in temptation to tease her lightly about it. Yet, everytime he tried to joke around with her, it usually came out wrong and resulted in some feisty remarks so he bit back the urge and focused back on the fire again, focusing on watching the flames grow and burn.

"It's, uh... yeah, partners I guess. But it's different, maybe? I dunno. It's like this feeling you get for someone indicates that you're mates, and usually that bond lasts until death. It's... special. Soulmates, I guess is the right word. I dunno what the feeling's like, can't explain that to 'ya, but Gio said it's like... this innate longing. Again, I dunno; guess I'll tell 'ya more about it when it kicks in for me. Or for you. You're a werewolf; it'll happen at some point, if you're lucky."
 
Clarissa snorted softly, reaching down to pick at the grass by her side to give her hands something to do. "Not exactly a normal case though, am I?" She answered, allowing her irritation to flare back down. Despite the fact that he still didn't acknowledge her words or her actions. Perhaps it was her behaviour causing him to react this way. Maybe it was his way of playing on that werewolf side of her, trying to get it to feel unwelcome and unwanted in a pack that it was growing to long for. She knew that wolves were sociable animals, if she truly did have that element of a beast inside herself, then she wouldn't want to be outcast and alone. She would want the safety and warm of a pack.

The mere thought of this instinct kicking in for him sent an odd wave of jealousy through Clarissa, and she frowned softly at the emotion. The image, of him with another female, it caused a muscle to jump in her jaw. It made her want to rip imaginary hands from an imaginary Tate's arm. Her shoulders tightened and hunched slightly, and she ripped some grass strands out from the earth with a little too much force, leaving her with a clump of soil surrounding the roots. These were mere thoughts, though, and she couldn't comprehend why they were getting to her as much as they were. It made that voice inside her mind grumble and her fingers twitch. Yet why?

Taking in a deep breath to cool her boiling blood, Clarissa hesitantly looked across to him. She took the moment, with his attention of the fire, to studying him up close. Swallowing the last of the herbs, she moved to sit on her knees, facing him completely. Another deep breath was needed to compose herself, steady the sudden appearance of nerves that made themselves known - she was anxious that another push away would occur with what she was going to try next, but knew was needed.

"Clarissa. My name's Clarissa." She extended a hand, allowing it to hang in the air for a moment. "I don't know if you-we... do anything different when introducing each other, but I was raised to shake hands." Clarissa kept her eyes on him for a moment, stomach twisting as she waited. "Perhaps... we can start again."
 
Though his focus on the burning fire was intense, Tate had only opted to distract himself from Clarissa as she spoke. He find it difficult to be sat with her at the best of times, struggling with the confusion brought on by the juxtaposing emotions he felt for her. It was only made more difficult when she spoke and attempted to converse with him because it was impossible in that instance to ignore how she made him feel. At least in the silence he could block her out somewhat and find some focus for his mind, rather than the thoughts that rattled his brain everytime she spoke to remind him of the conflicting opinions he held for her.

Yet, when she fell silent, he didn't appear grateful for the chance for reprieve. Though he was able to gather some control of himself and force the burgeoning emotions and thoughts to the back of his mind again, he was too confused by the sudden bout of silence to let it go on unquestioned. He cursed himself for the curiosity he held, wanting to do anything but peer back over at the newcomer but he eventually did so - and immediately, confusion passed by his expression at the sight of her clenched jaw. He couldn't connect the dots and realise what it was in response to, but how could he figure out how she might be starting to feel if he couldn't even figure out his own feelings?

He wanted to ask her what was wrong but when there was a distinct note of anger in her expression, he assumed that he had said something she hadn't liked again and appearing clueless about it might only encourage her to snap back a remark at him for it. He ought to know if he had done something wrong, and appearing oblivious -even though he genuinely wasn't sure what he might have said to upset her- didn't seem wise. The fact he stayed silent to prevent provoking her was an attempt to learn from his past mistake. As alpha, he felt irritated that he even had to make the effort for someone that had shown him nothing but disrespect, but something told him to try; to go ahead and make that effort because it was Clarissa and somehow, she deserved it from him.

Handling those thoughts wasn't easy and so the break of silence (despite having once craved the peace) came as a relief, looking back across at her when she finally introduced herself. The extending of her hand -and the extending of a new start- might have been stubbornly refused if Tate hadn't been so encouraged to make the effort for her. For whatever reason, he felt inclined to try and so, with almost no hesitation, he took her hand in his own and gave it a shake with a growing grin at the formality of it.

"God, you really act like a human, don't 'ya? We gotta toughen you up; this shit's a bit soppy," he pointed out with the same teasing grin all his brothers seemed to share. If he were more familiar with her, he'd have leaned across to playfully nudge her to emphasis the teasing, and while he felt a strange urge to do that, to loosen the tension and bond with her, he resisted out of obligation to his leadership role.

"Ah, anyway. Yeah, a new start sounds good... Clarissa--" He murmured, sounding the name out a few times under his breath to test how it sounded and felt on his tongue, an eventual smile showing itself in approval. "Considering you didn't tell me your name, I was tryin' t' guess it. Had you down as an Alice. But Clarissa suits 'ya."
 
A smile, a genuine one, began to twitch at the corners of her mouth at his teasing. In that moment, with how immediate he was in taking her hand and with the teasing comment - one that she actually knew was a joke - made Clarissa feel like things could actually be alright. She looked at him for a breath longer than she realised was probably acceptable, her hand lingering on his and keeping it held for a moment. She found his hand to be smoother than she expected, maybe a little grittier from the dirt on the stick he had been using, but warm too. The grin suited him too, and Clarissa found her thinking that he should do that more often.

Releasing his hand, rather reluctantly she found, Clarissa lowered her gaze for a moment. "Yeah well, I think you and your brothers are doing a good job of toughenin' me up yesterday. Got plenty of bruises to prove it. Or did you forget about the whole moment of havin' me chased down and dragged back?" She raised her eyes to his, the weak smile from before having melted into her own teasing grin and cocked eyebrow. "You're lucky you didn't leave one of my face, y'know. Otherwise there would've been problems."

It may have been a moment of fear for her. A situation where Clarissa genuinely wasn't sure what was going to happen, if she was going to be killed or if she was going to be treated like an outcast for the rest of her time. It was an uncontrollable moment, and she despised a lack of control or not knowing what was happening. Yet, it was in the past and they had said they would move on and start afresh. She couldn't hold onto that... or at least she would try not to.

Her eyes shot to him at the sound of her name, and she smiled softly. Something stirred within her, hearing her name on his lips. Enjoying the way he said it, revelling in it, almost. Clarissa even felt her cheeks warm, leaving her with no choice but to look away in mortification at how, with him just saying her name, she could react in such a way. What was it with her emotions? It was overwhelming, at the best of times. Now for her to react in this way just at the mere mention of her name - after feeling an uncontrollable bout of anger and pain at the idea of him with another woman? She hated him, despised him for everything that had happened less that twenty-four hours ago.

"Hey, I've had a lot of things changed about me in the past day or so - new community, new species, new life... I don't think I can deal with a new name too. Don't be gettin' any ideas with this Alice bullshit." She smirked lightly, shoving those previous thoughts to the side. How she felt about Tate couldn't matter right now. There was too much going on around her.

"So, how does this... teachin' stuff work? What wisdom are you going to bestow upon me first?" Clarissa asked, moving from her knees to sit cross-legged. "By the way, don't think I 'aven't noticed you 'aven't eaten any of those herbs. Pop some in your mouth and chew, you can thank me later."
 
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It was a stark contrast to their attitudes towards one another that now, rather than being at one another's throats and engaging in quick insults and attempts at asserting and refusing dominance, they were teasing and joking as if they were old friends. The sudden change in the atmosphere and their interactions wasn't lost on Tate, who briefly acknowledged just how strange it could be considered that they were suddenly able to move past the insults and violence and playfully tease each other without any offence being taken, but he was enjoying the moment so much that he refused to think any deeper about how happy it was making him. He could acknowledge how enjoyable it was without introspectively analysing why he was enjoying it and why that part of him that ached for Clarissa's company had never been so contented until now.

And just why he was even capable of enjoying her company so much when he failed to act like this around most of the pack he had spent his entire life knowing and growing up around. He was so determined to maintain the appearance of a leader that he often failed to allow himself to have fun around anyone, and even fun with his siblings was reserved for when they were in private to prevent the pack from witnessing him acting in a manner he thought unsuitable for an alpha. And yet here he was, grinning and laughing alongside someone he had known for a day in total, uncaring that the sternness he gravitated towards most days had now been abandoned in her company in favour of enjoying the moment, and importantly, enjoying it with Clarissa.

He had gotten so carried away that he had neglected the herbs that remained untouched in his hand, a slight frown (though playful in its petulance) appearing. Eating the herbs would be admitting that his arm was indeed painful. Even if no such admission passed his lips, the action of taking the herbs into his mouth would be all the evidence Clarissa would need to know that she had succeeded in capitalising on his moment of distraction the previous day to deal him some damage. As the leader, he didn't need her having that sort of information to hold over him... but despite that, he rolled his eyes and obediently chewed on the herbs.

"If you say anythin' about this, about you fuckin' my arm up, I'll retaliate. Keep that in mind," he warned, albeit with the playfulness that had become commonplace amongst them over the last few minutes. He went as far as to finally lean over and nudge her with his shoulder in an effort to emphasise his jokey tone, his laugh arriving soon after.

"God, teachin' 'ya? You know this is a new situation for me too, yeah? I dunno how to teach 'ya, where to start, how to even... encourage you to transition. I guess that'l just happen when it happens and I'll help 'ya through it when it does 'cos it ain't somethin' you should deal with alone. But I guess we could start with talking about the abilities you have, yeah? 'Cos the fact you hurt me in the first place shows you have strength on par with ours - we could train you up, build that strength and stamina up. That'd be a good start."
 
"I thought you said I had the strength of, and I quote, 'a fuckin' gnat'?" Clarissa raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at her lips. But not one of malicious intent or smug satisfaction, but one of teasing playfulness that she was falling into around him. It felt so odd, to be in this situation with him. From being dragged through the woods, having to hold onto her dress skirts to keep her modesty... to sharing this intimate, playful moment with him. If anyone had said to her yesterday that this is what she would be doing the next morning, she would have thought them deluded. Yet here they were, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt... nice.

Her eyebrow raised at him informing her that this was new to him too, her grin remaining in place. "I would never 'ave guessed. I thought that was my initiation - being slammed up against that tree yesterday." She drawled, resting back on her hands.

The grin flickered at the mention of training her up, building her strength and stamina. The memories of the slaughter from yesterday flashing through her mind. Lucy's face appearing before her eyes again. The idea of her being trained made her feel like it would be preparing her for another instance like her village. To train her until they felt confident that she would be as strong and capable as they were at murdering and destroying the homes of multiple people. Clarissa knew she wouldn't be able to participate in any action like that, but she wasn't sure how she felt about being left behind like he said others had been yesterday to cook and prepare for their return. Even staying behind, she would know what they were set out to do. She wondered if she could be a part of that.

Despite how comfortable she had become with Daisy and Anders, and how this part of her pined for Tate's company and attention... Clarissa wasn't sure she could ever turn a blind eye to another slaughter like she had witnessed. They may not have been her people in the end, and may have lied to her... but could one say anyone really deserved what her village got yesterday?

Clarissa hadn't realised her gaze had drifted into the fire, which was now burning well, until a pop startled her from her thoughts. She relaxed her expression, which had formed a frown during her zone out, and she looked back to Tate. She hesitated in telling him these thoughts, not wanting to ruin the brief experience of peace they were enjoying. She wasn't stupid, she had seen how he reacted when she worked out the wolves were him and Anders all those years ago. He despised humans, and even that that felt like it was putting it lightly.

"Tate I..." She began, trailing off as she tried to form the words. But holding his gaze and studying him for a moment longer, she cleared her throat and lowered her gaze, unable to go through with voicing her concerns. "I guess I've always been strong, my brother said it was unnatural how strong I was. And...and my senses are a lot more sensitive than I always thought they should be. I could hear things that others in my village couldn't, smell things that I shouldn't have been able to smell." Clarissa decided to simply go forward with explaining what she had experienced in terms of her abilities.

She paused again, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, "A little voice too - I think like a sixth sense? I think it's that part of me that's been suppressed for all these years. I'm wonderin' if that's now what my wolf would be if I had one."
 
Tate was many things, but naive wasn't one of them. He may despise humans with a passion and his pack more than supported that conclusion, but he wasn't blind to the fact that Clarissa, despite being a werewolf and a new addition to the pack, wouldn't adopt the same sentiment. She could be open and honest about the faults the humans had, but a lifetime being raised in that cosy village amongst humans who had loved and cared for her like she was their own wasn't going to be soured just because she was in the company of fellow wolves who had detested their human neighbours.

He had every reason to hate them and their hypocrisy; their narcissism in believing themselves to be the superior species who had an automatic right to hunt in the woods while reacting in horror at the wolves straying into the village for the same reasons. They hadn't even contemplated attacking a human and yet they had been treated like vicious beasts with a lust for human blood - and while it wasn't solely the unjustified attack on Anders that had started the hatred, it had definitely consolidated it and been the catalyst for the attack on the village.

He wanted Clarissa to understand their perspective; to know that to be a werewolf didn't automatically make a person a vicious, monstrous beast. The pack had initiated an attack, but they weren't without their reasons for such violence and he hoped to explain it to her in the future, when the grief and loss of witnessing such terror had dimmed a little with the benefit of time.

For now, he was focused on simply integrating her into a different way of life that she had never experienced before. How he would do that properly was still a mystery to him but he owed it to her to give it his best shot, particularly when it sounded like she had struggled with her abilities most her life with nobody around her to explain to her why she harboured them.

"Nah, that all sounds normal - the strength and heightened senses and all that. That's normal. Obviously you'll need to learn how to control them properly and stuff, not be afraid of hiding them. I can help 'ya with that, I guess - it shouldn't be that hard," he hummed confidently, not seeing it as too much of a task to help train Clarissa into not just accepting her strength but encouraging it to reach its full potential, mostly sure that she hadn't come to that yet when she had lived amongst humans her entire life.

"I ain't an expert, I've never been in this situation but we'll learn together, yeah? And I know I can get Daisy to help 'ya when I'm busy with other stuff. Anders might be a good shout too. He doesn't go on hunts or anything with us so he'll always be around to lend a hand - I figure you like him more than my other brothers, right?"
 
A breath was released from Clarissa that she hadn't even realised she had been holding. It was a relief, and bloody relief, to hear those words from him. That her abilities were normal for this community. She smiled faintly, scratching behind her ear with a shrug, "I've already kinda got my senses into shape... but I ain't sure if that's more me suppressing them than it is me controllin' them. It got really overwhelmin' when it all hit me at once, y'know? And being in that village, there was so much goin' on..." She trailed off, casting her gaze around to the emptiness that surrounded them at the fire pit, "...Everythin' here seems so much simpler."

Admittedly, that side of her - that confusing side that took pleasure in Tate's company, that was becoming more comfortable surrounded by other werewolves and that was becoming more dominant - felt safer in this open space, surrounded by forestry and the simple huts then when she was back in the village. When there were hunters and people who knew how to use weapons. It was odd, but she put it down to that part of her knowing just how capable this group was.

Even if it meant thinking back to the event she witnessed as evidence of how capable they all were.

"I like 'em both. They were both kind to me, even if I was bein' a bit of a bitch." Clarissa chose to acknowledge her previous behaviour, but raised an eyebrow and a hand lifted to point a finger at him, "If I can say I was a bitch, you can say you were a bit of a prick." She smirked with a playful challenge before he could make any sort of teasing comment.

Chuckling, she turned back to look at the fire, the smirk melting into an easy smile. It suddenly felt so natural to be acting like this with Tate. This easy jibing and teasing. It didn't feel like they were at each other's throats less than twenty-four hours ago, but rather that they were old friends reacquainting themselves. Every little touch or form of contact had that longing for more interaction with Tate humming with pleasure for a moment, before it got greedy and demanded more. There was the guilt, of course, of feeling this connection with him after all that had happened - he had had ordered that attack, after all. But it was harder to ignore than yesterday.

Sighing softly, she moved so she was sat again, but this time on the grass with an elbow resting on the log behind her. The movement of putting her elbow up behind her allowed her a tiny bit of contact with him again, her arm brushing against him softly. And while she acted nonchalant, Clarissa wasn't entirely sure if it was an accident or if it was that longing for intimacy again.

"So then, let's get the first lesson underway. No point tellin' me if the transition hurts cause I already know that, and what you change into cause I know that too. Not to mention that it seems like the first rule is always keep spare clothes around. I'm surprised my eyes have recovered from what I saw of you yesterday, I thought they'd never stop stingin' in pain."
 
"I wouldn't say I was a bit of a prick, I don't think I was that bad to 'ya--" began the werewolf in an effort to lessen the blame on himself, as was an instinctive move for him to make. He didn't think he was perfect, far from it, but he at least liked to believe that the actions he took as the leader of the pack were generally the right ones to make. He had apologised to Clarissa and he meant that apology, which then meant that he was admitting that his plan of action towards her hadn't entirely been correct and fair.

Which made him a prick; a fact he stumbled upon midway through his attempt to push the blame away. Rather than dig himself a hole he couldn't climb out of, he, in a show of emotional growth towards the newcomer, instead sighed and shared the same teasing smirk. He wouldn't allow anyone to even hint that he was a bit of a prick, let alone call him out on it and expect him to reiterate such words, but it had been established by now that he and Clarissa had something that didn't abide by the ordinary rules of the pack. Only she could effectively call him such a name and now get away with it, even causing the alpha to not just agree but smirk about it.

"Fine. I was a bit of a prick, I can accept that," he shrugged in response, leaning back a little to stretch out his spine. It was only at that brief moment of contact that the alpha's confident smile faded a little. Not out of anger or discomfort, but rather, the sudden pleasure that inner part of him felt at something so simple as the brushing of arm against him. It comforted and contented the part of him that yearned for her contact; a part of him that was growing stronger and more eager by the second. He ignored communicating that part of him, or even acknowledging its existence for more than a few seconds, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that he had experienced in that moment. A feeling he wanted to replicate and, with their training sessions to commence, he had ample opportunity to enjoy being alone in her company, with nobody to interrupt or distract him from absorbing how Clarissa was starting to make him feel.

Though he wasn't necessarily an expert at training someone, let alone someone who hadn't been amongst her own kind before, the two weeks that proceeded were dedicated to helping Clarissa as best as he could. An hour or two a day was set aside for the girl, the alpha taking her to a secluded part of the woods to help her control her strength and defend herself should she ever need to - close enough to the pack in case there was an emergency he was required for but far enough to give Clarissa the private training he had promised her. Not that the privacy was only for her; he selfishly wanted to be alone with her, where he didn't have to hide how fond he was becoming of the girl in a way he, as alpha, didn't think he should be.

"You're still a bit slow in your reactions, Clarissa - if I was gonna attack 'ya, if had a pitchfork 'cos humans are fond of those apparently, you'd be dead. Or severely injured. 'Ya gotta be quicker to react. Even if you're not in the other form; you still need to be able to defend yourself in this one," the alpha began as he adjusted his position after his offensive move forward, stepping back when she failed to react as quickly as he had wanted her. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, cheeks red from the heat of the midday sun bearing down on them, though the intensity wasn't necessarily unwelcome - at least, it wasn't to him. He had dealt with Clarissa's snappiness throughout the two weeks, at first brushing it off but as it worsened, he found himself reluctant to even critique her in realisation it would provoke some sort of sharp retort. Why she was acting that way was lost on him, assuming it had to do with the intensity of his training rather than the growing presence of the wolf in her.

But if he was going to train her, he couldn't settle for just average so the critiques, when appropriate, had to continue, however much she snapped at him for it. The intense conditions, he hoped, would encourage the aggression she needed to include in her defensiveness, unaware that it might just encourage her sour mood to continue.

"Clarissa, take a breath, yeah? We'll try again, s'all cool. Just-- put some anger into it if 'ya gotta. It'll help."
 
"Oh fuck off Tate. It's piss hot out here and I swear we've been goin' longer than usual." Clarissa growled out, rolling her shoulders to try and ease the tension within them. Her whole body had been aching for days, growing worse and worse as they went by. The herbs she had found for herself and Tate when she first arrived barely touched the worst of the pain. It wasn't like anything she had experienced before, like a mixture of the growing pains she experienced when she was younger and the flu. She wanted to go and float in the water of the lake, but even that was only a short respite from what her body was doing to her.

Often she felt guilty after leaving one of their sessions, replaying all her biting retorts in her mind and cringing at how she spoke to him. Especially with the new relationship they had developed. It was what lead her to apologise the next morning, just for it all to happen again during another one of their lessons. But it wasn't just Tate, Chester and Lyle with their teasing often were in the firing line. Daisy having to try and cool her down afterwards. Anders, someone that Clarissa usually got along with so well and enjoyed spending time with, even got some of the brunt of her new mood swings if it had been a particularly bad day for her.

Although it was mostly Tate that she felt worse for. Each time she reacted the way she did, that part of her hated her for it. It snarled at her for talking to him in such a way. It was different to her calling him out on his shit or refusing to back down to him. This was just pure spitefulness. Some nights she didn't join him and the others for the evening meal because she felt so awful in what she had said on her worst days. That then hurt her even more.

The ache for contact had grown tenfold in the two weeks she had been with the pack, learning their ways. While her body was sore, Clarissa found that part of her was comforted and contented when they were just sat together talking or eating in silence. She found herself making excuses to touch him or have him touch her. To accidentally graze him or to be near him. She wasn't sure what it was, and the confusion of the growing emotion only fuelled the anger that flared with her mood swings.

"This ain't fuckin' workin', Tate. I'm not one of your li'l soldier wolves. I ain't able to move or react as quickly as they can, alrigh'. Just get off my back." Clarissa snapped, turning away from him. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, grounding out a sigh as she did so.

Her skin felt like it was crawling, and even before the session her skin was flushed, body temperature higher than normal. She just felt uncomfortable and it irritated her. Relief did come with the trousers she had sewn herself, having convinced Daisy into helping her get her sewing kit from the village and find some material for her to cut them out of. They were to her ankle, still modest and flowing but they allowed her to move easily and didn't irritate her skin like her dress skirts would have.

"I can't do this. I'm a fuckin' useless werewolf who doesn't even have a wolf. I'm a freak of nature who shouldn't even be here. I know it. You know it. Everyone fuckin' knows it." She spun sharply on the ball of her foot to face him again, arm thrown outwards in the direction of the pack, "Why're we still botherin'?"
 
Tate realised he had every right as alpha to reprimand her for the outburst of insults and remarks she made during their training sessions together; that even if he wasn't alpha and just a normal guy, the disrespect and hurtfulness of her comments were far from fair and less than okay when he was dedicating his valuable time into helping her. Of course he had his own reasons for wanting to be alone with her, initially looking forward to that alone time. His priority was, of course, helping Clarissa truly understand the potential she had if she worked at harnessing her abilities, but he wouldn't -and couldn't- deny that he had ulterior motives, even if those were simply enjoying her presence and the contentment it filled him with.

He also knew that in the physicality of their training sessions, there would be some actual contact between them. While it might not be overly intimate, perhaps only being the helpful adjustment of her wrists into an offensive position or brushing past her in a test of her defensive reactions, the simple contact with her was enough to please that inner part of him that cried out for it.

Yet, disappointingly, he found himself almost dreading the sessions the more days that went by and the worst her mood became. He couldn't enjoy the teasing and playfulness he tried to inject into things when it seemed to always be misconstrued and incurred her wrath instead. He couldn't even find contentment in the briefest of physical contact when it was always undercut by some sharp words. Not once did he retort angrily in response, however much of a right he had to defend himself against the cruelty of her words when he was helping her as much as he did. He had the urge to, of course, but past experiences of their confrontations had warned him against rashly reacting. Instead, he tried to be gentle and understanding in his reproach, hoping that that would help things.

Only, her moods continued to grow bitter and the tension had only increased, so that particular point of action wasn't as successful as he wanted it to be. And so, inevitably, his patience had left him. There was only so much he could take and after two weeks of trying his best, he had apparently reached that level.

"What the fuck do you want me to do then? Huh? If you're gonna fuckin' give up, what do you want me to do about it? I can't make 'ya listen to me. I sure as hell know I can't make you be fuckin' nice to me 'cos god knows I've tried that and you've still been fucking unbearable," he snapped in return, his jaw tight and clenched as his muscles twitched, emphasised by the clenching of his hands into fists. Every muscle in his arms were tight and tense, the rising tension aching to be relieved. A tree usually made a good source of relief for that anger, the trunk providing enough solidity for the pummelling of his fists against the bark, but he resisted that urge and instead reached to cool himself with the cup of water nearby, downing its contents in one or two chugs.

"Fuck you, then. I'll get off your back. Just don't come fucking cryin' to me when you realise later on how much of a bitch you've been, 'cos I ain't interested in hearing your pathetic apologies again - if you're done, then so am I."
 
Her pupils dilated for a moment as her eyes snapped down to his hands at their movement. Only for her gaze to slowly trail up his body again, taking note of the jumping in his arms, the tension in his muscles. Her nostrils flared softly as she took in a deep breath, just to find his scent enveloping her yet again. Through her anger, Clarissa wanted to approach him and help ease out the strain in his muscles despite knowing she was the cause. She wanted to graze her hands over his arms and then his shoulders, stopping only at his neck. Pausing there to admire him again.

Immediately she shook her head, lips parting and frowning furiously at such thoughts. They had come before, but usually she kept a good enough control on herself to not have them when actually around Tate. To not react the way she did, in a way she construed as being obvious and she found herself hoping that he was to enraged with her to have seen.

Clarissa turned her back on him again, body trembling as she tried to regain control over herself. But all went ice-cold at the name he called her and she paused, halting in her step. She turned slowly, her own jaw clenching as she met and held his gaze, "Bitch? Really?" She drawled, voice cold and steady, "That's the best you could come up with?"

She wasn't about to leave it there though, the bubbling anger, frustration of her rapidly changing hormones, the pain of her aching body and the added confusion of what he was causing her to feel coming to a head.

Immediately she launched herself toward him, taking three long strides to reach him before going low in an attempt to tackle him.
 
Fortunately for Clarissa, Tate's anger was that intense that he failed to acknowledge the eyes that had grazed across him in a less than subtle manner. Any other day under any other circumstance and he would have not only noticed the glances but found a heat spread across his cheeks in recognition of the longing beneath them. He would have been unable to prevent his own eyes replicating the same wandering glances and perhaps, amongst that, he would have admitted that he felt the longing for her that he had until then refused to acknowledge and left ignored.

Of course, such admissions weren't to be; not in the midst of the anger that distracted him from noticing the glances in the first place. He had felt anger before, but not an anger that was also imbued with a sense of frustration and deep upset. This was the last thing he wanted after making so much progress with Clarissa. She was the only person outside of his family who he had allowed himself to unwind around; to lower down the defences he held up around himself and reveal to her the vulnerability he kept hidden for obvious reasons. To have done that and then revert all that progress by returning to the confrontations they had engaged in upon their first meeting wasn't just annoying; it hurt.

To say he saw the attack coming just wouldn't be true. The remark he made might have been unnecessary, but it felt appropriate after a fortnight dealing with similar insults he had maturely declined to respond to - until now, at least. Not for the first time around Clarissa, Tate was distracted and left vulnerable to an attack. This time, however, under the full force of the tackle, it wasn't just his arm that was hurt in the attack; his entire body was thrust onto the ground and momentarily, he was rendered incapable of moving, the pain of hitting the cold forest floor at such force incredibly intense.

But that temporary immobility lasted all of five seconds. Instinctively, a growl erupted from the back of his throat, low, deep and guttural; a mixture of anger at the attack and an instinctual attempt as the alpha to force the other werewolf into submission. Yet, with such anger coursing through his veins, a warning growl did little to satisfy him and, despite being beneath Clarissa, Tate managed to shove her off and reverse their positioning. He had the advantage of being in tune with what he was; he hadn't been thrown into a pack as an adult and forced to learn everything associated with being a werewolf. He had known this lifestyle his entire life and been able to transition since he was 13 years of age, affording him the distinct advantage over someone who had yet to even transition.

"Move, just once, and I'll fuckin' turn here and now and drag 'ya back to camp - do you want that? The added humiliation on top of losing this attempt of a fight? I fuckin' dare 'ya, move and I'll make you regret it - so fuckin' calm down and quit it," he hissed down at her, his hands pinning her to the ground. It took every source of strength in him not to change and act on his threat, though in his anger a few slight changes had been allowed to come through - namely the sharpening of his canines and nails, though the latter only helped to pin her down, with any effort to move from the hold resulting in the sharper nails to press harder into her skin.

"You gonna admit defeat and quit acting like a lil' bitch now, yeah? Or am I gonna have to drag you back?"
 
A growl, like ones she had heard in the pack before and from him, weakly sounded from the back of her own throat as she laid beneath him. Hands pinned and legs kicking out behind him but barely moving. Her breathing was rapid through her nose, harsh and unsteady, as she gritted her teeth. It angered her that he was always so much better than her. Quicker, faster, stronger. More capable. More of a werewolf. Yet that strange part of her couldn't help but purr with pleasure at their positioning. She had gotten more contact from him than she could have ever done before. Her senses were so incredibly heightened, his scent smelling more intoxicating than ever.

Everything was ten times more intense than she had ever experienced. Before all she could focus on were the aches and pains of her body. But with his touch, no matter how aggressive it was or negative the situation was, it was helping her centre on everything else. His face was so much sharper to her eye, and she found herself noticing details she hadn't seen before. His scent, exhilarating. His touch allowed that part of her, that was burning angrily, to cool ever so slightly.

Yet she was still pinned down, and she was still pissed. But she knew that the fight was lost, she didn't need that humiliation of being dragged back. It was bad enough the first time. But a second time? Just as she was becoming a part of the community? She didn't need thoughts of her lowered again.

Reluctantly, Clarissa went still. Her hands, which were once clenched tightly into fists, relaxed and went palm up. She tore her gaze from his and slowly tilted her head back to bare her throat to him, as she had been taught to do when conceding a fight.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, keeping her eyes on the trees to the side of them, waiting for him to accept her submission.
 
Was he angry? Sure. Had that earlier anger clouded his ability of recognising the longing gazes that Clarissa had offered? Ultimately, yes - but no amount of anger that ran through his veins could blind him to how intimate this moment was. In fact, for a long few seconds, he almost forgot the issues he had with her or what she had done to him, instead transfixed as his eyes drunk in every feature and detail of her face as they could. Like her, he was noticing details he hadn't ever noticed before. Whether that was a result of their general proximity or simply because more feelings for her had been awakened during the tussle he didn't know, but frankly, that didn't matter.

What only mattered in that moment was the contentment of that part of him that longed for this; the proximity, the sensations, and the mixing of their scents as if it was meant to be. Her scent had been the first real thing he had noticed about her that day they met just a mere two weeks prior, and as the time progressed, he hadn't been able to ignore how intoxicating the scent was becoming to him. Of course he tried to ignore it and the repercussions acknowledging his desire to the scent would bring, but the realisation was always lingering at the back of his mind - he was drawn to the scent, something innate calling for him to be near its owner.

And so, even if this moment had been brought on by anger and frustration, the consequences were invaluable in Tate's understanding of what he felt for Clarissa.

Naturally though, as his mind gradually returned out of the daze he had been in, he remembered the lead-up to the tackle; the cruel taunts and ungrateful snarls that had plagued him those two weeks. The disgust that had flashed across Clarissa's expression as she charged towards him, uncaring that he was still the alpha and deserved a level of respect for that alone. Despite the eventual show of submission and apology, he pushed himself away from her with a mere grunt in acknowledgement - not acceptance.

"Just get the fuck up and fuck back off to camp, would 'ya? I ain't interested in walking back with you," he muttered as he turned his back on her to collect the cup of water he had left aside for her, choosing to drink it himself. "--Seriously, fuck off Clarissa. You're lucky I'm even talkin' to 'ya. You-- tackled me to the ground. I have every right to-- to-- ugh. Just leave already."
 
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