Decision

Nyell's fist neared the man's face at high speed. He had forgotten his promise to his sister to be courteous with the White Moon tribe. He couldn't help it, and it wasn't his fault. This arrogant prick was looking for trouble, throwing oil on the fire. Nyell was a living being, not some object that could be readily handed over! And if he had to show it with his fists, then so be it.

Luckily or not, one of the man's aides caught his wrist just before his fist could reach the man's face. Nyell couldn't help but snarl. His fist was not even an inch away from the bastard's nose, yet he hadn't lost his smile. No, it had grown deeper, shaping his ethereal eyes into crescent moon shapes. The amused twinkles in his irises were alluring, the streaks of red seemingly dancing in a pale blue ocean—truly mesmerizing eyes. 

"The name is Allen, not piece of shit," the chief of the White Moon tribe corrected, gently but firmly pushing the fist away. "I'll give you some time to consider my offer, Corriel. If you want to discuss it with your son, please go ahead. However, this is my last offer. Refuse it, and we will not provide any help."

Corriel, Nyell's father, appeared at a loss, his mouth half-open. Not waiting for the man to regain his sense, Allen added, "I'll be resting in my quarter. Once you made up your mind, come find me." 

Nyell didn't utter a word, gritting his teeth. He glared at Allen's retreating back before switching his attention to the female aide beside him.

'Tsk, it hurts like a bitch,' he silently cursed, rubbing his wrist.

Though the aide looked frail, with her slim and petite build, she sure had a strong grip. With a little more strength, she might even have shattered his wrist bone to dust. He'd tried to retrieve his arm earlier but without much success. It left him somehow dumbfounded. He was the strongest warrior of their tribe, and he could turn to mush a mammoth's skull with his bare hands. He wasn't being overconfident: he was powerful, even among his kin, and he knew it.

For this girl to keep him in check…

Something was off with her.

"I'm sorry, son, I didn't expect such a request," Corriel said, returning to his senses. "Let's refuse. This offer doesn't make sense."

Corriel didn't need to think twice before making a decision. His people would understand, for every member of the tribe considered each other family. No one would gladly hand over one of their own, especially to a tribe they abhorred. 

"And after that, what do we do?" Nyell scoffed, sitting on the ground. "The other tribes all turned us down, afraid to incur the wrath of whatever is causing the disappearances in our tribe."

They had asked for help several times these past few months, but no one responded favorably, including their closest allies. Funnily enough, the only tribe that agreed to at least meet with them was the White Moon tribe. 

"Son, we can get out of this ourselves!"

Nyell raised an eyebrow, letting his father know he wasn't sharing his opinion. People had been disappearing without rhyme or reason, leaving no trace behind. They searched everywhere for clues, but they found nothing. It was as if the missing persons had been spirited away. If only they knew what they were fighting against, the other tribes wouldn't be as scared to lend a helping hand.

 "Don't make that face. I'm sure we'll find out what's going on," Corriel sighed. "I have no idea why Allen asked for you, but what comes to my mind isn't glamorous. You're the reason we can stand our ground against them, so he may want to deprive us of you to better take control over our tribe!"

"I don't think he's after that. His tribe doesn't like to use such underhanded methods. Well, for that kind of stuff, anyway."

"Then why would he spout such nonsense!"

Nyell made a pout. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, hesitating to tell his father. How would he react to his destined mate being this piece of shit? He had always admired his father, and he didn't want to disappoint him. But Corriel was also something akin to his best friend. Most of the time, they acted like siblings rather than father and son. Keeping secrets from him didn't settle well with Nyell.

"What I'm about to tell you, it stays between us, alright? You're not telling anyone, especially not Isa!"

"…?"

"Promise!"

"Alright, I promise. What's wrong, son?" 

"The bastard is my destined mate."

"Your what?!"

"He's my destined mate!"

Corriel blinked his emerald eyes, which were very similar to his son's, before bursting out laughing. He knew he shouldn't laugh, he really shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. Nyell had always hated the man, the chief of the so-called biggest jerks in the world. He couldn't count how many times a day Nyell cursed Allen, wishing death upon him. When they prayed before dinner, he often heard his son ask for lighting to strike Allen. Yet, it turned out that he was his destined mate! Oh, the irony!

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry," Corriel cleared his throat, only to add, "At least he's a man."

"Oh, shut it! A woman wouldn't have been as mortifying!"

Corriel laughed harder at his son's exasperated sob. It was a well-known fact that you didn't choose your destined mate. Moreover, werewolves rarely got to meet their soulmates, so when it happened, it was supposed to be a joyful event. But for Nyell, who didn't even believe in fate, it was the worst thing that could happen. 

Burying his head in his hands, Nyell wanted to disappear. Why did his father love to tease him so much? And why did he tell him about his sexuality? He almost regretted it now. Men liking men wasn't banned in his tribe, but it wasn't very well seen either. He had hesitated a long time before telling his father, only to realize that Corriel didn't care about one's preference. As long as his son was happy with his partner, what else mattered?

"So, what are you going to do?"?" Corriel brought back the subject at hand after a good laugh. "Whatever decision you take, I'll respect it."

"What else can I do but accept his offer?" Nyell rolled his eyes. "We need his help. We have lost enough people as it is, and we're at our wits' end."

Both men sighed. The White Moon tribe's help was like a pie falling from the sky as its tribe members were well-known for their shamans, and when nothing made sense, the only thing to do was ask shamans for answers. They guided people in life and their souls in death. They could connect with the gods and bless their brethren. If anything, they were mythical beings that inspired both awe and fear in people.

Although Nyell's tribe did have a shaman, she wasn't the best. Trances weren't her forte, and she barely could recognize medicinal herbs from poisonous ones. She almost killed Nyell once, feeding him the wrong plant. On the bright side, she had a talent for bandaging people's wounds and replacing bones.

"Alright, let's not delay things," Nyell grunted as he sprung to his feet. "I'll go tell the bastard my decision. Wait for me."

"Try not to kill him."

"Can't promise anything!"