A/N: This is another backstory fic so it takes place before all seven of them meet, and details how Markson met.

I also wanted to say a quick thank you for all the comments so far, I haven't been replying to them recently but please know I read every single one of them, and they really do make me so happy and motivate me to continue with this <3

~~

Jackson slowed his steps, circling the area silently as he locked in on the scent of fresh prey. It hadn’t noticed him yet, so Jackson only continued to circle closer, staying low and waiting for that perfect moment to strike.

He couldn’t afford to be impatient now, the pack was too desperate. He himself was too desperate, too hungry to imagine letting this rabbit get away.

It wasn’t even winter yet, but already, they were struggling. No one was quite sure of the exact cause, but earlier that fall, a mysterious epidemic had suddenly hit the area. Luckily, it didn’t seem to affect shifters (or even humans, for that matter), but as far as they could tell, nearly all other wild mammals in the vicinity were at risk.

Most catastrophic for the pack was the deer population that already been down this year was now at such a dangerously scarce level that their alpha, Taecyeon, had declared a ban on hunting them altogether, despite their own desperate situation. There was legitimate fear that their local deer population would be eliminated altogether otherwise.

They weren’t quite sure exactly how far the epidemic had reached, either. Their pack’s official territory covered a good 60 square miles, and not a corner of it had been spared.

Apparently, Taecyeon had been discussing with Minjun the possibility of a temporary move, but that idea had been met by both unease and hesitant unwillingness from the rest of the pack.

It wasn’t so much the idea of living as humans for a while that scared them, but the notion that they had to live among other humans. Jackson’s pack wasn’t an entirely feral group of shifters; it was actually quite the contrary. They hunted as wolves and, quite frankly, spent at least half of their time fully shifted, but still maintained a human village with basic functioning infrastructure. It lay in the center of their territory, composed of a few shabby-looking but sturdy huts. All pups received a competent basic education, and were required to master human etiquette and social skills.

Either way, Jackson himself wasn’t too keen on the idea of hiding out with humans for a while. But unlike his pack-mates, his reason was still a bit different. With his very few encounters with the fragile beings, he really hadn’t thought they were all that bad.

Instead, Jackson’s concern was that the teasing would become unbearable if they ever had to live with humans.

Jackson’s situation was a bit...unique, to say the least. He was the only non-purebred wolf shifter in their entire pack. Three-fourths wolf and one-fourth husky, to be exact. His grandmother on his father’s side had been the one to join a pack of wolf shifters. And not just join a pack, but become the new alpha female.

For the most part, if you were unaware of Jackson’s heritage, it’d be impossible to identify him as such just from physical observation. He was a bit on the smaller side, yes, but his stockiness and powerful muscles more than compensated for what he lacked in height.

But still, his puppy-ish behavioral tendencies were what gave it away. Wolves were already very tactile creatures with strong bonds rooted in physical contact, but Jackson often craved affection and affirmation beyond a point of wolfy reason. He lived to please, and that tell-tale wag of his tail when he couldn’t control himself only served as a reminder of his “unpure” origins.

He was teased about it on a regular basis, nothing too serious as Taecyeon kept everyone in line- and of course not everyone treated him differently- but still. Jackson was fully aware of the few who would gladly see him booted from the pack for the sole reason of lineage. He could only imagine how bad the “dog” and “puppy” and “oh look there’s your master” jokes would get if they actually had to live among humans for a time.

So currently, the best thing he could do to avoid this crisis was to help the pack hunt as much as possible. Jackson couldn’t help a feral grin when he finally got close enough to the rabbit that the white underside of its tail was visible.

Jaws opened, a large pink tongue running over sharp teeth in anticipation.

It was at this moment that the rabbit also noticed the precarious situation it was in. In a flash it was off, dashing away in an attempt to escape with its life.

Unfortunately for the rabbit, Jackson had been ready.

With a powerful leap, Jackson pounced, jaws snapping mercilessly through the neck of the poor creature, teeth puncturing the jugular instantaneously. The rabbit only managed to kick a few times weakly before going completely limp.

Jackson almost let out a howl of glee, but luckily with his mouth so preoccupied, he wasn’t able to. Carefully, he deposited the rabbit on the ground, sniffing at it carefully in an attempt to determine if it had been healthy.

Satisfied, he’d been just about to pick it back up to bring back to their village, when a shadow suddenly fell over him.

Startled, Jackson looked up, only to have his eyes forced shut by a sudden fierce gust of wind. There was a swooshing noise, and when Jackson finally managed to open his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of his prey being snatched up by a red-tailed hawk.

Jackson immediately snarled, lunging forward with his claws outstretched in an attempt to bring down the bird. The hawk let out a screech as it angled itself dangerously in order to avoid Jackson’s claws, straining to keep aflight.

It was now that Jackson probably unconsciously registered the fact that this raptor was no ordinary bird of prey, but a shifter. This was also probably why his jaws chose to close around the rabbit instead of feathers.

There was a brief struggle, a few seconds when both were caught in the tense struggle, neither able to gain the upper hand. And then Jackson lost his balance, unable to grapple with his two front paws while only being supported by his two hind legs. He unwillingly dropped to the ground but dragged the hawk down with him, its wings flapping frantically as it attempted to avoid being crushed.

By some of luck, the hawk managed to regain control, just barely clinging onto the rabbit as it mustered enough strength to shoot itself backwards a few feet, before finally plummeting to the ground, talons still firmly embedded in the flesh of the rabbit.

The moment Jackson’s paws had touched the ground he was already snarling and rushing forward at the fallen bird, teeth bared in anger.

There was no time for the hawk to be able to take flight, but dodging would’ve been an easy enough matter. Jackson anticipated as much but didn’t particularly care; his goal was the meal behind.

But even as Jackson barreled closer, instead of leaping out of the way, the hawk chose to stand it’s ground, letting out a challenging shriek as it spread its wings, guarding the dead rabbit behind it.

Jackson skidded to a stop, glaring at the hawk in disbelief. He growled threateningly, snapping his jaws, but the sharp gaze of the hawk remained firm, and it screeched out a determined cry in response.

So they were at a standoff. The hawk, the suicidal idiot, usually would be no match for Jackson here on the ground. It seemed, however, that it’d caught onto the fact that Jackson was unwilling to hurt him. It had been a gamble, and he’d lucked out.

They probably stood there for a good two minutes, just glaring at each other. And still, both refused to budge.

Jackson had never been a particularly patient person, so it wasn’t exactly surprising when he was the first to make a concession. Not being able to communicate was especially starting to drive him crazy.

So, while eying the hawk warily in an attempt to ensure it didn’t suddenly fly off, Jackson backed up a few steps. When the hawk didn’t move, Jackson quickly shifted into half-form, and then re-advanced forwards. The hawk flared its wings slightly in surprise, but didn’t make any move to flee.

“I caught it, give it back.” Jackson said bluntly.

The hawk only rustled its feathers, gaze piercing as it stared up at Jackson. Its head cocked slightly to one side, as if considering.

The next moment, a red-haired boy stood in its place.

Jackson found himself taking an involuntary step back in surprise; he hadn’t expected the hawk to so willingly follow suit.

As typical of all bird Shifters, the boy was built lightly; average height and slim, but with toned, even muscle. His features were delicate, but the overall sharpness of his angles made him look far from effeminate.

“Well, I saw it first, so what do you say we do?” The boy finally replied. His voice was lower than Jackson would’ve expected from first glance, and it was said with a coldness that declared his determined intent.

“No matter what, I’m the one who made the kill,” Jackson’s eyes narrowed, unrelenting. The other boy only shrugged.

“Well it’s behind me right now.”

And that was when Jackson struck. He suddenly surged forward, faking a left before dashing right and around the other boy. It was now that Jackson noticed how the other boy seemed to be favoring one foot over the other as he attempted to block Jackson, only to stumble back gingerly, hopping on his right foot.

Within seconds, it was over. Jackson successful swiped the dead rabbit off the ground and quickly danced backwards out of reach. But that turned out to be unnecessary as the other boy made no move to follow, instead teetering dangerously on one foot, face stiff with what Jackson could only assume was pain.

At this point, what Jackson should’ve done was shift back to wolf form, and immediately leave the scene with his kill and head back to his pack. He had gotten what he’d come for, and there was no point risking another confrontation.

But Jackson hesitated.

Looking back over his shoulder, Jackson got a glimpse of something the other clearly did not mean for him to see. It wasn’t a look of anger, or despair, or even frustration.

It was only exhaustion, resignation, and the slightest hint of pain.

This expression soon morphed into shock when Jackson turned back around.

“Do you...want to share it?”

~~

Mark liked being alone. He hadn’t always been alone, but after leaving that damned place behind, he’d fallen in love with the absolute peace that came with solitude.

Not that it’d been hard to leave, at least not once he finally figured out exactly what he was. As long as he could remember, he’d been living in that crappy, rundown orphanage filled with only grime, lost innocence, and misery. It housed too many and never had enough resources for them all, resulting in a miserable, cluttered environment that turned the kids on each other.

Ironically, he probably had that giant bully to thank for finally getting him out of there. To this day, Mark still had no idea how that crazy brute got his hands on a metal pipe, but when it had been swung at him, his body had finally decided that enough was enough and shifted for him.

Theoretically, all shifters had full control over shifting, but exceptions have been known to occur, especially when the fight or flight response is triggered. If a shifter was injured, scared, or extremely stressed, involuntary shifting was all too common.

Mark only remembered screwing his eyes shut and leaping backwards, waiting for the imminent pain.

And then somehow, he was airborne.

He’d gone on autopilot from there, following his screaming instincts to get out get out GET OUT. He didn’t have to time to ponder what he was or what he had become, the much more pressing issue of survival pushing everything out of his mind.

He busted out through the window, cutting himself all over with the broken glass, but none of the pain registered.

And then he was free. So utterly alone, but free. The sudden silence except for the whooshing of wind past his ears was so surreal, the silence no longer tainted by faint sniffling or stifled cries.

At that moment, he could only wonder how in the world had he survived so long without knowing the feeling of the wind beneath his wings.

While Mark knew he had only experienced the two extremes of the spectrum and therefore had no way of knowing anything otherwise, it hadn’t been hard to convince himself that solitude would be best for him.  

It was roughly a year later that he’d stumbled upon that rabbit by chance, and also coincidence that the prey he’d been eying for a good ten minutes had also caught the interest of a shifter wolf. It would’ve been easy for Mark to swoop in first, but with his ankle already injured in a bad landing during a storm three days ago, he figured perhaps it would be easier to let the other do the the hard work for him.

Even if it was just a rabbit, the kicks those hind legs could land were no joke.

Getting into an extended confrontation...wasn’t exactly what Mark had planned. He didn’t know what exactly he’d been thinking, or when he thought he’d be able to get a clear shot to swoop down and steal away with the kill. He knew the wolf had been about to head back to that little village, where Mark stood no chance at all.

So when he saw that slight opening, he took it.

And he had immediately regretted it. Sinking his talons into the dead rabbit had been a piece of cake, and even lifting it up hadn’t put too much strain on his ankle.

But as soon as that damn wolf had snagged onto it and pulled down….

It had felt like his talons had been about to be detached from the rest of his leg, the joint suddenly flaring up with pain and it had taken all of Mark’s strength to stay in the air. When the wolf’s jaw had loosened around the rabbit slightly, he immediately took that chance to shoot himself backwards, landing roughly and only straining his ankle more.

He didn’t know what in the world had possessed him in that moment to stand his ground. Maybe it was out of spite, because what the hell why not. He was hungry, injured, and had nothing to lose. Why the hell not get his kicked, it'd been a while since he'd gotten a good fight anyways.

But that damn ankle of his had buckled as soon as he put his weight on it, and it was over in seconds.

All the fight had drained out of him at once. What was the point in resisting further? This world had always functioned under the law of survival of the fittest. Had Mark really expected to win, when all he was good at was running away?

When even then, he was running away from the fact that maybe, he didn't love the loneliness nearly as much as he tried to make himself believe. That perhaps that was why the reason why he had so sought out confrontation.

But Jackson had surprised him.

Jackson.

That was his name, a name that hadn't been far from Mark's mind at any given moment since that fateful day, even though it'd already been three years since.

Three years, and Jackson was still bringing him surprises, and quite literally too.

~~

Mark was now circling nearly a thousand feet up from the ground as he scanned the area, but as usual, the vicinity was clear. It was the most northeastern corner of the wolves' territory, after all, and the only time anyone came up here was to refresh the scent markers declaring the border.

Jackson, though, was the exception. And as Mark zeroed in on his target carefully placed on a slab of rock, he tucked in his wings, pulling into a spiralling dive.

Ankle long healed, he easily snagged up the abandoned scrap of meat while leveling off from the dive, and after a few low circles, he began his ascent once more.

This strange routine had begun not long after their first encounter, or rather, the very next day to be exact.

Then too, Mark had been circling high above and out of sight when Jackson had returned to this very spot where they first shared a kill. He had only watched, wary and suspicious, as Jackson called out for him.

After few minutes of fruitless coaxing, Jackson had sighed, pulling back, but not before he left something behind.

Once again, Mark’s caution was turned into surprise and confusion. After he had triple checked to make sure Jackson had truly left, he returned to the ground, carefully picking up the rather pathetic scrap of meat that had been left on a slab a rock.

Mark had carefully inspected it for a good half hour for any sign of tampering before his hunger finally won over and he devoured it hungrily, finishing it within minutes while still craving more.

When Jackson had returned later that evening, Mark only watched comfortably from a tree as Jackson pumped a fist into the air, ecstatic, whooping and shouting and even wagging his tail when he noticed his offering was gone. He called out to Mark again, but Mark still stayed silent, somehow satisfied by the exaggerated display of joy down below.

Jackson returned the next day as well, this time leaving three whole mice.

And then he returned the next, and the next, and the next and the next and the next. Each time, his reaction was the same: thrilled to see what he’d left the day before had been accepted, and each time, leaving with anticipation for the next.

And Mark was absolutely baffled, because it simply didn’t make sense. But at the same time, he was oddly comforted. He began to look forward to Jackson’s visits, always carefully out of sight, but always watching, always waiting.

Jackson’s excitement, however, couldn’t help but slowly diminish as time went on. It was obvious by the way his calls for Mark grew increasingly resigned, indicating how he was slowly losing hope that he would ever get a response.

Mark didn’t know why he didn’t show himself. By now, it was clear Jackson meant him no ill-will, and if anything, Mark owed him at least that much. So it didn’t make sense why flying down to say a simple thank you would be so difficult.

Though deep down Mark knew, the answer was fear. He was still running away. It was an irrational fear, because Jackson had proved beyond a doubt his persistence. Yet unlike before, now Mark had something to lose, and any attempt at change signified a potential loss.

Maybe, Mark had thought, if he just let things continue as they were, he could indulge in this for forever.

Until when one day, Jackson didn’t come at all.

Mark had finally panicked.

Even though he’d known that that was the most realistic possibility for what would happen in the long run, it hadn’t truly occurred to him that one day, Jackson would give up. That Jackson, not Mark, would be the first to let go. But then Mark only laughed at his own foolishness, because why would Jackson keep trying? Those few months, it was only Jackson giving unconditionally, and Mark taking selfishly.

It had been the time to make a decision.

That night, Mark took down a beaver, and left the entire carcass on that special slab of rock.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to show himself yet, but the least he could do was show Jackson things weren’t so completely one-sided.

Jackson had returned the following day, dragging his feet and mumbling to himself as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing. From the bits Mark could catch, it was clear that Jackson had finally decided to give up, but couldn’t help but come back one last time to check.

When what Mark left him came into view, however, that mumbling quickly turned into a gasp of surprise, followed by a stream of excited babbling and a howl of joy.

He had called for Mark, naturally, and for a fraction of a second, Mark really did consider showing himself. But in the end, he couldn’t quite bring himself to. His first act of initiative had already been a step he’d never imagined he’d take, and revealing himself now was still something he wasn’t quite ready for.

But apparently, that had been enough.

Enough, at least, for three years of a special friendship where not a single word was exchanged.

An unconventional friendship, but the first truly genuine relationship either of them knew.

~~

But nothing lasts forever.

“It wasn’t me! I swear! It wasn’t! I’d never do anything like that!”

Jackson tried to protest, to explain, but if all the angry looks around him were anything to go by, he was convincing no one.

Jackson should’ve seen this coming. He really should have, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the signs. He’d have to have been both blind, deaf, and stupid not to see the way Jokwon had been slowly turning everyone against him. Most wolves already held a disdainful attitude for his lineage in the first place, and spreading a few rumors on top of that had been easy.

Jackson never did anything to refute the rumors. It’d be hard for him to when none of it was said to his face in the first place. But still, he never thought that a few discriminating wolves would put so much effort into destroying him so utterly. He never thought things would go so far, because despite all the teasing, the discrimination, the scorn, he’d never thought of the pack as anything else besides home. There were those who were kind to him, after all, those who treated him no differently from the others.

Pack was family, but now he was being pushed over the cliff by this same so-called kin.

Someone had killed Minjun, and they were all pointing their claws at him.

“I saw him go into Minjun’s hut last night,” one voice shouted out, causing a ripple of snarls to rip through the crowd. Jackson could only cower, flat on his stomach to show his submission as the voices that called out for his punishment and death grew in volume and number.

It had been the same old routine. The night before, Jackson had headed out to the northeastern part of their territory to leave behind one of the of the squirrels he managed to kill that day, in exchange for the raven that had been left there for him. All these years, Jackson had kept this ritual a secret, knowing that it would only bring unwanted trouble if his pack found out.

It seemed now, however, that his little routine had been found out long ago. The timing of his supposed crime had occurred exactly when he’d been off exchanging kills with Mark, so he had absolutely no alibi. And it wasn’t like they would believe him if he told the truth now, either, and he couldn’t exactly call Mark in as a witness.

“Kill the bastard!”

“Avenge Minjun!”

“Kill him! Kill him!”

“Silence!” Taecyeon finally howled, effectively silencing the pack in an instant. Jackson didn’t dare to look up, instead closing his eyes as he waited for his fate to be declared. Despair was already taking over; how could he hold on even to the pretense of hope? If he was to be assigned the blame, there was no way he was going to come out of this alive. Not to mention, Minjun had been beloved to everyone, but especially close to Taecyeon. The ones who framed him probably meant to use this fact to their advantage. In the absence of concrete evidence, perhaps Jackson could’ve been spared. But irrationality brought by grief for a close one could blind even the most just of people. And yes, wolf shifters too.

And perhaps, that could be seen as evidence that this was all a part of something even bigger than Jackson had initially imagined. If Taecyeon became so affected by his emotions, to the point where his judgement was compromised, it would only make things easier for a third party to upset the current leadership of the Pack, especially with Minjun out of the way…

But none of that mattered now. Not motive, not the future. Jackson knew that when it came down to it, no one in the pack would be willing to risk the ire of an angry alpha and speak up for him. It didn’t matter if there were those who believed in his innocence; Jackson’s life wasn’t one worth risking their own for to save.

The silence was heavy, breaths held as everyone waited for the alpha’s final say.

“Minjun’s death is something that must be avenged. The murderer must pay with his own life.”

Taecyeon’s voice was grave, decisive, and an audible tremor revealed his grief. Jackson’s heart plummeted as shouts and howls in agreement sounded out in the air.

This is it, he thought, resigned to his imminent death.

But then suddenly, the clamoring for his painful execution was again cut off.

“HOWEVER,” Taecyeon’s voice boomed out once more, and Jackson’s eyes re-opened with shock as Taecyeon continued to speak, “We’re wolves, we’re not mindless beasts. No one else is dying tonight. I will personally examine the evidence, and a fair trial will proceed tomorrow.”

The burden of grief still carried across in his voice, but even more so, the commanding tone of Alpha made it clear that this decision was not up for discussion. There was a slight rippling through the crowd, and Jackson didn’t even need to look to be able to sense the discontentment, but no one dared speak up opposition.

“Lock him up.”

~~

Mark had a growing feeling of dread the entire day.

Call it a sixth sense, call it being attentive, call it being observant. Or call it none of these things. Regardless, Mark had been unsettled from the moment he’d awoken, and with each passing moment he became more and more sure that it wasn’t a matter of simply being restless.

Something was wrong, or something was about to go terribly wrong.

And when Jackson didn’t show up at all, Mark was wholly convinced.

Jackson always came. Always. He’d never missed a single day in these three years, not even when he’d been sick, or on those rare days when he had no food to share. He always stopped by, if only to chat idly to the air, and of course to pick up Mark’s offering.

That fact alone was more than enough proof to Mark that something had happened to Jackson. Something serious.

Mark wasn’t at all unaware of Jackson’s “position” in his pack. It was something Jackson had let slip quite early on in his random rambles to the open air. At first, of course, Jackson had no way of knowing whether or not Mark was actually present and listening. But after a particular incident where a hunting group had come a bit too close to within earshot of Jackson whinging about the unpleasantness of one particular pack member, Mark had been forced to fly overhead to let out a shriek of warning.

Ecstatic that Mark had cared enough to make a brief appearance, even if it was from so high up he’d barely been visible, Jackson only took it as further motivation to keep talking because he finally knew Mark was actually listening. It became a way for him to destress, an opportunity to get all the accumulated injustices off his chest and know that someone cared enough to listen.

With these particular bits of information, it hadn’t been hard for Mark form the suspicion that Jackson wasn’t exactly safe in his pack. Not now, and perhaps he’d never really been.

Up until this point, Mark had taken on caution to be a lifestyle. Confronting Jackson had been the most reckless thing he’d ever done, and he’d taken a special care to never be so rash again, to never make himself so vulnerable and at someone else’s mercy.

But it seemed Jackson must’ve made an even bigger impact than Mark could’ve ever imagined, because without taking any additional time to think, to consider, to plan, Mark threw caution to the wind.

Literally.

Nighttime flying had never been a particularly favored pastime of Mark’s, but now he hurtled through the night air with an urgency he’d never ever experienced. He had a few close calls, when he swooped down lower over the treetops, one branch grazing the tip of his wing and almost tipping him completely off-axis, but he only flew on, powered by a fear that hadn’t awakened in so long.

Fear for another.

~~

Finding the hut where Jackson was being held was easy. Slipping his way inside was almost just as easy. Despite being a bird of prey, Mark was still much smaller than a wolf. Besides, the two guards Taecyeon had stationed outside were on watch for a wolf’s attempted escape, not for some bird to slip in through the chimney. The cover of darkness made it all too simple.

Landing on the ground, Mark let out a breath of relief when he realized the wolves hadn’t bothered to station a guard inside with Jackson. The latter was currently curled up on the ground miserably in half-shift, shivering slightly.

A boy soon replaced the raptor.

“Jackson?”

Jackson almost jumped out of his own skin at the sudden whisper of his name, just barely holding back a surprised scream as he jerked upright. Just for good measure, though, Mark slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent any potential loud noises from escaping.

Eyes adjusting to make out Mark’s figure in the dark, Jackson gaped, his eyes turning even wider if possible. Mark pressed a finger to his lips, signalling him to stay silent, and when Jackson nodded, he slowly removed his hand.

“Mark?! How did you-- why are you-- do you even know what--?” Jackson’s half-formed questions began to spew out almost immediately, confined to a whisper but his tone just as forceful.

“You didn’t come today,” Mark answered simply while Jackson continued to gawk at him.

“But-- You--”

“Questions later,” Mark cut him off sharply, already straightening to circle the room, examining the possible exits. “Let’s get you out of here first.”

“But, do you even know what happened? They think I murdered Minjun! I can’t just...”

Jackson’s whisper was full of anguish and Mark found himself clenching his fists involuntarily. He turned back around to face Jackson, who now wore an expression of helplessness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Mark admitted freely, his voice so quiet it was just barely audible. Jackson moved closer on instinct, and Mark, too, took a step forward, drawn in by Jackson’s eyes. They were so expressive, even in the dark; there was fear, there was uncertainty, there was panic, but there was also a flicker of hope in those shining depths.

Hope that Mark had ignited, and he now had to take responsibility for.

“I don’t know what happened, but I know I trust you,” Mark began slowly, voice shaky as he tried to articulate the sudden mess of emotions swirling in him. Jackson inhaled sharply in shock and Mark almost winced, but he forced himself to go on. “And that even though all these years I’ve given so little in return, you still, somehow, seem to trust me a little too. I don’t know why, I don’t much at all, but I know that much. And that’s why, we’re getting out of here.”

This was the most Mark had spoken in years. Words had never come so easily to him, but staring into Jackson’s eyes, watching the hope in them grow, he somehow managed to get it right.

“I...won’t be able to come back, will I? Ever,” Jackson finally whispered.

“No,” Mark responded resolutely, trying to ignore the painful lurch of his heart. There was no point lying about something they both knew already.

Jackson’s eyes fluttered shut briefly as he exhaled, face screwing up in a pained expression. Mark held his breath as he waited, the adrenaline rushing through his veins making him feel both charged and weak at his knees.

When Jackson reopened his eyes, they were steely, determined.

Mark released the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Let’s get out of here.”

~~

Contrary to Jackson’s initial assumption, his escape required no fighting, no close chases. It seemed Mark had learned after all, that confrontation wasn’t always the best solution.

Now miles away, Jackson looked back over his shoulder at the rising smoke still visible above the trees. The fire Mark had set had been perfectly placed; started in the dry brush, it had grown out of control almost immediately. It was far enough from the village so the pack would be able to get it under control before it reached the residential huts, but close enough where true panic would’ve been ignited, the threat imminent enough to call for the mobilization of the entire pack to douse the flames.

As soon as the two guards had left, deeming the hut Jackson had been confined in to be sufficiently locked up and tying Jackson up as well just to be safe, Mark had swooped back in, slicing Jackson’s binds easily with his talons.

From there, picking the lock only took a few seconds more (again courtesy of Mark’s talons), and they were swiftly on their way.

Well, not before burning the hut Jackson had been held in to ground as well.

Mark, noticing Jackson had suddenly stopped, swooped down from where he’d originally been circling above to perch on Jackson’s shoulder. His deadly sharp talons rested gently on fur, careful not to penetrate the flesh.

Mark rustled his feathers slightly, restless.

Will you regret this?

Jackson tore his eyes away from the smoke, attention turning on the hawk settled on his shoulder.

No.

I trust you.

A/N: Please do leave a comment if you enjoyed <3