"The best trackers are people who can move quietly and use their senses for a long period of time without tiring. Endurance is key for this profession, as is patience," Avery nods, and Roman nods with her.

"Trackers are essential. They're often seen as softer than the warriors, and they are, but they have to be able to fight. They can fight for longer than most warriors can, which is a huge advantage to them when they're hunting someone," Roman continues, looking to Avery to continue.

"A rogue expects brute force and doesn't expect weapons from trackers. We equip ours with handguns - easy to use, and easy to hide. I don't know what you guys here do," Avery glances at Roman, and he holds eye contact with her for a moment.

"We usually carry knives, and a lot of them at that. Handguns is a good idea, but the noise can attract more unwanted attention," Roman shrugs.

"A bigger reach is a bigger advantage," Avery responds quickly, and there's a pregnant pause before anyone speaks.

"Warriors are the strongest. They don't have to be the biggest, but they have to be the sharpest in battle. It takes more than big muscles to win a fight," Roman moves on, and a girl giggles.

"Yeah, Marcus learned that yesterday," she grins, and the crowd snickers.

"Yes, he did. I hope you all learned to never underestimate the person across from you. You never know what tricks they have," Avery smiles, nodding to the girl in the crowd in appreciation.

"Any questions?" Avery asks, her eyes roving over the crowd,

"How many years does it take to train as a warrior?" One boy asks, and Avery looks to Roman for his answer.

"It varies from pack to pack. Here, generally three years. In those three years, you may take part in pack exchanges, or diplomatic missions," he rumbles, and some people in the crowd perk up.

"How about trackers, for your pack, Alpha Wilcott?" One girl chirps up, leaning forward to hear the answer.

Avery doesn't correct the girl on using the wrong title. Instead, she takes a minute to think.

"We say four to five years, which is almost double most of the packs' times. We believe it takes time to perfect your craft, and you can't rush perfection," she winks, and she gets some laughs from some of the teenage girls.

"What if you don't want to be a warrior or a tracker?" One boy asks, looking a little disgruntled.

"There are administrative roles that need to be filled everywhere. We have a lot of jacks-of-all-trades, master of none, in a lot of commanding roles, so don't worry if you don't hear about anything that suits you perfectly," Roman nods.

"Exactly, as your Alpha said, you don't have to fit one of the roles we spoke about today. You might decide to go to university in the human world, as I did, before pursuing any pack role," she declares, and that raises some eyebrows.

"What did you study?" A girl asks eagerly, and all of the crowd is now intently listening.

"Economics, politics, and law," Avery shrugs, and Roman raises his eyebrows a little.

"Why are you not an Alpha?" One boy asks curiously, and Avery clenches her jaw.

"Because I'm not. Next question," Avery responds in a slightly snappy tone, and Roman leans his back against a tree near him.

"How did you become a Deputy Alpha?" One girl asks, furrowing her brows.

"Training," Avery replies shortly, gazing around the clearing, red crawling up her neck slowly.

Maybe it would be better just to tell them, so they stop asking questions and poking around?, Sonya suggests quietly, and Avery realises she dropped her mental block while she was answering questions.

They'd put you down, so no, Avery responds, a scowl forming on her face.

"What's your favourite type of training?" Someone fills the silence, and Avery shrugs, looking to Roman.

"I like running, I like building my endurance," he coughs.

"I like sparring," Avery sighs, leaning against a tree nearby Roman's.

"Are you and our Alpha dating?" A girl near the front smirks and everyone else releases chuckles.

"No," both adults say in unison, and every teenagers eyes suddenly flash black for a moment, as do Alpha Romans.

Moments later, everyone is back to normal, but they all look more serious and sombre.

"Sorry, Deputy Alpha Wilcott," they quickly say in unison, and Avery furrows her brows.

The teenagers quickly get up, and they all gradually leave, much to Avery's surprise and extreme confusion.

"Okay, goodbye then?" Avery mutters, giving a sarcastic wave to the turned backs of the children.

"They have to go do their homework," Roman shrugs casually, while Avery picks up her stuff with a bit of a slump to her shoulders.

"Cool," Avery sighs, walking after the teenagers with her bag slung over her shoulder, "good working with you today."

"We could go on a run?" Roman calls after her and Avery scrunches up her nose.

"Nah, I don't think so. I think I'm just gonna go back to the house, shower, and relax for a little bit before dinner. Thanks for offering, though, maybe tomorrow?" She suggests, making her strides longer and quicker.

Roman catches up with her with relative ease, strolling beside her and looking down at her.

"Is there something wrong with me?" He asks curiously, and she grits her teeth.

"Me not wanting to go on a run with you has nothing to do with you, I want to have a shower and a nap," she responds rather coldly, feeling rather taken aback by her own tone after she says the words.

"Well, why didn't you kiss me back last night then?" He pouts, a grumpy expression taking over his face.

Avery almost laughs, until she realises he's being serious, he wants to know.

"God, I didn't know it was such a bruise to your ego," she snorts, switching the arm her bag is on.

"It is, so why won't you kiss me back?" He pesters, and he continues asking this question for five minutes.

Every passing minute brings Avery's temper up by a couple of points, and when they get near the edge of the forest, Avery loses it and pins him against a tree.

"You have a mate," she roars, her voice echoing throughout the empty forest.

Roman lets her pin him, surprise crossing his face.

"She's dead?" He responds, but it almost sounds like a question.

"No, she isn't, we would have heard," she spits in his direction, dropping him from her hold in disgust.

"Not if I didn't want you to," he whispers, and suddenly, she's being pinned against the nearest tree.

A shriek of surprise escapes her lips, and she flounders in the air trying to get down from where he has her elevated to.

"I have contacts," she snarls, and he smirks.

"Not good ones, it would seem," he murmurs, getting closer to her face.

Let him! Just give in! Sonya yips, practically singing.

Avery gasps as Roman pulls her closer to him - or, rather, he gets closer to the tree, effectively sandwiching her between the bark and his body.

Do it, Sonya hollers, let him do whatever he wants.

Avery looks at Roman through half-closed eyes, looking up through her eyelashes.

He unleashes a growl and presses his lips to hers.

She doesn't move for a second, but she quickly returns the kiss this time, putting a hand on the back of his head, and the other around his shoulders.

Her legs automatically wrap around his waist to try to stop herself sliding down, and he relocates one of his hands to her ass, squeezing roughly.

She lets out a squeak of surprise, and he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

Sonya is cackling away in Avery's head, and she has to stop herself from gritting her teeth - it probably would have meant she bit off part of Roman's tongue, and she really doesn't need that sort of situation to deal with today.

She quickly zones back into the kiss, moving her lips with his.

They make out for a few minutes, and then he pulls his lips away from hers, beginning to kiss down her neck, a devilish expression on his face.

What the fuck am I doing? Avery panics, and Sonya perks up, paying attention as Roman slowly pulls off his hoodie from her body.

I've got this, Sonya replies confidently, as Roman sucks gently on part of her neck.

Exactly five seconds later, Roman has his lips against something furry, causing him to open his eyes.

He makes eye contact with a wolf, who smirks, before quickly jumping down and scampering off into the trees.