Snow was fluttering down around the car in thick, fluffy flakes.
Anna stared out the window at the bold torrent of white and fog, brow knit. "You should probably stop and ask for directions…"
"Alphas do not, especially a king," Arthur began in a huff, "ask for directions."
"Isn't that a little cliché?" Anna asked, although to be fair the stereotype typically only applied to men in sitcoms or commercials as far as she was aware.
Werewolf alphas hadn't exactly saturated mainstream media, being a secret and all, but she could see how the mold applied all the same.
Brash, bull-headedness translated quite accurately. Still, the weather worried her and she was fairly convinced that they were lost.
The strange, winding country roads they navigated through the snow seemed to convey that qu
