The Law of The Pack
#8 of The Law of the Pack
It is the law of the pack... Young wolves heard that, every day of their lives. Every disappointment, it is the law of the pack. It is the way it has always, and will always be. The name called out changed; _Jimmy! James! Jim! _ from time to time, but he never could avoid the oppressive law of the pack.
"James Michael Darnay, get over here, right now!" I got up, still tired, and stretched, before shouting toward the front of the cave.
"Coming, Mom!" I yawned, and exposed a set of white teeth that I took good care of, because I knew (from many scoldings) that I would need them until the day I died. I wound my way to the front of the cave, avoiding a dozen other snoring wolves, and met my mother at the front of the cave. She was only slightly smaller then I, but she was capable of being a vicious bitch, if provoked. Needless to say, I'd gotten nipped on the tail enough in my life to learn respect for her wishes.
"Your father wants to see you, up on the Howling Rock, now," Emily said sweetly, brushing Jim's fur with her muzzle.
"Mom," I whined, "Dad never talks to me up there unless it's something boring, and more often then not useless! Please, can I just go back to sleep?" Emily growled, and settled the matter right then and there. I paced out of the cave, and climbed up the steep stone hill to the great Howling Rock, which was a special place to our pack, though no one really ever bothered to explain why. My father was sitting on his haunches at the end of the rock, simply staring at the full moon, and I also felt myself somewhat inclined to howl at it as I walked toward the ledge that hung out over the hill beneath our cave.
"Dad?" I asked, cautiously padding up next to him, and sitting down on my back haunches.
"Son, there's something I need to talk to you about," my father said, sighing.
"Oh here we go," I thought, rolling my eyes.
"Every pack must have an Alpha, who must lead the pack through times both good and bad. It is the law of the pack, and it always has been. It always will be so, also. I feel as though the time has come to choose a successor. I won't be around forever, and I am not getting any younger. I need someone who is strong, but also wise, and who will admit his mistakes, but avoids making ones big enough to hurt the pack. I wondered, who would you choose?" I was taken aback. My father never asked me for input regarding the running of the pack, let alone of this magnitude.
"You're asking me?" I asked, nervously backing away slightly.
"Yes, son, I'm asking you who you believe would be capable of leading this pack," my father replied. I took another step back, afraid this was not what it seemed, and that I was going to end up hurt.
"I..." I said, not sure, "I... Don't really... know who would make a good Alpha..." I stammered, genuinely confused.
"Surely, you must know someone who can do the job," my father said.
"Well," I said, thinking. "Hey, wait a second, you don't mean... You aren't asking me... You can't possibly be!"
"I've given it great consideration, and I've chosen my successor as Alpha. I want you to lead your pack, son." I cocked my head sideways at what I believed was humor, something altogether unknown to my father.
"You can't be serious?" I said, to which he nodded. "Wouldn't one of the other wolves be better suited?"
"Well," my father replied, "You're the oldest of my three sons, and I would keep it in this bloodline at all costs." I grew slightly irate at this point, and I said something I probably shouldn't have.
"Yeah, well what if I say no? Maybe I don't want to be Alpha," I said, worried that I would screw up and cost lives. My father growled, and turned to face me.
"It is the way it is, son, and it's time you accept your responsibility," my father "you can't go on living your life the way the Omegas do. Life is responsibility, not all fun and games. It is the law of the pack, the way it is. You'll start Alpha training tomorrow morning, end of discussion." At this point, I had had enough.
"Yeah, well what if I say no?" I asked, fed up. "Maybe I like my life the way it is; maybe some of the Omegas are more fun then half the people I should be hanging out with, and maybe I don't want this job. You never even stopped to think about what I want. You never do!"
"Pup, you had best not talk to me like that," my father growled, "or you won't like what I'll do. I've given you an honor, and you would be wise to accept it, and make do with what fate hands you. I don't want to hear anything further about it, you're starting training, or else."
"Or else what?" I asked, sarcastically. I recieved a sharp paw to my muzzle for my lip, and felt a drop of blood run down my snout. Shock crossed both of our faces, and I backed up, before turning to run.
"Wait! Wait, Jim, I'm sorry!" My father shouted to me, as I bounded down the side of the hill. He didn't try to chase me, though, as I ran, and ran, through the pines and the oaks, past hundreds of trees I had never seen before. I ran for close to an hour. Eventually, I got tired, and stopped, panting. I knew where I was, at a place I had discovered while exploring. I had been here several times with some of my friends, and I knew it was safe from prying eyes and ears, due to its location. It began to drizzle, and I crouched up underneath the shelter of a tree, feeling the pain of the cut on my muzzle, and the pain of being smacked around by my own father. A tear rolled down, and mingled with the blood that oozed from the wound.
Back at the den, my father slowly advanced down the hill, his head hung low. Emily was waiting for him at the entrance to the den. "William, what is wrong?" she asked, seeing the look on my father's face.
"Jim is gone. I told him, and he spoke out against me, and... I hit him, and he ran. I am ashamed," William told his mate.
"Oh, William," Emily said, "He'll be back, don't you worry. He may act like a child, but, deep down, our son is a leader. It might just take him some time to realize what he is. He'll be back..." William nuzzled his mate softly, and walked into the den to take his place at the head of the sleeping pack of wolves that he commanded. He turned to face away from his packmates, so that none of them could see the tear that dripped from his eye.