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Chapter 2: Reality Check

The cool temperatures of the morning had become more moderate with the rising of the sun and as the fiery, golden orb climbed higher and higher into the sky, the soft and gentle breeze steadily became more pronounced across the flat plains of the training grounds, teasing the grass in varying intermittencies that made it appear as though it were a rippling sea of green.

Twenty five wolves stood in the geographic center of the field where the trees and shrubbery gave way to knee high grass and miscellaneous ground vegetation. Of these twenty five canines, only five were esteemed alphas, while the remainder of those in attendance consisted of students. As was decided during the formation of the Central Pack, ten students were sent from the Eastern half while the remaining ten hailed from the West. They were each of them unique in their own sense, some possessing the same color pelt as others, but there was not a one that shared a personality which was directly similar to any other.

Most different in the group, and the oldest of the students, was Humphrey. Nineteen wolves were absolutely thrilled to have been elected to serve as the next generation of alphas, and made such excitement tangible through excessive chatter and even little games of folly; but he, on the other hand, remained aloof of such elated demonstrations. Not that he was trying to appear to be more mature than they were. He was more so too nervous to bring himself to do anything except stand alone with his eyes on the ground, locked away in absolute silence. He could feel his heart pounding deep inside of his chest, feel his body trembling and his face heating up from the blood that rushed into his cheeks and he could feel his stomach balling up once again into tight knots which threatened to send his breakfast out into the grass.

Winston's eyes turned intermittently between Humphrey, the group of students, and the four instructors that stood before him, speaking of lessons that had been set up for the first week and most particularly, he spoke of Humphrey.

"... an omega he may be, but I do see some potential in him if he is given proper guidance," Winston explained to the four standing before him.

"It's still never been done before, sir," a tan, Western originated instructor reasoned respectively, "Omegas are omegas for a reason. I just worry about his physical and psychological capacities. What if he can't handle the training? What if he can't handle carnage and blood of battle?"

Winston scowled slightly, but nodded.

"We are in a time of peace, Miles," he answered, "our packs have united and the Northern Guard reports no hostilities with the North, so the worst he'll see right now would be a dead caribou."

Winston's words were sensible, but at the same time, they remained vague in pertinence to the question presented, and this in turn brought about this question from a blonde female.

"But has he ever been exposed to blood and death?" she asked him, "After all, omegas don't tend to take part in killing anything. What if, by some unseen series of unfortunate events rises, and war does ensue? Alphas have to sometimes cross a line, Winston. Do you believe that he would be capable of taking another's life if he had to?"

There was a moment of silence, then Winston spoke.

"Humphrey was forced to kill his own father when he was but a pup," Winston replied flatly, "that poor kid has been exposed to more crap than any wolf ever deserves. He is well aware of how it feels take a life."

This confused the blonde wolf and the red furred male that stood to her right, for they had lived in the West their entire lives and had not heard of or seen such events.

"But... wait..." she began, expressing her befuddlement through her muddled tone, "Jack and Mary never-"

Winston held up a paw, silencing her.

"Humphrey was not originally born to our pack," he informed, finally breaking to them, one of the deepest secrets that the Alphas possessed, "Jack and Mary are not his biological parents."

This brought awed expressions to all who had gathered.

"But... how-"

"I found Humphrey half starved to death near our border a little under two years ago," he confessed, "terrified, mute, and all alone."

?&?

It was a miracle that the pup could even force himself to be mobile with the condition that his paws were in. There was no padding left on even a single digit, just dried scabs that split and peeled as his journey led him further and further from his home. With each agonizing step that he took, more and more dirt would mix in with his blood, only adding to his afflictions, and deep inside of his body, he could feel his stomach crying out for sustenance. He wasn't sure if anybody was even looking for him anymore, and by now, he had pretty well stopped caring if he were being followed. He wanted to stop, to lie down and quit, but no matter what will he tried to impose upon his beaten paws, he could not prevent them from carrying him forward. He slept little, and any sleep that he did achieve was done so on his paws, and when he would wake up, he would feel no better, for his sleep was restless, haunted. He did not know why this was happening to him, what it was that drove him so. Maybe it was the memories, the fear of his past coming back to find him or the guilt for what he had done that drove him so mechanically along; all he did know was that he could never go back, not after what had happened.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe he wanted to get as far away from that place as he could possibly get, to outrun those things that troubled him so; but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that no matter how far he were to run, he could never escape the memories. They would be forever burned into his mind.

Tears no longer snaked through the fur on the pup's face as he no longer possessed the ability to cry. All of his tears, equaling perhaps that of the amount of tears he would have cried throughout the entirety of his life, had been shed already, in only a matter of two weeks, for he cried for more than his losses. He cried for the anguish that he felt in his body, for that which incessantly taunted his mind, and he cried for the sake of crying. He cried because he wished that he could stop, because he wished that he could die, and he cried because he knew that such wishes would not be granted. Though tears no longer stung his eyes, he still sobbed. His throat choked his breaths sporadically, causing him to sniffle constantly. This in turn compromised his ability to breathe and further drained the energy that he already didn't have to begin with and henceforth made travel that much more difficult. But despite this, his paws continued to plod through the frigid, slushy mud, incapable of halting, just as his mind would be forever incapable of forgetting...

"Dad?"

The pups took a step closer to the back of the grey-coated wolf that sat silently before them, his head low. At his paws, they could see a face, normally flawless and beautiful, with silver fur and laughing, golden eyes, now splotched and matted in a deep, crimson liquid.

The pup blinked and grimaced, trying to force the scene from his mind, but it continued to play, refusing to leave him.

"Dad, what's going on?" the grey pup asked, stepping forward while pushing his tan furred sister behind him protectively.

His father's ears, once flat against the top of his skull, perked to the sound of his voice and he turned, revealing slightly more of the silver body that lay at his paws. The pup could now see more of the crimson liquid spread across the silver body's shoulders, pooled under its head and neck, and could even see some of it splattered upon his father's chest, his face, and his paws.

"Nothing, Humphrey," he replied flatly and turned to the front once more, "mommy is just resting is all. Let her sleep. She's very tired."

Humphrey's breaths became increasingly choppier and he wiped his eyes, though it was sheerly out of a habit that he had recently developed, for the tears still did not fall.

Humphrey stepped closer, his paws seeming to inch toward the ground as if testing it to see if it would burn them, and the fur on his back and neck bristling, for, though he did not yet know or recognize the scent of death, his instincts warned him that something was not right and that he should be cautious of whatever danger hid in the void. With this pace he approached, his body growing tense and tenser as he drew nearer, lowering his head until it was slightly lower than his shoulders and sampling every inch that he gained with an anxious nose. Six feet, four feet, two feet...

Humphrey swallowed laboriously at the lump that began to form in his throat and he continued to choke.

His father had not become aware of Humphrey's approach until he was right beside him and he turned quickly to the pup, pushing him away roughly with his paw, but Humphrey had seen more than enough.

His father claimed that she was sleeping, yet her eyes were opened, as was her side, the top of her head, and the underside of her neck. A section of her side had been peeled away near her ribs, exposing the bones, and beneath her and all around her was more of the crimson liquid, such liquid that he knew now to be coming from her.

Humphrey did not realize it, but his entire body trembled and his fur bristled involuntarily on end, his lips writhed back from his bright white fangs, and a low growl began to rumble down in the base of his throat.

Humphrey did not know much, being a pup, but he knew his mother was not sleeping. If she was, her eyes would have been closed, and it was not like her to be asleep this early in the day; in fact, it was not like her to be home at all at this time of day due to her obligations that she had to the pack, so why was she here now?

Humphrey stumbled on a root which poked up from the earth and he fell to the ground, striking his head against a rock, and it was here, finally, that he decided that he had had enough. He was finished. He was not going to take another step, not now, not ever. He allowed his eyes to fall closed and as he passed into unconsciousness, the recurring nightmare continued to play, signaling to him, though only to his subconscious, that his time for death had not yet come.

The pieces of the puzzle began to take shape in his mind and then began to fall into place. He realized that he had seen things similar to this in the past, only he had eaten these things that had been brought to him- dead things, things that once lived and now no longer moved. His father had brought him these things, these dead things, and now he realized the truth. His mother was dead, and his father was the one who had made it so. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he stared at his father, then at the lifeless form of his mother at his father's paws, and he began to tremble.

His sister, having been pushed away by Humphrey when he had initially began to question the situation, was still not aware of what was truly happening, and being the curious type, wanted to know.

"Humphrey, what's the matter?" she asked him, though her senses began to warn her of danger as well.

"We need to go," Humphrey told her urgently, tears in his eyes, "right now."

It was at this moment that his father turned to them and rose to his paws, leaving behind him, crimson pawprints to mark his progress toward them.

"Liza run!" Humphrey yelled to her, fearing what would happen had their father had the opportunity to catch them.

Liza, for the moment, locked up, too stunned to move, but when Humphrey shoved her with his shoulder, she came to life and began to run just like he had told her to do. However, the two did not move quick enough and she was caught almost immediately. She cried out with a yelp, causing Humphrey to slam his forepaws into the ground and turn back to look at her, but how he wished he hadn't. How he wished he could have avoided seeing his little sister's head being crushed in his father's jaws and then ripped from her shoulders.

His eyes pinched tightly together and he groaned softly, whimpering and kicking about, turning restlessly from side to side in his haunted and disturbed sleep.

"No!" Humphrey screamed horrified, seeing the blood as it spurted forth like a horrible fountain from the space where his sister's head was once fixed to her shoulders.

His father lifted his head and opened his mouth, flinging her mangled skull skyward, and then turned his eyes down to Humphrey, his muzzle drenched up to his maniacal eyes in the blood of his family, and the pup felt his own blood turn to ice in his veins.

"Come here, Humphrey," his father demanded, taking a step toward him.

"Stay away!" Humphrey cried, backing away, his tail tucked between his legs and his ears folded flat against the top of his skull.

His father looked hurt, but Humphrey knew that this wasn't truly the case. He knew that he would be killed if he allowed his father anywhere near him, just as his mother was killed, and just as his sister was killed.

"Come on Humphrey," he told him, taking another step forward, "come to dad."

"Stay away from me you monster!" Humphrey screamed, turning and running out of his den, into the fading light of the day.

"Humphrey, get back here!" his father yelled and chased after him, catching the eyes of those who had stepped to the edges of their dens to see what all the noise was about.

Those who were closest could only see Humphrey being chased away by his father, but could not see any details other than that, and it was not until the scent of blood reached their nostrils that they became genuinely concerned.

Closer they came until they could see a trail of blood leading toward the den from which the pair had just come, and were quick to follow it. They did not know what to expect when they finally arrived at the den and looked inside, but what they found was enough to make even some of the toughest alphas sick to their stomachs.

Once their initial shock wore off, after a span of about ten seconds or so, the High Alpha of the pack quickly turned to his subordinates, a sort of disguised desperation bleeding forth from his eyes.

"Humphrey needs help," he said to them urgently, "all alphas follow them right now and for the love of all things on this planet, kill that bastard before he does any harm to that pup. Go! Go! Go!"

Humphrey skidded to a graceless halt and ran his eyes up the sheer cliff face that he had so foolishly run himself into. He frantically searched for an alternative route, but the only option was backward in the direction from which he had come and as he moved to take that option, his father appeared before him, blocking his escape. Humphrey gasped involuntarily and slammed his paws into the dirt again then began to backpedal fearfully.

His father stepped closer, though he approached slowly, carefully watching Humphrey's every move.

"Humphrey why did you run?" he asked monotonously, stepping closer.

Humphrey didn't answer, only stepped back, his teary eyes wide with fear.

His father stepped closer, now backing Humphrey up against the cliff. Humphrey felt his tail brush against the cliff face and began to cry harder, knowing that he was now staring death in the face and that there was no way he would win, but as his father stepped closer, as he licked at the blood on his crimson stained maw, he felt a new emotion beginning to take life inside of him. He felt anger beginning to rise in his veins, the deepest, purest hatred one could ever imagine beginning to take life beneath his skin. His body continued to shake and his tears continued to fall, but each tear that was shed was now hot with the rage that boiled inside of him.

His father was nearly upon him, only three feet away from springing distance, and steadily drawing nearer.

"Stay away," Humphrey demanded softly, his voice trembling.

With the anger that was beginning to build inside, he felt courage beginning to rise up in him as well, such a courage being born into him by his fear and his anger, and he bared his teeth against his father. His mane bristled on end, and a low growl beginning to rumble down in his throat.

"You shouldn't have run," his father said, seemingly oblivious to the display that Humphrey was giving him, "that was very bad of you Humphrey, and you know that you must be punished."

Humphrey's teeth clipped together, almost as though he was crunching on his father's bones, and he allowed his growl to rise until it was a terrible snarl.

"So I was just supposed to stand there and let you kill me!" Humphrey demanded, much to the surprise of his father, "if you think I'm going out without a fight, you're wrong. If you're gonna kill me, you'll not leave here without a permanent reminder of what you did today."

His father shook his head from side to side then focused upon Humphrey again.

"You know that fighting me is useless," he said to Humphrey, tensing to spring, "you are out weighed and way out of your league. You'd be lucky to last even three seconds."

Humphrey tensed, ready to move upon the instant that his father would leap.

"We'll see," he said with a growl.

His father, without warning threw himself at the pup with great force, but to Humphrey, time seemed to slow down, giving him time to think, and just before his father could land upon him, he moved to the side, avoiding certain death.

Time returned to normal at this moment and he turned to his father, but was immediately struck in the side of his head by a large paw. He was sent bouncing across the ground and struck the wall with a dull thud, coming to rest on his stomach.

He groaned and began to try to take his paws again, rising starkly from the ground and lifting his head.

He saw his father mid bound as he moved in for another attack and rolled to the side quickly, though this could not have worked better even if he had planned it, for, though this incident occurred by complete accident, he moved in a specific time frame to where his father was too near to the wall to alter his direction and he struck it head first with a loud crack. Humphrey heard him yelp and turned in time to see him fall to the ground. Humphrey, blinded by his rage and his pain, took the opportunity for what it was worth and rushed forward at his father. His father groaned and began to lift his head, but was suddenly struck by something hard that dazed him and forced him to lay his head down again.

Humphrey knew that if he used his paws against his father, he would accomplish nothing, for he was far too weak physically to do any kind of real damage, so he decided to improvise. On his way toward his father he picked up a rock that was on the ground and brought it slamming down upon the side of his head, hoping to level the playing field a little. He lifted his paw to deliver another blow, hell bent upon bashing the bastard's brains out, but he would not get his chance, for as he began to swing his paw downward toward his father's skull he felt claws dig into his underside and he was lifted from the ground then sent hurtling backward. The rock fell from his paw as he struck the ground and he finally came to rest on his side, grimacing from the searing pain that he felt from cuts on his stomach. He chanced a moment to glance down at his body and found that, while his cuts leaked a fairly substantial amount of blood, they were not deep enough to threaten his life, but were deep enough to inflame the muscles, and crippled his motion considerably. His father leapt at him again and Humphrey rolled away just in time to escape from being impaled by his father's claws. Using his momentum, Humphrey rolled to his paws and dodged another attack, though he was consistently slower due to the pain in his stomach.

He jumped away from a swing that his father took at him, but landed wrong and his paws rolled out from under him, sending him crashing down to the ground. He bounced and finally came to rest beside a bush. Humphrey grunted and again tried to stagger to his feet, but as he tried to rise, he was pinned by a large paw.

Humphrey groaned restlessly in his sleep, pinching his eyelids tightly together.

A&?

"Sir, do you smell that?" a grey wolf asked, catching the attention of another older wolf.

He stopped and sampled the wind with his nose, catching the faintest whiff of something foreign, something that clearly did not belong. Not wanting to take any chances, lest the scent was that of a dangerous intruder, he turned to his subordinate.

"Come with me," he said softly, "but be careful. I only smell one, but there could be more."

?&?

He cried out involuntarily and tried desperately to push the paw off of his chest, but his father was simply too strong, rendering him helpless.

"I warned you this was futile Humphrey," he gloated, "but don't you worry, I'll make this quick. After all, I'm sure everybody is just DYING to see you."

Humphrey opened up his eyes with a growl and stared up at his father with hatred boiling forth through his gaze, and it was at this point that pain left him entirely. He felt a dull pop as one of his ribs was snapped, but remained incognizant to the searing pain that shot through his chest.

His father laughed, continuing to press, but Humphrey was not going anywhere yet. He turned his eyes to the bushes behind him, finding a small, but stout stick, one that was fortunately pre-sharpened, and took it into his paws. His father saw this and laughed loudly.

"What do you plan to do with that," he teased, pressing down ever harder.

"I'm gonna kill you with it," Humphrey coughed, causing the larger wolf to laugh even harder.

He lowered his head down near Humphrey's and smiled sinisterly.

"And how do you intend to do that with such a puny-"

His father didn't get to finish, for as his mouth opened long enough for Humphrey to do so, he jammed the stick up into the roof of his father's mouth, near the throat where the flesh became tender. There was a cough, a pop as the stick jabbed through his mouth and into the bottom of his brain, and a groan from his father. Humphrey felt blood and saliva drip onto his forehead then felt the pressure loosen up on his chest and pushed himself out from under his father's paw and rose to his feet, watching as his father slowly died.

His father was brain dead, but his body remained alive, so he staggered around in circles, his mouth agape with the stick still hanging from it, and finally he fell dead to the ground and a small pool of blood began to form around his head. Humphrey, for a moment, stood silently, shocked by what he had done, and as he stared, sound seemed to mute and time seemed at a stand still. He had just killed his father, the wolf whom he had loved from the very depths of his heart, and loved him still, despite the foul deeds he had committed. But how could he think like that? This wolf was responsible for the death of his mother and his sister, and would have killed him as well. How could he still feel love for the wolf who had murdered his family?

He did not get the opportunity to sort the situation out any further, and had he had such an opportunity, his fate may have turned out quite differently, and may have even had such a drastic turn in his life that he would have never set paw in the West, but he was snapped away from his daze when he heard the distant crack of a twig, followed by muted voices. Suddenly thrusted once more into the world of reality, he found himself to be flustered, panicked almost. He didn't know what to do. He had just killed his own father. He was a murderer, and surely when they found out, they would take him away. He couldn't live to face them, could not live to face what he had done, so he did the only thing that seemed rational to him at the time. He ran.

A&?

"Winston," the male called, standing over Humphrey's unconscious body, "it's a pup."

Winston stepped quickly to his side and gazed down upon the tiny pup, watching as he restlessly thrashed about, whimpering, wincing, groaning, growling.

"Where did he come from?" Winston asked.

"I don't know, sir," the alpha replied, "I just found him here like this, but wherever he's from, it certainly isn't anywhere near here. I've never even smelled a scent like his before."

Winston stared down at the pup's unconscious form, taking in his bleeding paws and his weary, hunger-ridden body. He saw blood coating the pup's face, but there were no wounds there to suggest where it might have come from, so he could only guess as from where he had obtained it. He saw on the pup's underside three long cuts that had healed, but were horribly infected due to their lack of care, and finally the bump on the top of his head that would explain why he was unconscious.

A&?

"... I had no idea who he was or where he came from," Winston said to those around him, "but I knew that if I didn't help him he would have died, so I picked him up by the scruff of his neck and carried him home."

The others sat silently, staring at Winston with awe evident in their eyes.

"I had no idea," the blonde wolf said softly.

Winston nodded.

"Eve took care of him, tended to his wounds, and had even planned on adopting him," Winston continued, "but when we learned that Mary was sterile, we gave her and Jack Humphrey to raise as their own."

"So... Humphrey..." Miles began slowly, "how is it that he managed to become so attached to them? I mean, he looks like he truly loves them."

"He does," Winston replied, "it took some time, but eventually he came to see Jack and Mary as the parents he had lost. They love him as a son, just as much as he loves them as his parents. Heck, if I had to make any kind of deduction here, I'd say that they've all but replaced his real parents."

"This is incredible," the blonde said to him, "almost unbelievable."

"Look closely at his stomach next chance you have," Winston said to all who sat around him, "and you'll find the scars from the cuts, just in case you need a little proof, but for now, we need to stick to planning out how exactly it is that we're going to train him."

Humphrey could not hear the conversation that took place, but he could only assume that he was the focal point of the discussion, and this in turn made him feel worse, which only caused his stomach to wrench into even tighter knots.

The other alpha pups continued their folly around him, and even some of them were whispering to each other about him, sniggering, already thinking of ways to prey upon him, for, though he was almost a year older than them, they knew that he was an omega and therefore would stand no chance against them. All they would have to do was buy their time, act a little, and then just as soon as his guard was down, let him have it.

"Students fall in," Winston called to the alphas to be.

The twenty in question gathered themselves and approached, though Humphrey's progress was slow and almost mechanical, carried out by heavy paws

Once all had arrived and sat down, Winston began.

"Future alphas of the East and West, I would like to first impress upon you that this class will be anything but fun like some of you have come to believe," he stated, "it will test your body, your mind, and your courage. Your body will hurt, your paws will bleed, you will be sick, exhausted, you will know how it feels to so close to death that you can shake his boney paw. You will know how it feels to be so physically broken that you will wish that you could go home and settle for a life as an omega, but in time you will learn that you are a whole lot stronger, and also a whole lot weaker than you had previously believed. This class is not for the faint of heart, but I trust that all of you will be able to gut it out and that all of you will walk out of here next spring as fully trained, fully recognized alphas.

Some of the pups smirked excitedly upon hearing this, for they felt as though they had been issued a challenge, while others, Humphrey especially, gulped, feeling an unshakable anxiousness beginning to settle in upon them.

Winston ran his eyes out over the pups, already beginning to separate mentally the wolves from the sheep, but Humphrey remained undecided in his mind for the time being as he did not know as of yet exactly how he would stack up, but he did know that Humphrey had an uncanny tendency to surprise, and this caused him to lean more toward his being a wolf, for, even if the diamond underneath may need a little polish to make it shine, he sensed greatness in the wolf who had married his daughter. He would not have allowed her to marry him if he hadn't.

"Now," he began again, "for the first order of business, you will be divided out into your groups. Miles?"

Said wolf stepped to his side and Winston backed off, allowing him to work.

"Alright," the tan colored wolf from the Western precinct of the Central Packs began, running firm eyes over the students, "Austyn, Matthew, Sloan, and Cole, step forward."

The four pups named did as they were told, though some were more cautious and more hesitant than others.

"The four of you, get to the river right now," Miles commanded.

The pups began to walk toward the river and this caused Miles to scowl.

"On the hop, let's move!" he yelled.

The pups jumped and then began to run, moving quickly toward the river.

Miles turned to Winston, was wished a farewell, then began to jog toward the river to join his students for their first day of training.

The next instructor to step forward was Dakoda, the blonde female from the West and she stared upon them with a piercing blue gaze.

"I need for Ian, Nick, Rain, and Ivan to step forward and then report to the rocks," she said to the group.

Those named rose and took their respective positions before the alpha, awaiting further instruction.

"Good, we're all here," she mused, "but my question to you is why, especially when you all were instructed to report to the rocks."

The pups all looked at each other and shrugged, rising to their feet and beginning to walk toward the rocks, but just as Dakoda opened her mouth to motivate them to move faster, they began to run. Satisfied, she turned to Winston.

"Be seeing you around, Winston," she said, receiving an affirmative nod in response, then moved off to join her students.

Erik, the red furred male from the East, was next to take his place in center stage.

"Zach, Bruce, Berai, and Elizabeth you will go to weight training," he said to them, "and all of you'd better beat me there or else you'll start your day with a two mile run."

With that said he began to jog toward the place designated for weight training, causing the four pups named to panic.

Quickly they turned and began to shove their way roughly out of the group then began to scramble toward their assigned location, but were not hopeful of getting there on time as Erik was already half way there.

As they grew distant, the pups who remained turned forward and their hearts sank into the bottoms of their stomachs, for they had hoped that they would not have to be under the instruction of the large black furred wolf. He was a giant, with harsh emerald eyes, a battle scarred face and half of a left ear. By simply looking at him, one could feel shivers creep down their spine, for he possessed a certain aura of harshness that caused the blood in their veins to turn to ice. Humphrey gulped as he stood before them. He stood a whole head larger than Garth, and thus far, Garth had been the largest wolf he had ever laid eyes on, and under his fur, muscles that were splendid and swollen rolled dominantly into place with each movement he made.

"So this is what I've got to work with?" he mused with a voice as abrasive as sandpaper, running his eyes over the horrified pups, "three pussy-foot alphas and an omega?"

Humphrey felt his stomach lurch into the base of his throat and nearly lost his lunch, but was able to maintain control of his body and lifted his head to the black wolf once again.

"Won't this be fun," he said loudly, "I can't wait to see how our little experiment holds up against the rest of you, though I'd have a hard time calling any of you worthy, but who knows, just maybe you'll surprise me."

Winston smiled and laid a paw on his shoulder.

"Good luck, Cail," he said then turned and walked away to see how other groups were doing.

Cail nodded then turned to the pups once again.

"Now, you will call me Alpha, Sir, or for those who are bold old enough, Captain, but anything else will be treated as insubordination and will be handled in any means that I see fit, is that clear?"

There was no response.

"Looks like we get to start the day off with a few forget-me-nots," he mused with a shake of his head, "line up!"

The pups were shocked to life and scrambled into formation.

"Start running," Cail ordered, "and when I bark forward roll then keep running, go!"

The students began to run quickly, though the alpha pups were significantly faster than Humphrey and that was quickly proven as he was soon a whole six feet behind the others.

Cail saw this but ignored it for the moment and sounded the first bark.

Humphrey had not the first clue as to how to perform a forward roll, but was not going to disobey orders lest he wanted to make them do more, so he tried his best to attempt one, though he wound up turning over his shoulder rather than his head. The other students, though, did as instructed and demonstrated perfect rolls then kept running.

Cail allowed them to travel about another ten yards or so then barked again and once again the students rolled, though, as he had done before, Humphrey failed to perform a forward roll. Cail had expected this and would allow it for now under the hopes that he should figure it out during the exercise.

In the time that it took for him to process these thoughts it was time for another roll so he barked and once again the students rolled.

"Now stop!" he called after they had traveled another ten yards or so.

The students stopped, all except for Humphrey who still needed to finish, but he quickly reached them then turned to Cail, significantly more winded than the others.

"That's one," Cail called to them, "now start running back, and when I bark I want you to crouch then begin to low crawl toward me, and if I catch a single one of you more than six inches above the ground when we low crawl you'll start all over, now begin."

The students began to run and when Cail administered the first bark, the students dropped and began to low crawl, but one was not low enough.

"Jake, not low enough," he called, "everybody back to the line."

There was a groan from the others as they straightened themselves out then began to make their way back to where they had started.

"Go," Cail ordered and they began to run again.

He waited until they got about twenty yards then barked, signaling for them to low crawl, and at first they did quite well, but that changed when one could no longer stand the burn in his legs and straightened himself.

"You can thank your friend Gauge for this one," Cail called, "everyone back to the line."

"God dammit Gauge!" one of the pups yelled, straightening himself out, "stay low!"

Gauge growled, displeased and humiliated by his own weakness, then turned and headed back to the line.

"Go!"

They groaned and took off once more, then began to low crawl once the bark sounded, but they did not get far as they had to go back for Jake.

"Jake, how the hell is it that the damned omega is better at this than you!" Brooke, the only female of the group yelled, "stay low!"

Jake groaned, straightening himself up with trembling legs, then began to head back to the line.

"Go!" Cail said again for the fourth time.

They groaned and took off again, and this time, when the bark was administered, the drill was performed properly. Satisfied, Cail ordered them to rise and then sprint to the other side.

"There's two," he said, "now, for your next drill, you are to run and when I bark you are to stop, jump as high as you can, hit your paws and then immediately fall onto your back, then flip around onto to your chest. Once there, forward roll and then keep running. Go!"

The students took off, low grunts of pain and fatigue from all of them, and traveled about twenty feet or so before Cail administered the first bark.

Immediately, they all stopped and jumped into the air, though Humphrey, in comparison to the others, was jumping low. Cail, though did not care, for, though the point in these drills was to teach discipline, he had an ulterior motive for making the students engage in such laborious activities. He was evaluating each individual's strengths and weaknesses. Jake and Mark needed to work on their low crawling technique, lest they wanted to be spotted by caribou and their hunts to result in failure. Brooke needed to work on her running form and her temper, but was otherwise a fine student, more than capable of being a leader. Michael, one of the largest in the class selected, needed to work on his speed, as he did not yet know how to utilize the strength in his size, and Humphrey, though slow, was a good runner; however, he needed to work on his speed, his endurance, his low crawl form was awful, and he had not the slightest idea as to how to turn a forward roll. He would certainly need to work on that more before their lessons in turning flips.

The students performed the drill as instructed, then continued to run, traveling about another ten yards before Cail barked again and the process was repeated.

Those who ran quick enough, made it to the line after four barks, but Humphrey and Michael, who were just a little bit slower than the others, had to pay for their sluggishness with an extra bark. As they crossed the finish line, Michael only a few steps before Humphrey, they turned to face Cail, their heads low and their tongues lolling out of the front of their mouths.

"Next drill will be log rolls," Cail informed, causing everybody to curse softly under their breaths, "get going."

The students looked to him with lowered heads, but none of them moved.

"What is this? Do none of you know how to log roll?" Cail asked incredulously.

Nobody answered.

"One day you'll break your silence," he said, "you've just earned yourselves two more. Now I ask again, none of you know how to log roll?"

They all groaned in displeasure.

"Wanna make it three?"

"No alpha," Humphrey replied with a pant, causing Cail to turn to him.

"Ah, so we do have a brain in the bunch after all," he mused, "you can thank Humphrey for the deduction of one of your drills, now, do any of you know how to log roll?"

"No alpha," they all replied, winded.

Cail nodded, then turned to Jake.

"Jake, lie down," he instructed.

Jake did as he was told.

"Now roll on your side."

Jake did as instructed and began to roll.

"And there you have it," Cail said, "now the rest of you follow."

They all got down then began to roll on their sides, though some demonstrated treks that were anything but straight.

Humphrey was at first grateful for this exercise, as he was not sure if he could take another running drill without taking a break lest he wanted to fall over dead from exhaustion, but was quick to learn that this was far from the break that he was looking for. The scent of warm grass forced its way invasively into his nose and compromised his breathing, and after a few more feet, he felt his stomach beginning to churn. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, and could feel his mouth beginning to salivate uncontrollably. He knew he was going to be sick before his stomach even began to lurch and stopped on his belly, panting heavily and spitting.

"Humphrey, what's th-"

Cail cut himself off when he saw the first volley of vomit shoot from Humphrey's mouth and into the grass, a putrid mixture of red and yellow. He groaned and then puked a second time, though this time the vomit was choked into his throat and came out in a crumpled chunk of smaller meat chunks which broke apart upon hitting the ground. Cail turned to the students, finding them to have stopped on their stomachs to watch and scowled.

"I did not instruct you to stop," he seethed, and the students continued.

Humphrey spat and his body lurched again, only this time nothing came up, so it lurched again and still nothing rose.

"Gah," he moaned and spat again, hoping that there was nothing left to expunge.

"Come on Humphrey," Cail said, producing a wet caribou hide and draping it on his head.

Humphrey groaned again and attempted to vomit one final time, spewing only what acids remained in his stomach before finally settling.

"Son you really need to learn to chew," Cail commented, removing the hide towel and dipping it into a bowl of cold water, "lift your head and open your mouth," Cail then said to Humphrey, removing the hide from the bowl and then wringing the water out with his paws.

Humphrey felt water beginning to drip on his muzzle and opened his mouth to catch it, desperate for a drink. The water poured into his mouth and he swallowed at it greedily, rejecting some into the grass so that he could rinse out his mouth and take a quick breather, then drank again. Cail took his time as he did this so as to not drown the omega, for he knew that he was already having enough trouble breathing as it was, and also to give him a moment to rest.

"Alright Humphrey, move about five feet that way so you're not rolling around in your own puke and catch up with the others," he instructed after about thirty seconds or so.

Humphrey didn't know if he could do it, for never before in his life had his body been thrown into such physically demanding work and he somehow knew that this was far from the worst pain that he would experience. He wasn't going to be able to make it. He was too weak.

"I can't," he groaned, panting, still spitting out small chunks of meat, "I'm done."

"No you're not," Cail encouraged, "look you're already half way there. I know you've got more in you than that, Humphrey. If you didn't have greatness in you then how in the hell could you have ever made it all the way back here from Idaho?

Humphrey shook his head and began to rise to his feet, intent upon walking away, but was stopped when he saw another wolf appear by his side.

"Come on Humphrey," Jake said to him, "he's right. You're almost there, don't give up now. Just a few more turns."

"Come on Humphrey," the other students, with the exception of Gauge, cheered, encouraging him to keep pressing forward, "don't you quit on us. You can make it."

"Come on Humphrey," Cail began, "they believe in you, now the only one left who needs to believe is you. Now get going."

Humphrey felt a new energy begin to wash over him, fueled by the other students' encouragement, and with a determined scowl and a grimace, he began to roll again.

"Come on Humphrey don't quit," Jake called, walking beside him, "twenty more feet. Come on! That's it! Go!"

Humphrey groaned loudly, for his sides hurt and his head was so off that he didn't even know where he was anymore, but that all ended when finally he heard the words, "that's it, you're done!"

He stopped and laid down on his stomach, panting hard, surrounded by his peers, but they did not stand too close so as to give him space to breathe.

"Good job Humphrey," Cail said, placing a paw on his shoulder, "I'm proud of you."

Humphrey panted and looked up to him with a fatigued smile.

"Thank you alpha," he thanked exasperatedly.

Cail nodded then turned to his students.

"Tell you what, if you can get him to the river in a brisk jog, I'll overlook those last few drills, and you can use that time to rest up before the first lesson," Cail said, "but if you allow him to stop, you'll all do drills until you puke your lungs out, now get going."

"Yes alpha," the students answered and then crowded around Humphrey, helping him to rise, and once he was up, they began to gently push him into motion with soft shoves and words of encouragement, save Gauge, who simply skulked in the rear.

Humphrey began slow, but quickly picked up speed, and, though he stiff upon shaky legs, began to jog to the river with the rest of his class surrounding him, cheering him on."

Cail watched as they grew smaller in the distance and as they made it to the river, he couldn't help but allow a small smile to creep across his face.

"Yes," he mused to himself, "he'll do just fine here."