The Dance of Wolves

“Hey, Aksal! ” Peter calls me over to his corner table for breakfast at the pack house. “I really appreciate you for standing up for me yesterday, no one’s ever done that before.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I go with, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better, but you should probably report to the infirmary,” Pete says.

“What? Why?”

“Marcel and Damien looked for you at last night’s wolf training. They were planning on getting payback and making some kind of example of you, but you never showed.”

Well, damn. Alma and I were so elated about last night, we completely forgot about the incident during the day.

“How did you manage that anyway? We’re under the Alpha’s command. We can’t skip out on any part of boot camp,” Peter adds.

“I didn’t skip out, I trained in a separate group,” I sigh. “...They should be over it by now, though, right? What’s the big deal? We’ll all be adults soon, aren’t we all too old for this nonsense?” Alma’s putting words in my mouth, but I know better. It’s a guy thing.

I shake my head, back in control. “Forget what I just said. How bad is it?”

“Well, a few of the stronger guys teased them for getting put down by an Omega--” Peter is interrupted by a sudden, one-sided food fight. Marcel dumped cheesy scrambled eggs and oatmeal on us. The cheese was still scalding hot on the side of my face.

“Why don’t you two clean this shit up? Useless waste- of-space Omegas,” Damien says as he walks away.

Great, so on a scale of one to the apocalypse, the how-bad-is-it score is The Walking Dead dystopia. I’m fucked.

I clean myself off with a napkin while Alma heals the burns. I grab a second helping of food knowing we’re going to need all our energy today. I’m prepared to take a few punches to diffuse their aggression and Alma will have to heal me. I still have 88 days 4 hours and 6 seconds of boot camp to go, now that I’m counting.

“Peter, no matter what happens today, don’t do anything reckless. I’m only a guest, but this is your pack. I’ll be okay, no hard feelings. Whatever doesn’t kill you and all that, right?” I try to smile encouragingly.

Shoulders slumped, Peter looks down and bites his lip nervously as he nods. Shame is evident in his demeanor. He was relieved I told him to not return the favor to stick up for me.

Not surprisingly Damien and Marcel are sparring next to us again. They pretend to be violent with one another so they can stumble back into our space. I have layer after layer of bruises on my sides and back from their overzealous ‘accidents’. Alma’s growling and healing me like a sailor patching leak after leak in his boat to keep it afloat.

Beta Andes couldn’t see everything, but he cautions them to be more aware of their surroundings. “Focus,” he says before walking away.

“Fucking ball-less bastard, you gonna hide behind your Beta all day?” Damien sneers as soon as Beta Andes is out of earshot. I think there’s a bit of irony there somewhere in his timing.

“Yeah, know your damn place loser,” Marcel adds; ever the original.

It gets worse from there. They call me all sorts of names and insult my family and me for generations in a one-sided game of dozens. I don’t engage.

I take their endless rough-housing, taunts, and flexing with patience and endurance like a mature adult; at least that’s what I’d like to say, but I’m fuming. My blood is boiling, my thumping heart wants out of my chest like a newborn Alien. I can taste the blood on my growing canines piercing my bottom lip. Alma’s pissed too, but one of us has to stay calm before we do something we might regret.

My lack of response only eggs Damien on. “Didn’t show up for wolf training yesterday, huh? Were you too scared to let us see it? Bet your wolf is a midget, wannabe Mexican-hairless breed, weak-ass beeyatch.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face and for a moment, I’m speechless.

“Aww, did I hurt Mr. Poodles’ feelings?” Damien coos.

“Say what you want about me, but no one insults my wolf!” I go full John Wick on his ass.

***

Imagination is a beautiful thing. Back in reality, it’s obvious Damien doesn’t feel a thing though I’m punching my hardest in the few hits that land on him. I look around but I don’t see Beta Andes. Peter runs to get help, too panicked to thought-link to his pack, I guess.

Damien reaches into his pocket and I see a flash of metal as I barely dodge one of his punches. He’s got a ring of silver knuckles on his fist! Marcel slips behind me and gets a hold of my arms. Shit just got real.

Damien’s fist goes over my head but hits Marcel’s face even as he leans back. Alma shreds my sweats to tatters as we shift out of Marcel’s grip. Damien’s face pales as he gets a full frontal view of my transformation. Peter and Beta Andes see it too. Beta Andes is visibly shaken, he turns his head and retches.

We ain’t got time for that. Alma bites down on Damien’s arm with a cage-like grip. He screams and punches the side of our head, my vision clouds in a burst of pretty twinkling lights. Alma heals our concussion in double-time. She returns pain for pain. Bones crack in his forearm as Alma bites down harder and the warmth of the salty, metallic taste of his blood fills our mouth.

Peter steps in and holds onto Damien’s free hand with both of his. In my periphery, Marcel has recovered and he’s about to step in. Beta Andes infuses his voice with power. “Alma, Aksal, let him go now! Shift!”

Damien’s arm is hanging by tendons in places but I’m not sorry at all. Everyone can see the silver rings around his fingers. I obey the command to shift. Damien pauses in his agony as he stares in shock when all my bits and pieces grow back into place. Marcel takes him to the medical wing. Beta Andes follows close behind.

I give my statement to the instructors and Peter does the same to the Alpha of the Harvest Moon pack, who is fairer towards Omegas than Peter’s own Grey Wolf pack Alpha.

Out of nowhere, Joshua surprises me with a slap on the back. “Goddess! How the hell do you retract those giant balls of steel!?” Apparently, more of my peers besides Peter saw the whole scene. Some are shaking their heads, openly disgusted; others are impressed, giving me a thumbs up. Marcel and Damien weren’t well-liked. Peter hands me a pair of boxers and a wet cloth.

“Thanks, man. I probably look like hell, but I feel pretty great.”

Peter smiles and pats me on the back. “Both Paan and I agree your wolf is awesome. Well done Alma!”

“Hey, thanks for getting in there when you did. Getting hit by Damien’s jabs felt like getting pummeled by a freight train. And thanks for bringing Beta Andes.”

Peter nodded. “I tried linking to the instructors from my pack, but they ignored me. I mentioned that in my statement too.”

I’m happy to see Peter speaking up and I say so.

“Nothing will change if I never speak out or stand up for myself. Even my dad was inspired by what you did yesterday, he said he’s gonna prep Do the Right Thing for the next Gathering.”

I don the shorts and ruffle through my hair with one hand while wiping my face with the other. I need Listerine.

***

When all is said and done, Damien is sentenced with three months of community service and both he and Marcel will be on sanitation duty for the next year. The best part is they are punished to serve as live test dummies for the rest of the boot camp for disrupting the training.

I’m invited to stay with the guys for wolf training. Alma wants to hang out with the other she-wolves, so I pass.

Alma is still snarling obscenities; cursing them up one side and down the other, but through it all I can feel her love; feel how proud she is of me for defending her honor. Goddess, I adore my wolf. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

***

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A/N Were you disappointed Aksal didn't win the fight even though it makes sense he didn't? Let me know in the comments.

I’ll leave you with this quote:“Speaking up doesn’t always make life easier. But easy never changed anything.” Raheem Sterling.