Wolf Sprite

The man steps backwards, giving me space to walk past. He looks a little surprised, but I don’t say anything, instead running through the door, the man exited with mum. I enter a large hallway and look both ways. Turning as the door clicks behind me, I see the tall wolf follow me through.

“Which way?” I ask.

“The hospital wing….” He replies, but I don’t let him finish as I head right, which the sign on the wall indicates, towards the direction of the hospital.

Because I’m not a wolf yet, I can’t sniff her out. I can’t see her but continue jogging in one direction, noticing that the further down the hall I jog, the more people I can see walking around. A few of them look in my direction and bow their heads, and as I know they’re not doing that to me, I turn and see that that tall man is following behind. He must be the Alpha or beta.

“Excuse me,” I say, stopping a woman in a white uniform and a clipboard in her hand.

“Did a man come past her with a woman in his arms? She had a headscarf wrapped around her head?” I ask. The woman looks at me and then behind me. I turn and see the tall man again, watching us. He nods at the nurse.

“I think I heard Doctor Parnell say to take her to observation room eight,” the nurse replies.

“Where’s that?” I ask. I watch as the nurse waves to the hallway on the right.

“Thank you,” I smile, taking off in that direction.

I head down the hallway till I see a sign that says, ‘observation rooms,’ and I sigh before I walk in.

“I’ll come with you,” the tall man finally speaks, grabbing my wrist. I look down at his hand and then at him before shaking his hand off.

“Sure,” I reply. It’s not like I can say no.

The observation rooms are centred around a nurse’s station, which is a hub of activity. To my right, I see a large sliding door, and on each rectangle wall, rooms are walled-off rooms with numbers frosted on the glass doors.

I walk over to room eight, moving the curtains that act as a door to one side and walk in. A wolf in scrubs and a white lab coat stands there writing things down as another wolf hooks things up to mum. The wolf who took mum stands there, answering the second wolf’s questions.

“This is the daughter,” the man who took mum says. Both men in the scrubs look at me.

“Firstly, do you know what’s wrong with her?” the second man asks me.

I look at mum. She has a needle in both her hands that link to tubes and two bags, one with clear liquid and the other with a blue liquid. Wires come out from underneath mum’s shirt, and I guess this links to a heart monitor. From mum’s nose, another tube enters her nostrils. With all this equipment attached to her, she really looks sick. Her eyes, which are closed, are sunken, her skin a pale colour.

I take a haggard breath in. Under the hospital lights, mum’s features are stark and weathered. Seeing her this way hits me with how sick she really is.

“What’s her name?” the doctor then asks. I shift my eyes from mum and look at the man. His name is embroidered on his white lab coat, ‘Dr. D Parnell. Redwood Hospital,’ it reads.

“Aviary,” I reply. I look back at mum. The Urban Wolves wouldn’t have cared for mum like this pack is doing now. It pains me to see the contrast between the packs. If they find out that mum and I are omegas, I’m sure they’ll take all this stuff out of her and send us on our way.

“Miss, would you like to sit? We have some questions,” the other doctor, Dr C. Wilkins, his coat reads, says, indicating to a chair next to mum’s chair.

I nod, dumbstruck. I sit, looking over at mum, taking her in.

“Do you know what is wrong with your mother?” Dr Parnell asks.

“Yes. She has cancer,” I say. I pull the chair closer to mum’s bed, sit down and place my hand on her arm, watching her chest move slightly up and down as she breathes.

“Why would you bring your mother, who is obviously very sick, to our pack?” the wolf who carried her here asks, anger and annoyance in his voice.

“She wanted to see her dad one last time, I promised her,” I say, not looking away from my mum, tears coming down my face.

“And who is her father?” the tall man asks. I told him this already. I look up at him. Why is he asking again?

“Brent Redclaw,” I reply, resting my head and closing my eyes.

The room goes quiet, and all I can hear is the constant beeping of the heart monitor machine. I sit there, taking in the beeping, listening to the men fuss around me. There is some flurry of movement, but I don’t budge from my position. I hear the men come and go, but I notice the tall man stays with us.

“Aviary?” an older voice calls out. I turn and see an older, broad man standing at the room’s entrance. His hair is greying and beginning to recede with a prominent widow’s peak, but he has this charismatic attractiveness.

“Who are you?” I ask, looking at him. But I know who he is before he says it. My mum has his eyes and his nose. It is only with that question that he acknowledges me.

“I’m Alpha Brent Redclaw. Who are you?” my grandfather asks.

I look at the man and furrow my brows. My mum’s an omega. If he’s an Alpha, that means so is mum. What does that make me? I don’t want to be an alpha. I don’t want to run a pack.

“My name is Lillia. I’m her daughter,” I finally say to the man.

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Seventeen,” I reply. I watch the man, who is obviously my grandfather, turn to the tall man. Their eyes lock, and I can tell they’re communicating with each other and don’t want me to hear.

When they stop, the tall man leaves and my grandfather walks over to mum and me.

“Who was that?” I ask, referring to the tall man.

“That is Elijah Hillcrest. He is taking over my role as Alpha in a few months,” grandfather says. I look away from him and back to mum.

“Makes sense,” I reply emotionlessly.

“Where is my grandmother?” I ask him after a long silence. He doesn’t reply, and I look up at him.

“My mate died when Aviary was thirteen. Hunting accident,” he says.

“Mum doesn’t have any brothers or sisters?” I ask.

“What has your mother told you?” my grandfather asks.

“Nothing. Mum tells me very little. I know she wanted to see you before she died and figured we were heading towards you. But I only knew your name once we got here. Didn’t even know you were an alpha.”

“You look tired; I’ve asked Nubia to show you your room. She will be at your disposal until further notice,” my grandfather says, stepping aside as a she-wolf walks in. I turn and observe her. She looks to be in her mid-thirties, which for a wolf and our slow aging, could mean she’s aged anywhere between thirty and fifty.

“Hello, I’m Nubia. Alpha Lillia, come, let’s get you settled in,” Nubia introduces herself. Her eyes are warm, and she has a kind voice.

“It’s Lillia, and I’m fine here,” I reply. Nubia looks at my grandfather, who, in turn, looks at me.

“Doctor Parnell has given Aviary sleeping sedatives. She’ll be out for a while. Please go with Nubia so you can rest,” he says.

I sigh. I have been driving for hours now and feel a little tired. Reluctantly, I stand up.

“Alright, Alpha,” I say.

“Lillia?”

“Yes, Alpha?” I ask, turning around as I follow Nubia out the door.

“You can call me Grandad,” he says.

“Okay… Grandad,” I reply softly.

///\\\///\\\///\\\

Nubia leads me down corridors, and I follow her blindly, trying to take it all in but struggling. This packhouse is much bigger than Urban Wolves. I’d hate to be the one to clean it. Nubia smiles at me as she watches me take in the place in awe.

“It’s like a palace,” I comment, making her laugh.

“Seriously, how many wolves are in this pack?” I ask.

“About four and a half thousand,” Nubia smiles, making me stop.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I ask her. She stops walking and looks at me.

“No. Why? How many were in the pack you came from?”

“Just under three hundred, and I thought that was big,” I reply.

After what seems like an hour but is probably only ten minutes of walking, we get to a large room with a large entrance and exit on opposite walls and a staircase to one side.

“We’ve had a lot more members come to this pack over the last eighteen years. The Alpha and Beta wings have changed immensely. Come, follow me,” Nubia says, leading me up a large staircase.

“I don’t know if I should trust you or not. You might be taking me to my doom,” I comment, still in awe. Nubia laughs.

“I am very loyal to your grandfather and this pack. He took me in after the race wars over twenty years ago,” she smiles, leading me up to a carved door with intricate patterns that looks very heavy. She walks up to the wall beside the door where a screen is placed and taps in a long series of numbers. Pressing ‘enter,’ the door slowly swings open to reveal a grand living room.

“Wow,” I say again, walking in. This living space is far grander than the one at Urban Wolves. The floors are white tile, and the walls look like diorite in colour, polished white stone, or marble with specs of grey in it.

I walk into the room, taking it all in. This packhouse puts Urban Wolves to shame.

“I won’t have to clean this, will I?” I ask Nubia. She looks at me and laughs.

“Of course not. We have wolves in the packhouse that do that,” she says.

“Omegas?” I ask. Nubia nods.

“But I’m an omega. My job at my pack was to help in the kitchens. Next year I will work full-time at the pack house once I finish school. That is, if I go back,” I add, walking into the kitchen and running my hand over the black marble countertop.

“If you want to work in the pack-house here, you can if that’s what you want. But you’re Aviary’s daughter. You’re not an omega; you’re an Alpha,” Nubia states, smiling sadly at me. I turn and look at her, shaking my head.

“Sorry, this is all so new to me. Mum never told me anything about her life before me,” I say. Nubia nods slowly.

“Let me show you your room,” she says.

“Okay,” I agree, following her out of the kitchen and down one of the many hallways. Nubia stops before a door and opens it, walking into a room. I follow and am amazed again at what I see. The room is painted a pale yellow with blue trim. A large bowed window with a window seat fills the room with light. The curtains look heavy and are a dark navy blue colour. I can’t help but touch the soft velvety material. To the right is a four-poster king-sized bed with four pillows sitting neatly against the headboard.

Nubia laughs, and I look at her.

“What?” I ask, smiling.

“You, you’re so cute,” she smiles.

“I grew up in a caravan smaller than half the size of this room, which is amaze-balls, by the way.”

“Well, why don’t you shower, come out, and I’ll have a clean change of clothes for you.”

“Oh, I have clothes….”

“I know. Alpha Brent has already asked people to bring your things to this and your mother’s room. I’ll put your clothes away while you wait.”

I watch as Nubia nods to me before walking outside the room and closing the door behind her. Left alone, I walk around the room and take it all in. It is huge! I stand against one wall and count the steps from one side to the other, grinning that it’s almost three times the length of my caravan. There are two doors opposite the bed. The first one opens to a walk-in closet, which looks overly big. How can someone fill this space with clothes? I was lucky to have two drawers in the caravan. The next door opens to a bathroom. I peer inside, squealing at what I see.

~

Edited with Grammarly