The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Always On My Mind

His barreled chest rose and fell harshly as he struggled to catch his breath. Being winded was an uncommon experience for Sampson, but he craved it because it meant he'd pushed himself. The faster he got, the harder it was to push himself. 

"Nice run, mate?" A voice called from above Sampson's head. The man pulled his hand to cover his sweat soaked brow and block the meager rays of sunrise that were suddenly blinding to him. 

"Issac?" Sampson asked with slight confusion, his chest still shifting rapidly. "How'd you know I'd be out here?"

"You're always out here, bro." Issac shrugged. As Sampson's eyes adjusted his friend came into view. Issac was a few years older than Sampson, somewhere between twenty eight and thirty, and one of Sampson's few friends. The man had curly blondish hair that matched his light brown wolf, and a slight bit of stubble across his chin. He himself stood in a shadow cast by the high walls of the fort, so the hints of sun only affected Sampson. In the darkness, Issac's eyes glowed a friendly amber. 

"I want to shave a couple seconds off my time." Sampson grunted. 

"Here." Issac said, and tossed Sampson a water. The man took it graciously and downed half in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. When he pulled the water from his lips he poured some onto his head and shook it, the drips flying off the tips of his dark brown hair. "Here I was figuring you'd finally take a day off."

"No days off." Sampson wheezed, patting his chest as he choked on the water. "I don't have time for days off."

"Not usually, but given the peculiar situation of the last few days I figured you'd want to revel in things a bit more."

Sampson shook his head gruffly. He didn't have time to revel, not with the precarious situation he was in. He had to train. 

Issac was right though, he supposed, in asserting the the last few days had been nothing short of miraculous for Sampson. Elijah, his brother, had left the pack and it was like a giant weight had been lifted off Sampson's shoulders. No more was there a constant comparison to look at. No more was there a constant reminder that Sampson hadn't been born as an Alpha, but an Omega. Nothing was there but peace and tranquillity. Elijah never left the pack house, but Sampson was hit with the sudden urge to spend the rest of his life away from the boy. 

Still, peace couldn't last. Elijah hadn't left on some useless joyride, but to look for a mate. Once Elijah returned with his mate it was all over. Everything Sampson had spent his life working towards would go down the drain and he'd be left with nothing. 

"You see my mom last night?" Sampson asked after a moment.

"Yeah... she was struggling," Issac admitted. Bianca Midas had been tasked with giving a speech to address the current situation to the restless pack. She carried no authority and had no strong voice to speak of. The entire affair was an absolute mess. 

"That'd be me if I tried to make any type of speech." Sampson shook his head angrily. "I'd stutter over my words and shit. Nobody would listen to me. Maybe my dad was right all along."

"Dude, your mom is grieving.... besides, just because you're both Omegas doesn't mean that you can't be any better at speaking than she is."

Sampson shook his head, and poured the rest of the water bottle over his dark brown hair. That was precisely what it meant. Any time Sampson ever had to speak in public he tripped over his words and ran off in a fit of embarrassment. Omegas were not meant to be leaders, and his dad had never let him forget it.

In the aftermath of his father's death it was Elijah who made the speeches, Elijah who conversed with the other packs, and Elijah who led. Despite their mother's protests, it was Elijah who ran the pack in their father's absence, and it was only Elijah who was capable of doing so. Sampson didn't care enough to speak at his father's funeral, even to try. It was Elijah and his mother's grief. He felt no grief.