The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Always On My Mind

The inside of the building had simple stone walls and floors and was generally uninsulated. Wolves were naturally warm and required less heating than humans, so the drafty halls of an army fort were more than comfortable to them. 

The room retained its old fashioned charm with a large wooden chandelier in the center and several wooden tables. They had white table cloths on them, but underneath most of the tabletops were just slabs of wood. Omega wolves, excepting Sampson, did many of the chores in the pack. Everything worked together like a well oiled machine. 

Omega's were the backbone of the pack. They carried out much of the day to day necessities that were done. Alphas, Betas, and Deltas led and instructed them, as well as handling outside crises as they arose. But nothing would get done without the workers. Sure, Alphas, Betas, and Deltas hunted, trained, and fought as well, but they had no man power. The leadership worked on the consent of the governed, and Omegas were perfectly suited for obedience. 

Nobody in the pack worked for a wage--- perhaps that was how it was done elsewhere, but not in the Gibbous pack. The wolves lived in community. They shared the all food and resources. They all ate and were full, and nobody went without. When a wolf was ill the others worked to pick up the slack, each knowing it might one day be them.

The Alpha was the top of the food chain. He approved the clothing that was distributed, the food that was made, and the deals that were passed. It was he who worked with the other packs to pick up what was missing. It was he who facilitated relations within and outside of the pack. 

Most packs had some kind of industry they specialized. There were packs that manufactured clothing, packs that built cars, and packs that crafted furniture among other things. What the wolves couldn't get from other packs, they got from trading with the government or regular human manufacturers. The Gibbous Moon Pack, perhaps uselessly distilled whiskey as their business. Whiskey was therefore part of the culture of the pack and engrained into their way of life. Elijah and Sampson had learned the inner working of the park at their father's knee. 

Aaron Midas was a meticulous and beloved Alpha. He turned his role into a science, an art form, and he mastered it. Within the eyes of the pack he was a steadfast leader and loving father. He was only the latter to one of his sons. While Elijah sat on his father's lap and learned the tricks of the trade, Sampson waited outside the door and listened on in secret. 

Only once his father had seen him, but he said nothing. Aaron Midas didn't object, he didn't invite his son in to watch, he just said nothing. 

The sun streamed through the slits in the stone wall casting beams of light across the stone floor of the dining room, and Elijah watched as attendant wolves rushed around getting the day's food ready. One of them, a wolf he'd known since childhood, paused to nod her head to him as she passed. Most of the others avoided eye contact with him.

A few more wolves filtered in after Sampson and Issac chatting quietly amongst themselves. breakfast wasn't typically as organized of a meal as lunch or dinner, but mainly a grab and go venture. At the back of the room a long table had been set up bearing fruit, a platter of eggs, yogurt, oatmeal, cereal, and other foods for the wolves. Those who had arrived early in the morning got the first choice of what was set out.

"You should eat," Issac suggested. 

"I'll eat after training," Sampson explained grumpily. 

"Go eat." Issac commanded this time with more authority. Sampson looked up from his seat at the table and eyed him with subtle resentment. Issac's tone was that of a Delta, and as an Omega it was instinct for Sampson to obey him. 

"Fine." Sampson angrily obliged, standing to grab a banana. Omegas were easy to order around because they naturally craved the appreciation that came with obedience and longed to follow orders. To Sampson it was yet another reminder that he wasn't an Alpha; a reminder that encroached on his free will. Every bone in his body screamed against him as his mind insisted he follow the Delta's orders. 

When Sampson returned, Issac had already gone to the other cart and gotten himself a cup of coffee. He sipped it with anticipation as Sampson angrily ate his pathetic banana, taking care with the fact that eating so soon after and before a run made him feel like he was going to throw up. 

"They think you're a pushover." Issac said after a third wolf avoided eye contact as he passed over the table. Those who knew Sampson would show him respect, but those who didn't saw him as a scheming weak pushover trying to steal the Alpha-ship from Elijah. Issac too was implicated in their so-called treason by this logic. "If... and I do mean if you want to lead, then you need to prove them wrong."

"How do you suppose I do that?" Sampson asked, as he choked down the last of the banana. 

"You find out if Elijah really has a mate."

"And if he doesn't?" Sampson raised an eyebrow. 

"Let's pray he does," Issac crossed his arms. "If he doesn't, we attack him while he's on the move and at his weakest."

"And if he does?"

"That's easy," Issac shrugged. "We kill his mate."