Greykin Valley

| 29 | Doctor's Orders

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

| Damon |

Why was he still in charge? Damon glanced at each of his packmates, wondering why not a single one of them had questioned his ability to lead them yet. Surely, after what happened to Alastor, at least one of them must feel as though he wasn't cut out for this anymore.

He dragged his hands over his face and stared at the ground. Someone else was dead because of him. He should have been more cautious—maybe he should have just found another way for them to get back on track instead of crossing that river. And the fact that he couldn't even handle that prowler by himself made him feel worse. What was happening to him? Why did he feel so unsure and powerless?

And why was he asking himself whether Alaric made the right choice giving him the responsibility he now held?

Damon looked around at everyone again. Would one of them follow in Elias' footsteps and challenge him? How many more things had to go wrong—how many more wrong decisions did he have to make before someone said enough?

Why didn't he just say it? Why wait around for someone to tell him he was failing at being their leader when he could admit it himself?

But who would take his place? There wasn't anyone here with anywhere near as much experience as him, and despite his lack of self-confidence, he still cared about his pack and wanted to ensure they had the best chance from here on out. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was the only one capable.

Or...was he?

He didn't know anymore. Everything was a mess. Wolves were dead because of him, and he had no idea what was going to happen once they left the burrow and continued towards the valley.

"Well, you're right, chief," Tokala said, appearing beside him.

Damon glanced up at the orange-haired man.

"Kid's blaming himself."

The Alpha set his eyes on Jackson. "This isn't his fault in any way whatsoever."

"Yeah...and it isn't yours, either."

He frowned and looked at his Zeta, who sat beside him.

"Permission to speak candidly, Alpha?"

Damon nodded.

"I've known you a long time; we grew up together. You've confided in me a lot, and I know when you're overthinking. True, our friendship drifted a little as we went our separate paths in the pack, but I still know you," Tokala said quietly. "I saw you out there...after releasing Alastor."

The Alpha huffed and looked away. He wasn't about to pour his feelings out to one of his subordinates, especially when he had no idea what to do about any of it.

"It wasn't your fault; it wasn't Jackson's fault—it wasn't anyone's fault. No one blames anyone," Tokala said firmly.

Damon turned his head to look at the Zeta again. It was true that he and Tokala were a lot closer back when they lived in the packhouse, and since leaving, they'd drifted. Damon drifted from everyone...but that was just one of the many burdens of leadership, another being that he had the responsibility of making the right calls, and when he made a wrong one...the people who trusted him suffered.

He sighed deeply and rested his back against the wall. For a moment, he let himself seek the advice of someone who had once been his closest friend. "What if Alaric made a mistake?"