Werewolf's Humanity

Turn, Turn, Turn, Part 12

It was a ceremony Sammy had become too familiar with. Odysseus lead the entire pack through the woods to the small, deep hole that had been dug. Sammy carried the bundled remains of his son the entire way, and laid him down one final time.

It was him, not the Alpha, who spoke, albeit in a slow, shaky voice: "We didn't have Jonathan for even a month. But he was still a member of this pack, and he left his mark on every one of us. Even if he wasn't long for the world... God sent him someplace he could experience a whole lifetime's worth of love. An' I thank God for the chance I got to give that baby love. And all of you for helping me.

"An' so we lay him down with his forerunners of Argo. He's one with them now, an' someday we'll be one with him."

Once the last stone was in place, the pack dispersed in twos or threes, until Samson, Night Sky, and Odysseus remained. Odysseus handed Sammy the battery-powered wood burner, and Sammy performed his very final task for his son. In the tree they had buried him under, Sammy carved:

JONATHAN PHOENIX

2019-2020

HE WAS WANTED

HE WAS LOVED

***

Eventually, the three trekked through the woods back towards the House together, taking the roundabout route. Normally, Sammy would have kept his place behind his alphas, but that would have been tricky to do with Ruth holding his hand.

"We understand what it's like to lose a child," Night Sky said, after a while.

"I know," he said. "Sarah."

"Not just Sarah," Odysseus said, taking Night Sky by her other hand. "Before her, we had a miscarriage."

"Oh," he said. He couldn't even imagine. He had had Jonathan for less than a month, but to spend even longer than that in anticipation, only to suffer that kind of heartbreak. "I'm sorry."

Night Sky squeezed his hand. "Sometimes I think it's a werewolf's lot in life to suffer, to balance out our amazing gifts. We heal, but our lives are more violent. We love fiercely, but feel the pain of loss even harder."

"You, more than many understand that," Odysseus said. "But there's something you don't understand, and we want to make it clear to you now: You are our son. Not as any kind replacement for the children we've lost. You're our son because you came to us with so much potential, and we had a hand in helping you become the incredible young man you are now. And we'll be here to help guide you to further greatness."

Sammy bowed his head. For a moment, he almost started crying again, but he was tapped out. "Thank you... Mama... and Dad."

Night Sky did start crying, pulling her hands free to wipe her face. Sammy stayed by their side.

"And as our son, Samson Phoenix," Odysseus went on, "It's time for you to realize your destiny. It's time for you to become Argo's Beta."

This time, Sammy fell back, because he momentarily forgot to walk. Odysseus and Night Sky turned around to face him.

"What does that mean?" he asked in a small voice.

Odysseus put his arms behind his back and smiled. "It means you will be our right-hand man, our second in command. It means you will sometimes be relied upon to make judgement calls in our absence. It means, when it's our time to join our forerunners, you will step forward and take our place, assuming the rest of the pack will accept your leadership. Which, by that point in the future, I have no doubt they will."

"But what about Liam?" Sammy asked. "What about the line of ancestry? He's the descendant of Argo's founders."

"Ancestry is something I like to boast about, yes," Odysseus admitted. "But ancestors don't make the man, not in that way. Not every one of my ancestors has lead Argo. It's fallen in and out of my line, and who knows? It may fall back in some day, through Liam or Reilly or Madison's children."

"As for Liam," Night Sky said. "Well, he's got his own path to walk. We know it, and so does he."

"Truth be told, I think he was relieved once it became apparent we started grooming you."

"You've been grooming me for this?" Sammy asked.

"Oh yes," Odysseus said, and that was that. "Well, not this whole time. But once it became apparent to us that was on your trajectory, we started doing what we could to encourage you. And your recent displays of compassion and heroism sealed the deal."

Night Sky stepped closer, reached up, and pulled him down by the shoulders to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Normally I prefer a more subtle approach with these things, but this time it's non-negotiable," she said. "Because I know you won't let us down. You never have."

Well, he literally couldn't say no to that.

Madison came running out of the House as soon as they cleared the tree line. Reilly hobbled after her on her cane, and Donnie and Hatchet stepped out onto the porch. Madison flung herself into his arms as always, and nuzzled into his neck. Reilly stopped in front of him, smiled, and bowed. She knew.

"'Bout damn time," Hatchet said. He knew, too.

Jack emerged and darted past Hatchet so that he could lean against Sammy's leg. He might have known, but he treated Sammy like that anyway.

"Bout damn time for what?" Donnie asked.

Sammy cocked his head, and smiled. "Well, Donnie, the thing is..."

***

There were no shadows in the BioPharm lab. It was all gray, a hallway with no end in sight. But Sammy could smell blood. Smells were always as vivid in his dreams as sights and sounds. Or maybe his mind just told itself he could smell things. He sometimes wondered about that when he was awake. And though he was dimly aware that he was dreaming right now, he didn't question things.

Distant sobbing filled the halls. There was someone else in here, someone who needed help. Sammy pushed forward, slogging through the thickness of suffering and despair, heavier than any blizzard he had ever trudged through. Every time he thought of giving up, the crying grew louder. So he pressed on.

The grays grew grayer. The sobs got stronger.

Finally, he turned a corner, and walked into a room he knew all too well. And there, pressed in a corner, wearing only surgical scrubs, was a scrawny teenage boy, with a scar above his left eyebrow, on a face weathered early from a hard life. His long brown hair just served to frame how skeletal his figure had become without proper nutrition. And somehow despite that he was in the middle of a growth spurt, stretching his body to even lankier proportions. He looked disturbingly fragile.

Sammy crossed the room and sat down beside the crying boy. "Hey, kid," he said, his voice hoarse with the strain of effort.

The boy jolted, and looked up. Haunted green eyes scanned him up and down. "Who're you?" he asked.

Sammy reached out and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I've been a lot of people, over the years. I've been a brother. A son. A father. A survivor. You. But today... like it or not... I'm Samson Phoenix, Beta of Argo."

(Art by Goldenwolf)