“Don’t tell your dad, will you,” she says, lighting a long, thin menthol cigarette. I snicker, knowing my dad will smell it immediately from the other room. She takes a long pull and then blows out the smoke from the corner of her mouth through the ajar window.
“I wanted you to know that as your Alpha and as your mum,” she tacks on 'mum' like this fact is an afterthought. “I am incredibly proud of you for the sacrifice you’re making to ensure the future safety of our pack,” she says; her little speech is somewhat stilted and not particularly heartfelt. My shoulders droop, and I nod in response. I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to say to that.
She’s made it very clear what limited choice I have in my own future. This is the woman who tried to forbid me from studying history at Uni, declaring I should be getting myself an engineering degree instead. I don’t have a mathematical bone in my body, so I never understood where the idea came from other than it being Jasper’s chosen career path.
“You seem… less resistant this time around?” She phrases it as a question, and my back stiffens in response. The memories of the arguments from a year ago flood my mind. Things were said and done during that time that she can never take back.
“Yes, well, a lot has changed in the last year,” I reply, being purposefully vague.
“Indeed it has. You’ve grown up a lot. It’s a shame, in some ways, you won’t get the opportunity to be a beta for your brother. You would have made an excellent right-hand man.” I can’t help but bristle at her words. I’m not ashamed to be a beta; honestly, most of the time, I’m grateful I’ll never have any part in leading a pack. Still, I know my mother, and I know she views me as inferior for it.
“I should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow and all,” I say, waiting for her nod of dismissal before I leave the room.
“Goodnight, Phoenix.”
Two
June 2017 - Five Years Ago
Connor Kelly
Usually, I love running with my pack, especially with my twin sister, Niamh. I kind of hate to admit it, but she’s also my best friend. We even had our first shifts on the same night, shortly after our eighth birthday, which is super rare.
Today, though, I need some space.
Tomorrow marks seven years since our mum passed away. Nobody knows exactly why she ended up so far beyond our territory. Mum told my da she was off to do border checks, and when she never came home, he tracked her scent.
Da found her right where I’m standing, in the Forest of Bowland, which is neutral territory. She’d been caught in a bear trap. We don’t have bears here, and the traps have been illegal since the eighteen hundreds. My da spent years trying to get tothe bottom of it, and it felt as if he lost a part of himself in the process.
He and my mum were mates. They met when they were eighteen and knew it through scent alone. My mum used to tell me my da smelled like a fine vintage leather jacket andtrouble. He would wink at her and say,‘Aye, but I’m your brand of trouble’.
Seven years on, and my chest still aches to think of her. She’s the reason I fell in love with books. No matter what was going on in our lives and how busy everyone got, my mum would sit down each night and read to each of us. I’m pretty sure I still read so much because I like the idea of her looking down on me and feeling proud. I'm probably well past the age I should be seeking my dead mother's approval, but it is what it is. Reading feels like it tethers me somehow to her memory.
I try to outrun my melancholy thoughts. It’s best not to stop in this particular forest. Sometimes omegas live here. Omegas are wolf shifters that, for whatever reason, have ended up without a pack. If they don’t join another pack quickly enough, they get stuck in their wolf form and eventually become feral. They usually keep to themselves, but they can suddenly become violent if you accidentally encroach on what they consider their territory.
It rained heavily this morning, so the forest bed is bouncy under my paws, and everything smells more intense than usual. The air has been sticky for weeks, and there’s nothing quite like the crisp smell after the rain has cut through the humidity.
As we head into the summer months, all the foliage is luscious green, and the smell of rabbits and birds fills my nose. Before I realise how far I’ve run, I find myself right on the edge of the forest; slightly further on is Ingleton, which is right on the cusp of the Yorkshire Dales territory—the territory I’m forbidden to set foot on without my Alpha’s permission.
My pack’s territory is one of the largest in the UK. We’re a split pack, so beyond our territory in England, which spans from Liverpool through Manchester and up to the Peak District, we also have land in Mourne, Northern Ireland. My da travels back to Mourne as much as possible, but with the ongoing turf war with the Campbell pack, he can’t be there as much as he’d like.
My da was born into the Belfast pack but was expelled at eighteen because he was an Alpha-beta, and the Alpha saw him as a threat. That’s how he and my mum met. He petitioned to join the Peak District pack, and since the Alpha had no heirs, he took a chance on my da. I think it’s partly why he has hardly any interest in the turf discourse with the Campbells; he essentially inherited this war.
A few of the families in our pack have some strongly held views regarding us holding our ground in the dispute, having lost close friends and family in the skirmishes. They also happen to be the families with the deepest pockets, so my da can’t exactly afford to alienate them.
A secret I’ve never told anyone, not even Niamh, is that something within the Yorkshire territory has always called to me. If I run without thinking, I always find myself here. Sometimes, I have dreams of pounding my paws across the North Yorkshire Moors, surrounded by endless land covered in heather. Maybe it’s only because it’s forbidden, perhaps it’s a delayed rebellious streak, but something deep within me whispers it’s more than that.
My pace slows as I near Ingleton, I shouldn’t go beyond here, but my blood sings for me to go a little further. Since the sun is still shining, I take a break and curl up under a tree for a nap. It's pretty far off the beaten track, so the chances of coming across a human here are low. As the sun travels across the sky, I’m no longer in the shade and stretch out, enjoying the way my dark fur absorbs the heat. Half dozing and half keeping an ear out incase anyone approaches, I try to push thoughts of my mum to the back of my mind.
Peeking one eye open, I notice the sun is long gone, and the sky is dark, lit up only by a sliver of the moon. Peering over my shoulder in the direction of home, I know I should start making my way back. The anonymity of the darkness makes me feel sort of bold, though.
I pad slowly in the direction of the Yorkshire territory, but when I step over the border, instead of the adrenaline rush I anticipated from being somewhere forbidden, a wave of calm washes over me. It’s so quiet out here, with only the sounds of insects rustling and crickets buzzing, reminding you the woods are still filled with life.
As I near Ingleton Falls, I catch the scent of something unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before. It’s damp earth and lavender, only amplified. Without thinking, I’m tracking the scent with my nose to the ground—I don’t think I could stop myself even if I wanted to.
The sound of the waterfall reaches my ears, and I stop dead in my tracks. Someone is swimming in the pool beneath the falls. He’s naked and looks so at ease, drifting through the water. Staying as still and silent as possible, I watch him from afar.
He must sense my gaze because he turns around and faces me suddenly. I’m hidden in the treeline, and a human wouldn’t be able to see me, but he can; he’s a wolf shifter, same as me.
