Little Wolf - Chapter 50 Challange

The wounded man before me didn’t say anything. Now that we were standing, I could see the damage I’d done to him.

“Go over and ask Doc over there, politely, considering you were thinking about killing him a few minutes ago, for what we’ll need for stitches. We’ll get you cleaned up real quick.”

He looked surprised. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered.

I let out a slight growl. I couldn’t force care upon him.

“No matter what you say,” called out the one Anna still had her shotgun roughly aimed at, “we can’t just let them go.”

“What part of not kidnapping and not biting didn’t you understand?” I asked wearily.

“Just because you played with that poor excuse for an alpha doesn’t give you the right to command us all,” he said.

“That was never a right I’ve claimed,” I sighed.

“Boy over there named you the Alpha King,” he retorted.

“I am the alpha of a pack of alphas. If you understood what it meant to be one with the wolf, you would understand what that means. He understands it to mean Alpha King, but then he’s still learning what it means to be one with the wolf.”

“Then why should anyone obey you, even that…” and he sneered toward my beaten foe, “not even worth calling it an alpha.”

“He is still alpha of his pack. And now I am his alpha.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“If you were part of my pack you would understand.”

He sneered again, turning to the side, taking a defensive stance. He was older than the other one, possibly in his lower forties. His body was lean and well defined, similar in build to my dad’s. He had scars that spoke of experience, as well as a puckered mark on his shoulder which declared him a created werewolf from being bitten.

I had a few scars of my own even if mine had come from practice bouts, except that last fight with Dad. A leadership battle, I thought. Who knew such things existed? I had become an alpha even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

For Dad and I, there was a balance between being wolf and man, something these bitten werewolves didn’t seem to understand at all. My pack was a pack of true wolves who understood how to be one with the wolf, balanced with being good men. My pack was those like Sheep, willing to learn. It was family, and friends like Mac who became like family.

“Give me a chance to rest up, then come run with me, my brother, you will see…”

“See what?” he interrupted derisively. “Come run with you as part of your pack? When I defeat you, I will take you back to mine. I will teach you…”

I didn’t wait, shifting without thought. My leap was instinctual. I was too tired to focus as I should, having been too much the wolf recently. He blocked me, shoving me off to the side even as he began to shift.

I circled, snarling, waiting for him to finish changing to a wolf. I lowered my head, not in submission, but in preparation, protecting my neck. I was stalking, my eyes focused on my prey. My steps were glides, my muscles ready to shift or jump.

We came together, our snarls filling the air. His teeth clipped the folds of my ruff. I went sideways, shoving my shoulder into him. I spun, bringing my hind legs up even as he was falling to the ground. My claws raked his side. His front paws clung to my neck, his teeth coming in for another bite. I lowered my head, blocking his bite, shoving my forehead into his neck. His teeth scraped my scalp. My teeth scraped his chest.

He rolled away, snarling, but looking at me as a man inside a wolf. I doubted he had ever been completely wolf.

In the last few days, I had lived more as a wolf than a man. Trying to regain my focus, I thought about what Dad had said; the wolf needed to know, I needed to know, that I needed to be human to survive. Where my previous opponent only knew the rudiments of fighting, this one knew more. I needed man-smarts to survive. My mind focused on the lesson Jacob had given me. The man in me knew I needed a wolf’s reactionary instinct to survive as well.

I felt myself shift. There was pressure in my skull and my vision doubled for a second. I growled, shaking my head. My adversary took advantage of my distraction to attack.

I focused on his body, picturing joints, and organs. The wolf isn’t made to swing up into where organs are. When he came in, and he came in fast, I swung my head to cause a blow into his kidneys. I leaped away.

I circled, waiting for an opening to rush him. When it came, I knocked him over then made a short leap, watching for his teeth, bring all four of my paws down on one point. He yelped, even as he struggled up from under me. Soon we were circling again.

My fangs were showing in a silent snarl. He came in, ducking low, trying to grab a paw. I moved my head over his shoulders, giving a little pounce, bringing my legs up so I was on top of him, draped along his back. I stood on my hind legs for a second and brought my front paws up, wrapping them around his neck.

He reared up, trying to throw me off. Where once I shifted while trying to stay looking like a man, now I shifted to stay looking like a wolf. My hips moved so I could bring my hind legs in for a tighter grasp. I added my teeth into the ruff at the back of his neck to strengthen my hold and limit his head movement.

He tried everything to break my hold. He spun, tried reaching over his shoulder to bite me, even trying to fall backward so I was under him. My hold was secure. I was surprised when he started shifting to man. That made me let him go, pacing in front of him. I expected him to concede the bout since he had insisted it be all wolf.

He kept twitching as he shifted back, until finally, he was upright, breathing hard.

“You’ve gone feral,” he panted. “Your ordeal underground was too much for you. These people who came to rescue you need to understand that killing you is actually a kindness. You and the black wolf over there. I don’t think he can ever be a man again.”

I had a feeling he was the one who had come as close to being what he called feral as he had ever been. The wolf doesn’t like being confined and had tried to come to the forefront to help. He had come up with a human strategy to keep himself from becoming a wolf within himself if murder was a strategy.

He glanced toward my friends and family pointing the guns at him. “I do not expect you to kill one who obviously means so much to you, but you need to understand he is a danger to everyone now. He cannot remain alive.”

I hissed with laughter. He turned back to stare at me. He knew he couldn’t take me, I thought, he knew it! He had no plans on submitting to me so he planned on trying to kill me. Good to know.

I did not shift. I spoke in my mother’s tongue, so my family would understand and he would not. “All is well. Stay wolf, Father.” The words were growled out. I doubted my opponent knew I had even spoken.

“See?” He pointed dramatically at me before standing tall. He looked at the wolves behind me, his wolves, nodding at them, then shifted to wolf once more.

While waiting for him to shift back, I spared a look behind my opponent at Mac. He looked like he was snarling himself, ready to take on the man/wolf who was planning on killing me. Dad had moved his pacing to be in front of Mac, blocking him, proof that Dad was thinking as a man and was not feral.

I faced this wolf who was only a man. He was filled with a human desire to murder. I was filled with a wolf’s instinct to survive. More than that, I was filled with human cunning, and a certain amount of amusement that he actually believed the people here would believe anything he said. If harm came to any of those who came to save me, I doubted my opponent would walk out of Yellowstone alive.

When my opponent came at me this time, he tried to use his weight to pin me down. I shifted enough, without losing my wolf form, adjusting my balance to throw him off me.

I had two goals I wanted to accomplish during this fight. I wanted to prove that a wolf could come back from being feral, and I wanted to make more of a fool of him than I did the alpha whose butt I had bitten. I was straining my brain to figure out what could top being bitten, twice, in the butt.

For the first part, I went all out as if I was a feral wolf. I made a show of growling and snapping. I kept my wits about me. I avoided every attack, some narrowly. He was a good fighter, and there were a few times that if I hadn’t fought with Dad as often as I had, he might have killed me. He was focusing exclusively on my neck now.

Our clashes had us both bleeding in spots. I could feel my exhaustion. The wolf within me wanted to lower my head. I lifted it instead, knowing I couldn’t afford to show how tired I was.

Time to focus on my second goal, while I had the reserves of energy to do so.