PacksBrokenHeart

by Gwen Campbell

  “It’s too bad you’re so strong.” Cutler held the door open for Owen and clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. “Ever since Nath and I got mated the prime single bitches in the pack have been sniffing outside our borders for big studs like you. When you do leave, just don’t pull a pied-piper act.”

  “Can’t make any promises there, Sheriff.” Owen grinned. “Can’t help it if I’m a chick magnet, now can I?”

  “Smug bastard,” Cutler huffed then returned Owen’s smile.

  Chapter Four

  Owen arrived for the pack run late. It wasn’t by accident.

  He’d offered to drop Ryan off at the home where the pups were being watched over that evening. There he’d stuck around longer than he’d needed to. He’d taken advantage of an opportunity to spend more one-on-one time with his cousin, sure, and he’d been happy to have Ryan introduce him to his friends.

  The pups were curious about him, curious about what a soldier did and when Owen mentioned that it had made him very happy to get the drawings Ryan had mailed to him, most of the kids started hunting for paper and coloring supplies.

  They made Owen promise to pick up their pictures when he picked up Ryan and mail them to the members of his old unit still serving in Iraq.

  Owen was so touched he actually got a little choked-up inside.

  When he arrived at the pack’s running ground he hung back in the tree line and looked into the large clearing where no fewer than one hundred adult weres were milling around.

  It was a far different vibe than Owen was used to. There was no laughter, greetings, good-natured ball busting. This group was solemn and he stayed where he was, unwilling to disturb the mood that had settled over them.

  In the middle, lit up by the huge bonfire in the center of the clearing, he made out Cutler’s and Nath’s profiles. There was a gap between them and instinctively Owen knew the much shorter Fina was standing between her mates. After a few words from Cutler the pack began to form itself in a loose line. The trail rimmed the perimeter of the clearing. In ones and twos members of the pack approached Cutler and the fire. Through a gap Owen’s wolf’s eyes picked out a long, narrow table covered in a clean cloth. On the table were various boxes. He watched as the first two weres, a mated couple from the looks of them, moved past the table. First one then the other tore open a small package taken from the first box, swabbed a forefinger with an antiseptic wipe, then from the next box took out a wrapped, sterile lancet. Each lancet was very small. They each pressed the tip of a fresh lancet to their forefinger then let their blood drop into the long-handled earthenware crucible resting across a metal rack near the fire.

  One or two drops each, the members of Cutler’s pack gave their blood in tribute and mourning to a fallen Beta.

  Some of the women laid neatly folded handkerchiefs in the crucible instead, adding their dry tears to the pack’s tribute. The handkerchiefs absorbed the blood, took it in, gave it a solemn place to rest where it waited for the second part of the ceremony.

  After all the other pack members had filed by, Nath then Fina then Cutler added their own drops of blood. Cutler picked up the crucible and, using the long handle, placed it on a series of short iron tripods set in the heart of the fire. As if overwhelmed by the burden placed within it, the heart of the fire sputtered and the flames died. But the heat of the thing couldn’t be held back. Soon the crucible was obscured by thick columns of fire. Cutler tended the crucible while his pack watched in silence. He took the end of the handle, which sat well out of the flames, gave it a gentle shake now and then tipped the crucible ever so slightly then laid it back down onto the row of tripods. Sometime later he lifted the crucible out of the fire and returned it to the metal rack set away from the flames.

  From his shirt pocket he produced a small, plain, silver box. Owen recognized it, knew the engraving identified it as belonging to Cutler’s pack. Below that Ed Timberman’s name was etched deep in simple square text. And below that were three words: Remembered And Honored.

  With Fina’s and Nath’s help Cutler tapped the ash residue out of the crucible into the box. He closed up the box and solemnly returned it to his pocket.

  There was a moment’s pause. Small animals foraging on the forest floor, even those in the trees, fell still and quiet. Guarding the small, precious box, Cutler began to take off his clothes. His pack followed suit.

  Watching from the tree line, Owen did the same.

  “Let the run begin,” Cutler bellowed at last. The words were gravelly and hard to make out. Owen could hear the structural changes already taking place in the Alpha’s throat as his emerging wolf struggled to make the sounds of human speech.

  All across the clearing, were after were tensed and dropped to all fours. Their bodies lengthened, their legs and arms got shorter, their torsos grew broad and powerful. Grunts of pain turned to whines. Skin, luminescent in the moonlight, was obscured as glossy fur snaked out through miniscule pores.

  The last thing Owen did before he unleashed his wolf was look around carefully. He scented the air, hunted for signs of trouble but found none. Inside his head he stepped back. He had no trouble finding the sheltered spot in his human forebrain. He even re-created his favorite recliner, the one that used to sit in his mother’s living room. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

  Owen’s wolf leaped forward. Eyes that had been round a moment before stretched back. Brown irises grew long, became flecked with gold, saw a pine needle fall from a limb, high on a tree that had stood over a hundred years, on the far side of the clearing. A voice box that a moment earlier had been capable of speech and song in a broad range of human emotion grew smaller and less complex. He refused to whine when pain rippled down his back. His ankles shattered, dropping him down on all fours before realigning themselves, longer and far more powerful than before.

  A gust of cold spring air chilled his nakedness before fur, thick and golden, slithered out the thousands of pores in his skin. The sensation made him tremble and smile horribly. His cuticles stung as his claws grew thick and hard. His nails dug into the dirt and detritus of the forest floor, bracing him as his head was pulled back by the shifting of his spine. They grounded him against the ache of his teeth growing and shifting in a jaw that stretched into a snout.

  There was a final encompassing flash of pain then Owen’s wolf’s dark, moist nose twitched. He scented the air around him and was pleased by what he smelled. Weres. A lot of them. A healthy, vibrant pack, some of them already greeting each other, making play overtures. Instinctively his ears perked then rotated back. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, sensed no danger. Panting lightly, he tasted the air and liked that as well. He saw the fire but felt no sadness. He was an instinctual creature, not ruled by foolish human emotion or confusing thought.

  When he stepped into the clearing the two wolves closest to him jumped, spun and backed away. They weren’t young but there was no real strength in them. They’d been caught unaware by the arrival of this new wolf, obviously frightened by the confidence and power he radiated. Owen was used to that and he stood still for a moment, telescoping his energy before dropping his head and sniffing their genitals. They held themselves still for his inspection. Taking charge came naturally to this wolf and few had ever challenged him for the right to sniff first.

  Owen sensed the mating bond between the two, knew they were past the midpoint of their life expectancy, caught the lingering scent of pups that were almost full-grown. He didn’t rush his perusal of the pair. His approach was calm, thorough and he took charge of the meeting without effort. When he was finished he held himself still so the pair could sniff him. They did so quickly. Lesser wolves didn’t tempt fate by pissing off more powerful wolves and lingering around a male’s vulnerable backside was liable to piss him off.

  When the female splayed her front paws, dropped to her chest, tilted her head to one side and let her tongue loll out the side of her mouth Owen yipped, bounced in place and obliged her
by chasing after her when she ran playfully through the clearing. Her mate ran beside Owen, although he stayed a step behind. The three of them ran fast, their feet pounding over the earth, driving hard. The bitch spun with surprising agility, rolled, gave Owen’s shoulder a solid nudge then took off again. He caught up to her, bounced his heavy skull off her hip then opened his mouth in a parody of a human smile when she flopped down, waved her paws in the air and showed her belly.

  Her mate caught up to them, raced around to her other side, rubbed his snout over the curve of her breastbone and jumped away obligingly when she cuffed him. The female scrambled to her feet, yelped in invitation and took off again. Owen stayed where he was this time and watched the pair run off to continue their play.

  The wind freshened and from near the fire brought a scent that felt like…home.

  He made his way through the pack. Bodies shifted subtly, making room for him. No one challenged him or blocked his path. If they had, his first reaction would have been surprise. No were challenged him. No one had for a long, long time. He closed in on the scent and found its source in a large, reddish-brown bitch who was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with two massive chestnut males.

  Only the larger of the two came close to Owen’s size. He addressed this wolf first. Not because of his size but because his carriage and confidence trumpeted Alpha. For a moment instinct told Owen to challenge him. Every pack had to have a leader and that leader had to be stronger than the others and not just physically. An Alpha needed an innate ability to lead and believe without a doubt he had the biggest balls in the forest. Owen sensed this male was well-matched to him. Maybe even his equal. He looked around the clearing. This wasn’t his pack. These weres weren’t his family. He could lead, had the gift for it but he’d been on his own for so long he’d lost the drive to take over a group just because he could.

  Instead of challenging the Alpha, instead of approaching him as an equal, Owen presented his flank to the large wolf and let it sniff first. Despite his instincts it felt right to show respect here. The Alpha took the invitation without question but he kept his sniffing short before letting Owen sniff him.

  The wolves around them tensed visibly. This meeting could get ugly. Tempers could flash over. Dominance would have to be asserted. The wolves backed away and stopped only when the two massive males lifted their heads, let their tails relax and turned to the confident bitch standing a few feet away.

  Owen approached her calmly so she wouldn’t startle. She was the source of the scent that had drawn him. She was young, younger than him. Projecting the haughty, righteous strength of a top bitch, she growled softly, made her lip flutter but accepted his invitation to sniff her. He smelled her at the same time. They moved around each other slowly, taking the full measure of each other’s strength, age and health. To Owen she did smell like home. A home he’d left behind so long ago he’d forgotten the taste of it. There was no compulsion to return to it though. No yearning or sense of entitlement. It was more an echo than a living, viable presence in his mind. Owen’s wolf didn’t understand but it didn’t need to. It simply accepted what was.

  Catching Owen off guard, the young bitch licked his snout. No were had tended to him like this since he’d been a pup. He held himself still, submitted to her nurturing touch, shook his head when the other chestnut male, the Beta, whined softly and nuzzled the bitch’s cheek. Owen stepped aside obligingly, letting the males crowd their mate. He didn’t want a fight. He wanted to play. Dropping to his chest, he barked twice and leaped up when the bitch spun and took off so fast she was nothing more than a reddish-brown blur.

  She led the three males through the pack, dodged wrestling weres and groups chasing each other in tight circles. Young and strong, she sped by the others with an agility and gift for evasion that left Owen shaking his head in surprise.

  Other wolves joined in their chase. They exuded joy as they raced around the clearing, falling in and out of the game as either attention or endurance flagged. Owen and the two chestnut males didn’t flag. They chased the bitch with a singular focus, exalting in their strength and the freedom to play.

  When the top bitch bolted for a clearing that had opened up between the jostling, racing wolves and disappeared into the forest, Owen pulled back. He stopped instead of following the three mates. Their bond was strong. Their acceptance of his presence was a courtesy but only that. It would be fun to run with such strong wolves but tonight he didn’t want to feel like the outsider he was.

  Turning back to the wolves still playing in the clearing, Owen inhaled and felt his ears perk when a fresh, seductive scent passed in front of his nose. A female with long, strong legs, eyes that shone like moon-blue ice and a coat as glossy and dark as midnight strolled past. She cast him a haughty look over her shoulder but Owen wasn’t fooled by her feigned disinterest. This was a healthy, choice female. Young and unmated, she approached him from upwind and flicked her tail up for him as she walked past.

  His tongue lolled out and he licked the drool off his lips.

  A flurry of movement on the far side of the clearing jerked his attention away from the black bitch.

  Another female, small and sleek, skidded to a halt, jumped sideways and spun to evade a pack of no less than six males chasing her. The males crashed into each other, howled indignantly, snapped and snarled as they righted themselves. Then they jostled one another as they tried at the same time to get close enough to her backside to catch her scent. Her golden-brown fur was lightly streaked with the color of sunshine. Her lips pulled back in a parody of a smile as she jumped again, leaving the males to untangle themselves before they could resume chasing her. She was beautiful when she ran. Small and agile, there was joy in her every movement.

  Owen’s nose dragged his eyes away from her. Another bitch, long, red and putting out enough pheromones that Owen’s hips actually started rocking, strolled by. The tip of his penis began to emerge from its protective fur-covered sheath. This wolf would be coming into heat soon. Owen and every other male nearby began to trail after her. A few of them cried out in pain when the bitches they’d been playing with smacked them hard with their forepaws or slammed their skulls into their ribs. Unimpeded by a mate’s claim on him, Owen followed the red bitch for a while, knocked her shoulder with his when he got close enough, stepped aside obligingly when another male squeezed between them.

  He could fight the other males for the right to mount this female but claiming her would mean siring the pups her body was gearing up for. Owen’s wolf didn’t act on its urges. In fact, the red bitch was simply forgotten when the golden-brown female ran past, still trailed by her would-be suitors. Skirting the males around him and knocking the rest aside, Owen joined in the chase. The golden-brown female looked over her shoulder, saw him bearing down on her and put on a burst of speed.

  Owen’s wolf bayed with delight. This was what he’d yearned for. This was what he’d needed. The freedom to play, to be part of a group, accepted equally because they had no claims on him and he had no claims on them. At top speed she turned in a tight, controlled arc. Owen felt his heart beat faster as he exerted himself to keep up. She was lighter and more agile. He was the most powerful being in this clearing this night and his powerful flanks and solid bones let him drive through a turn that made two other males spin out and bowl over a group standing nearby. The rest of the males were no more than a body length behind him. The female turned again, in the opposite direction, only this time Owen was too close. He overshot her path and by the time he was back on her tail the rest of the group was ahead of him.

  Growling, he dug his claws into the ground, used the traction to push off, hard, and leaped forward so fast his ears flattened in the wind. One then two males dropped behind him. He caught up to the third, nipped the back of its leg and snarled with pleasure when the male yelped in surprise and dropped out of the race.

  There was only one more male between him and the female. This one was big but a little clumsy because of it.
It raced after the female with open exuberance, perhaps enjoying the chase as much as Owen. Owen matched this brown wolf stride for stride, content to hang back with the other big male so the female’s sharp, sudden turns wouldn’t catch him unaware. But Owen’s wolf was too competitive, too sure of its right to dominate to accept the other male as an equal in the chase. He slammed his body into the brown male’s and left him yelping and skidding across the dirt.

  Alone now, without competition, Owen gave the golden-brown female his full attention. He snarled, letting her know he was biding his time before he caught her. She threw herself into a wild sprint in response. Owen kept up. At this speed he knew he couldn’t control his turns like she could. If she deeked, he’d spin out and would be blowing dirt out of his snout for a week. Instead of turning, however, the female stopped. Owen’s head snapped to the side so fast his neck hurt as he blazed past her. He dug his paws into the ground, locked his shoulders and spun around before he’d stopped moving. When he raced back to her she simply sat, opened her mouth in a wide grin and began to pant, hard.

  Wary of another dodge, Owen approached her slowly. She didn’t move. She simply sat where she was and watched him, letting him approach her. Although small, she exuded an unmistakable confidence. Clearly strong and smart enough to relish play, she stood up when he was beside her, bumped her chest into his shoulder then held herself still so he could sniff her. Even though it was night, she smelled like she’d been warmed by the sun. There was no challenge in her, merely calm acceptance. When she dropped her head and tapped his jaw with the top of her snout, Owen pushed her away playfully then let her head-bump him again.

  The big brown male trotted up to them and moved beside her like they were old friends. Two more males, followed by the final three, joined them. Owen was jostled away from the female. Reacting instinctively, he growled in warning then sank his teeth into the thick ruff of the closest male. He shook his head once, hard, then let go. The male whimpered and took two steps back. Two other males spun away from the female and charged. Owen dodged the first, getting in a hard underbelly nip as the other flew past him in an uncoordinated blur of fur. He threw his weight up onto his back legs when the third reached him and came down in a flurry of growls, snapping teeth and swiping forepaws. The third male dropped under the weight of Owen’s body, scrambled, tried to roll away and cried out in fear when Owen latched on to his throat and bit hard enough to touch skin.