...and presented it to Alpha Aurora with more elaborate ceremonial flourishes, earning praise for his "meticulous strategy and sharp instincts."
This same wolf had "coincidentally" claimed a mysterious illness last moon cycle—right when the territory campaign hit a critical standpoint.
The moment I led the patrol through the crisis, he "coincidentally" recovered, swept in with the final battle reports, and delivered the victory howl himself.
I fixed him with a cold stare. Said nothing.
"Kael, brother, you're acting far too rashly here."
Garrick Thornvale shook his head, wearing an expression of genuine concern for my wellbeing.
"You're skilled, no one disputes that. It's just... sometimes you lack the subtlety required, you understand?"
"This is pack politics. It's not enough to be strong in your duties—you need to know how to navigate the hierarchy too, wouldn't you agree?"
The underlying message oozed from every word. He even clasped my shoulder, all pack-brother warmth.
"Precisely." Another pack member jumped in immediately, wearing an exaggerated false smile. "Kael, what sort of display is this meant to be?"
"Playing reluctant? Trying to pressure Alpha Aurora into granting you a rank raise?"
"I hate to inform you, but that tactic is as old as the first moon!"
Snickers rippled through the den.
I didn't stop. Kept gathering my few belongings into the leather satchel.
"Honestly, Kael, don't do anything foolish."
Someone else approached, leaning against the stone pillar, tone dripping with superiority.
"Your mate's at the den with the pup, no hunting rights of her own, correct? Your young one just entered his training years?"
"This is when resource demands truly mount. You just walk away like this—how will you secure next moon's rations? The territory dues?"
"No share of the hunt, your whole family will be surviving on scraps through the winter festival?"
The words barely settled before more "concerned" pack members gathered around.
"He speaks truth, Kael. We're all grown wolves here. Don't throw a fit like some untrained pup."
"So your pack boon was smaller than expected—Alpha Aurora already promised you a rank raise next season. Just endure until then."
"You understand how savage the pack territories are out there. In our world, once you're past your prime hunting years, no pack even considers your worth."
"You're what... nearing your fourth decade now? Walk out those den gates, who's going to claim you?"
"Stay here, at least your position is secure."
"Exactly. Why are you even measuring yourself against Garrick? His social cunning, his status maneuvering, his combat abilities—can you match any of that?"
"Sometimes you simply must accept your place in the hierarchy. Keep your head low, fulfill your duties, stop reaching for ranks that aren't meant for you."
The voices piled on top of each other, buzzing in my ears like a swarm of gnats.
And by the end, they'd abandoned all pretense entirely. Nothing but spite and ridicule.
"If you ask me, Kael receiving a quarter share for his boon was already generous. That rigid ward-work and strategy planning he does? Find a fresh-blooded wolf, train them for a few moons, they'd probably manage it better—and for fewer resources."
"A wise wolf knows his limitations. Pity some were born without that self-awareness."
"Let him put on his little performance. I give it three nights, at most, before he comes crawling back to beg Alpha Aurora for his place."
"Oh, that's going to be a scene worth witnessing..."
I'd had enough. I fastened the satchel shut.
Cleared my throat.
"Everyone finished?"
I turned to the pack member who'd started the underhanded pressure campaign.
Last season, his patrol ward had a catastrophic flaw. I'd pulled three consecutive sleepless nights restructuring his defensive formations to keep it from becoming a disaster that exposed our den.
"Alaric Crowfang. Remember?"
"That failure-riddled patrol ward of yours last season? I'm the one who salvaged your mess."
"Heard Alpha Aurora praised you afterward for staying steady under pressure and resolving it swiftly?"
"Impressive display. But do me a kindness—next time, don't use live pack defenses as your training ground."
His face flushed deep crimson. His jaw worked open and closed. Nothing emerged.
I turned to the pack member so "worried" about my rations.
"Dorian Ashclaw. Your mate doesn't hold hunting rights either. So that illicit trading you've been running secretly using pack resources last moon—was that meant to cover your territory dues?"
