Rebel Moon

Chapter Four - How the Pancakes got Burned

Chapter Four - How the Pancakes got Burned

William 

I grew up in a large and wealthy pack.  We had a staff of omegas (paid, of course) that took care of all the domestic work in the house.  They cooked our meals, washed our laundry, they even came into my bedroom every day and picked up my dirty socks.  Add to that the fact that I am the second son of an alpha... well, let's just say I’ve been pretty pampered.   

Then Nina showed up, the chosen bride in a disastrous arranged marriage to my brother, Nolan.  My brother was my brother, and I will always love him, but let's face it;  He was an asshole.  He hated Nina before he even laid eyes on her, if only for the fact that our parents had forced her on him.  He was told if he wanted to be alpha, he would marry the bride of their choosing – and being Alpha was the only thing that truly mattered to him.  So he treated Nina like s**t.  I’m ashamed to even go into the details of how awful he was to her.  I think any other woman would have broken, but Nina wasn’t any other woman.  The girl had balls of solid rock.  She packed her bag and walked right out the front door.  And I went with her, along with her friend Daisy.  That’s how the three of us ran away to start our own pack. It's kind of a long story... 

The point being... with so few of us in the house, and so little money, there was no way we could expect other people to do our work for us.  Nina insisted we all had to share in the duties, until the day we could afford to pay a staff.  That meant yours truly had to learn how to cook.  I can dance like Fred Estere, but I can not boil water.  Poor Daisy tried her best to teach me some basics, but I still manage to burn the toast, scorch hot chocolate, undercook the eggs, and make soggy macaroni and cheese.  As it turns out, the only thing I can cook that is at least edible, is pancakes.  And only if you give me the “just add water” instant mix.   

Two years later, that’s still all I know how to cook.  I get breakfast duty every Saturday morning, making pancakes for twenty-five hungry werewolves.  I had a bandana tied over my hair, and Daisy’s Hello Kitty apron was tied around my waist as I poured circles of batter across the griddle.  Daisy usually helps me out by chopping up some fruit, and maybe popping some sausages in our oven.  I didn’t see Daisy, so I cranked up some music, and set about dancing my way through breakfast prep.  The really bad mistakes... the ones that slipped off the spatula when I tried to flip them, or that stuck to the pan because I didn’t add enough oil, or that got just a little too brown on the bottom, I put those on my plate.  I’m not ashamed to eat my mistakes. 

Daisy came breezing in the back door like a breath of fresh air.  Literally.  Daisy is that ray of sunshine, the always optimistic, always happy, bright, cheerful, Pollyanna kind of girl.  She has the biggest, bluest eyes, and these crazy yellow-gold curls. She has a wide mouth, and a nose that turns up just a little bit.  She had a basket hooked over her arm which was piled high with produce from our gardens.  She gave me her mega-watt smile, “Good morning, Will!  I’ve got fresh strawberries to go with your pancakes today!”  She showed me the three quarts of plump, fragrant berries.  She put them into the sink to wash, and then went back for the rest of her vegetables. 

“Yum, I love strawberries.” I reached around her and plucked a strawberry out of her bowl, and then danced away before she could swat me. 

She frowned a little, “You aren’t the only one, apparently.  Someone has been in the strawberry gardens.” 

“Huh?” I popped the strawberry in my mouth, and savored its sweetness, “What do you mean?” 

“Someone has been picking our strawberries.  And not just a few here and there.  Two whole rows were cleaned out.” 

I scratched my head and adjusted my bandana.  “Hey that’s not cool.  You don’t think it could be one of the kids?”  We had recently added a couple of teenagers into the pack.  They were pretty good kids, but I wasn't sure they could resist the temptation of garden fresh strawberries just ripe for the picking.

She turned and leaned against the sink.  “I don’t think so.  I mean sure, a kid might get in there, pick a handful, but you know how kids are... they are going to pick the biggest and the best and the ones that are easiest to get at.  These were picked clean... no I think it's an adult.”  She looked back at her basket.  “There are other things gone, too.  Some carrots and beets, some of the zucchini.  There is even some lettuce missing.” 

“Really?” I turned away from her to flip my latest batch.  “That’s really weird.  Why would anyone steal from the garden, when they get all of their meals here in the pack house for free?”  I glanced over my shoulder, “Did you smell anything off?” 

She shrugged a thin shoulder.  “Not really... just people who normally help in the garden.” 

“Huh,” I carefully levered my finished pancakes into the insulated hot-pot to keep them warm for serving.  “I’ll mention it to Shane.  Just keep an eye on things.” 

“Sure,” she said easily, and began slicing the top off from her berries.  With both of us in the kitchen, our backs to each other, she said quietly, “I heard Gabe talked to you.” 

I stiffened and swore when I accidentally burned my finger.  I blew on my injured digit, and continued pouring batter.  “Yeah, he talked to me.  That’s a really sticky situation, Daisy.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grumbled.  There was something off in her voice.  A heaviness that just wasn’t Daisy. 

“So why don’t you tell me,” I suggested gently. 

She sighed heavily and swept the strawberry tops into the compost bin.  “I want a baby.” 

“Well, that’s wonderful, Daisy!  Raine needs a playmate!” 

“It's not wonderful,” she said morosely.  “Gabe doesn’t want me to get pregnant.” 

“What? But... you are mates!  Why?”  I paused with my spatula hanging in mid-air. 

She slammed the knife down on the cutting board with more force than necessary.  “He says he doesn’t want to father a half-breed weakling.”  She promptly burst into tears.

And that is how the pancakes got burned.