The Rise of the Alpha

04

After a restful night's sleep, I awoke early, refreshed, and ready to do some training with my dad. Like an eager beaver (an expression my mom often says for whatever reason), I hopped out of bed and ran into my bathroom to do my business, then I changed out of my PJs and all but flew down the wing to my parent's room with the intention of waking the 'old man' up. Stopping at their door, I gave it the gentlest of knocks and waited for someone to answer, but after a minute or two of just standing around like a hallway decoration, I let myself in and crept over to their couch, plopping down quietly and twiddling my thumbs until they began to stir.

Though it had taken a bit, Dad finally registered my presence in the room and looked over his shoulder to acknowledge me. With unamusement written plainly across his face, he groggily groaned, "Honey, what are you doing in here at this hour? It's too early."

"Good morning," I whispered, bearing a smile that was apologetic with a hint of 'Oh, well!'. "I'm all ready to go."

Dad nudged my hardly-awake mom. "Babe … the miniature version of you is in here. Get up and tend to her," he told her, albeit it was done frivolously with lighthearted intention.

"She's your daughter this morning, Mark," Mom mumbled in return, her lips twisting up into the softest of smiles as she spoke. "You tend to her."

Covering my mouth with my hands, I snickered under my breath, which in turn seemed to coax my dad from his comfortable position. With a stretch of his arms above his head, he r.eleased a still-sleepy yawn then threw the bedding off of himself and sat upright. He then glanced in my direction, but as I was preparing to call him a slowpoke, he raised a finger to his lips in the universally-known 'shhh' sign, prompting me to zip it until further notice. As quietly as he could muster (in favor of being considerate toward my mother, of course), he stepped into his slippers then threw on his robe and made his way toward me, and with a warm, sleepy smile upon his face, he extended his hand for me to take hold of. When I took it, he pulled me to my feet, then with neither of us exchanging a peep, we left the room to traipse down the wing, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. "Coffee first, and then we'll go," he said, holding us up for that much longer.

Maybe one of these days I'll understand the appeal and whatnot of that strong, dark substance, but it won't be today! "Oh, fine, you old man," I teased in return, and if the tone of my voice, alone, hadn't alluded to the fact that I was joking around with him, the goofy smile I was sporting surely would have done the trick! I love that I can joke with him like this, too! He's just a cool dad like that.

*****

With Cyrus playing Tag Along with us, the three of us explored the grounds and trained for a few hours, which I felt wasn't nearly long enough but my dad felt the opposite. I didn't mind Cyrus being there, really; he was a handy man to have around, being fae and all. Anyway, he and I yapped each other's ears off all the way home, and my poor dad was stuck in the middle of all that chatter. Every now and then, I noticed Dad's eyes going blank and he'd zone out, and after a few times of that, he informed me that my mom was mindlinking him, asking where we were, how long we'd be, what we were doing, and all that other jazz. I thought the whole notion of being able to speak directly to someone via the power of my mind was awesome, and I couldn't wait for the day that I would finally get my wolf so that I could do that, too!

Nearing home, I took off in a sprint and breezed ahead of my slower-paced companions, running so fast that I whizzed right by the sitting figure hanging out near the break in the trees which marked the pathway into the woods. "Oh!" I yelped as the man's identity registered, then I spun on my heels and said, "Hey, Uncle Amos! What'cha doin' just sitting there?"

My uncle's eyes remained on the book he was thumbing through. "Reading," he answered plainly, then he looked up from the thing and added, "And you?"

"Just playing," I replied, then with loads of ten-year-old enthusiasm, I said, "Hey, guess what my dad and I did this morning?"

"I despise guessing games, dear niece," he mumbled in return, turning his attention directly back to the book he was holding.

I laughed his response off then told him, "Dad and I just trained for a while, and he taught me some defensive moves. Wanna see 'em?"

"Lovely … but no," huffed my uncle, then he closed the book and placed it in his lap. "It's nearing time for us to be getting ready for lunch, you see?"

He was right; Dad, Cyrus, and I had been out and about for, like, four hours or so! "Oh ... well, maybe some other time, then," I mumbled, shoving my hands into the pockets of my denim shorts. "I mean, there's always tomorrow, and-"

"Yes, dear niece ... there's always tomorrow," he cut me off, rising to his feet as he spoke.

Even at my young age, I genuinely hate it when someone – especially an adult – does that to me! I'd never get away with doing that to a grown-up, and I didn’t understand why they found it so acceptable to do it to us kids! You can call it whatever you wanna call it, but I call it being just plain rude! "Yep," I muttered, swallowing my annoyance. I then scanned the woods behind me to see if I could catch a glimpse of my dad and Cyrus heading my direction. "I'm gonna have to train hard if I'm gonna be the alpha of this pack one day, y'know?"

At my words, my uncle's features livened up a smidgen. "You know, Leila ... those swift, new defensive moves sure will come in handy against the rogues out there," he mentioned, but there was a peculiar kind of seriousness in that statement of his.

"R-rogues?" I stammered in return. "What are those?"

"Why, you don't know what a rogue is, dear one?" he asked, concern present in his voice.

"Nope. Never heard of 'em before," I answered, shrugging my shoulders as I spoke. "Are they trouble or something?"

"Oh, they're horrid, nasty beings whom society simply doesn't want," the man further explained with widened eyes. "Didn't that father of yours ever tell you a tale or two of them before?"

"Nuh uh," I replied, and even though he went on with his explanation, I figured he was just pulling my leg or trying to get one over on me, so I didn't take to heart the information he was sharing. "Hope we're safe from them."

On that note, my uncle wrapped me in an uncharacteristic hug; I say 'uncharacteristic' because he wasn't typically much of a hugger, but I figured he'd made an exception just for me! "Oh, yes! Why, we have nothing to worry about as far as they're concerned. They're banished beings, and your father and our neighboring packs have gone to supreme measures to keep our territories not only rogue-free but also secured."

I squeezed him back. "Good to know, then, Uncle," I said, then I peeled myself from his grasp and added, "Wanna walk with me to the dining room? It's Taco Tuesday, and Ms. Beverly makes some epic tacos and stuff, y'know?" About that time, I was able to register the sounds and scents of my dad and Cyrus, and they were growing stronger by the second. Several moments later, they popped into view.

"Brother," my dad acknowledged my uncle as he approached, the latter of whom returned the greeting with a single, silent nod. "Ready?" he then directed at me.

Nodding, I grabbed his outstretched hand, then the four of us made our way to the packhouse, chatting mindlessly about this and that along the way.