Page 53 of The First and the Last
"It takes a lot intention and mental focus. The tea Mrs. O’Malley makes for me helps keep me subdued, and now and again, your father and I go on our trips, and I unleash whatever’s been pent up in me on him and . . .”
“Thanks, Mom!” I cut her off sharply. “I think that’s a lot more than I need to know.”
She giggled and shrugged, but not very apologetically.
“What was all that about me being the White Wolf? I mean, you know that’s bullshit, right?”
She cocked her head and looked at me curiously.
“The White Wolf is a myth, Mom. It’s a fairy tale. I’m an alpha and my wolf happens to be white. That’s all.”
She studied me for a long time. “I may not know everything, Sully, but I know instinct and fate. And I know the pack needs a strong leader and you're the strongest wolf I've ever seen.”
I closed my eyes and tried to find the strength I’d need to lead a broken, aging pack. I came up empty. “I’m not ready, Mom.”
She was quiet, forcing me to fill the silence.
“I can’t do it. I don’t know how. I barely even know how to be a wolf. I can’t lead a pack. Plus, you killed Dalton, so technically,technically, you’re the Cleary pack leader.” I was desperate and was clutching at straws, but it was all I could do.
“I’ve never wanted to lead a pack, Sully. I’ve made a lot of choices in my life to ensure that I didn’t have to, but I hear you. You’re young and new to shifting. If you’re not ready, I’ll lead the pack until you are. You’re my son. It’s in my nature to help you any way I can. Just make sure you focus on getting ready as fast as you can. Believe me, this is your destiny, not mine.”
Floods and floods of relief washed over me. Leading the pack would come later. First, there’d be time for learning more about being a wolf, time to disabuse the pack of the crazy idea that I was the White Wolf, and plenty of time left over to love Jules.
Jules came back into the room, his hair wet and spilling tiny droplets of water onto his cheeks. I tried to get up, thinking I’d take a shower too.
“What do you think you’re doing?” cried Jules and my mother in almost perfect unison.
“I stink. I need a shower and then I need to get some fresh air.”
“Don’t even think about it,” warned my mother, tiny filaments of gold leaking into her dark irises. “You get back into bed this second, young man.”
I couldn’t tell if it was her booming mom-voice or the fact she’d just alphaed me that affected me, but I froze for a second. That was all it took for Jules to launch himself onto me, knocking me back down onto the bed, and taking up residence on my chest once more.
I laughed helplessly from under him. “What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you know anything? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that wolves grow big and strong when they play outside?”
My mother started laughing too. “God help us all if you grow any bigger.”
That night, after two more helpings of dessert and having been forced to spend the rest of the day in bed, I was finally allowed out. We gathered under the cottonwood tree in front of the pack house. It was dark. The moon wasn’t much more than a sliver, but the sky was alight with stars. My mother broke the news to the pack that she’d be leading them until I was ready to step up. They accepted it without question. Afterward, the whole pack got to their feet and started undressing. As they did it, the thin, strained voice of Mrs. O’Malley rang out across the valley. It started out as a song that was ancient and haunting. It was strangely familiar, and as comforting to me as a warm blanket on a cold night. Gradually, I became aware of heartbeats around me slowing. They slowed and slowed until all the members of the pack were beating as one. Mrs. O’Malley’s song changed then. It changed from being melodic, to guttural, and then from guttural to something altogether different. It was a call. A call from a wise, wild woman to her pack. It was a call I recognized at once. My mother answered first with a long, somber howl. The rest of the pack followed suit. Our howls echoed so loudly that as we shifted, I could hear a cacophony of domestic dogs barking all the way down in town.
My mother took her place at the front of the pack and Jules and I brought up the rear. We tempered our pace to accommodate slower pack members. Still, once we started running, it felt like we were flying. Owls screeched as they left their perches, and deer scattered deep into the forest. Trees whizzed by in blurred flashes of green and brown. Our paws pounded the ground. We shook the whole mountain. The bond between Jules and me glowed in bright streaks of red, purple, and yellow. Everything was as it should be. All was good with the world. I was finally, finally running as part of a pack. I was made for this time and this shape and this place. It was perfect. I had the earth under my paws, the wind in my face, and Jules at my side.
