1: a weak wolf

                                    

                                          
I can't help it, eyes trained on eyes, I'm supposed to be prey in this setting but I want to be the predator. I'm hungry for power, it's this craving I have constantly, never satisfied in this day to day thing I do. 
                          
The big males gather around the worn wooden table, strong and sturdy, a barrier between me and them, as if I'm being quarantined. I am infected to them and they don't know what to do. 
                          
I fight with the females in this pack, all the shewolves ganging up on me, but I don't back down. They say I don't understand this life, my place, my part. 
                          
So earlier today when I punched the girl with two black braids, I didn't feel very sorry, I just punched again. The animal in me wanted to use teeth, to tear a chunk out in front of everyone, let them know. 
                          
Everytime I meet the eyes of someone, they growl, they hate me. There is a beta, a few fathers and grandfathers, some newly mated males and some unmated... And lastly, Alpha Parsim and his son Blu.
                          
His only son at that. This male has my attention for sure, we constantly regard each other, I never look away and his lip lifts in a snarl every time. I don't want to look away from this male. Bright blue eyes clashing with the yellow ones that I know make him uncomfortable. They make everyone  uncomfortable. I am more wolf they say, more wild. These unnerving words they say behind my back. It's killing me. 
                          
He's seventeen winters old, got this head of blonde hair that tinges brown at the top where his summer sun's bleaching is fading to its winter color as we approach fall's end. A strong face equipped with pale lips and a straight nose turns cheek to me, I smirk as I have won this staredown. Pride is filling me, radiating from my skin, tainting the air with it's depictable scent. 
                          
We both know what we are to each other. Mates. Yet he doesn't treat me like my father does my mother... Not that I want that exactly, besides the affection, undying loyalty, protection. This male is not loyal, he's a liar. I see him with every other female in this pack. He makes sure I know that anyone would be a better mate than me. 
                          
"I suggest you keep your eyes down, shewolf." Alpha Parsim's deep voice called over the table, causing me to shift on my feet with unease as I stared down his son, I don't lift my lip, that is too far. I can practically hear my name chanted at my own burial if I continue down this path. "You have a punishment coming if you do not stop. This is your choice." 
                          
We both know there isn't really a choice for me, or any female.
                          
I can't look down, but I have to. It's a choice I'm able to make, and I take that chance. I'm not sure how many opportunities for choice I have left.
                          
My eyes wander to the old oak table, tracing the lines with interest. 
                          
"Do you know the position of a female, Montana?" Alpha Parsim asks, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. 
                          
I nod my head slowly. I do, but I don't agree.
                          
"Answer with your words, shewolf!" He roars, hands slamming down on the table, I see the wood tremble, creaking with his strength.
                          
I can't help but cringe. "Yes." My voice is dry, devoid of emotions, but I fist my hands at my sides, concealing my angry nature. 
                          
"Then why do you fight?" His voice is lower again, trying to make me squirm with the discomfort of such a powerful gaze yet... I somehow feel detached. 
                          
"Because I am angry, Alpha." I snarl his title, it slips out, I can't resist my impulses.
                          
The big male leaps across the table in a blink and I'm pinned to the ground with so much ease. I guess it's really easy to take down a juvenile of fifteen winters.
                          
The Alpha's knee is in my back, my face pressed into the grass, arms tucked behind my back, I'm so uncomfortable. His wolf is right beneath the skin, I can sense him.
                          
It's painful, very much so, a whimper escapes against my will. My ribs feel like they're about to collapse in on my lungs.
                          
My nose is pressed into the damp earth, smashed actually, blood drips from my nostrils, drool from my lips where he uses one beefy hand to press into my neck and hold me to the ground even harder as I have begun to squirm. 
                          
"Get off me!" I scream, attempting to flail my arms and legs, I feel my own wolf rising to the surface, wanting to take control and I want to let it.
                          
"Shift and it will hurt. Your wolf will get one lesson of obedience you won't forget." He's snarling the words into my ear, letting me hear up close, how much hate he has for me. 
                          
A female with a hunger for power. 
                          
"Fuck. You." I spit it out of my mouth. Two very angry words directed at someone of power. A dictator with unrestrained power. 
                          
Instantly I am lifted by the scruff of my neck, yelping out in shocked pain as he is dragging me to the shed with the overhanging roof out front, the red hot iron ready for action. I squirm, eyes wide, trained on the tool of disobedience. Every single motion I willed to get myself here was by choice, and sometimes those lead to consequence. Mine usually do. 
                          
Cool, calm numbness seeps through my veins... No longer do I squirm, cry, or scream. Now I am passive, letting my consequence bore down in red hot flames attempting to melt this ice I submerge in.
                          
"For disobeying an Alpha, disgracing a pack, and not fulfilling the role of a female... I, Alpha Parsim, declare a branded punishment for these faults followed by the temporary exile of juvenile Montana Wrens." 
                          
Wrists bound, I am tied to the wooden poles connected by chains. Forced to my knees, I stare straight ahead as the pack gathers around me. Traitors! I bare my teeth at them, staring them all in the eyes until every last one looks away in unnerved reluctance, feeling bothered by association. 
                          
Their Alpha growls at me, then the gathered wolves, for showing such weakness. I growl too, my mother weeping in my father's arms as he coos to her- this is what she deserves. 
                          
"Once I am done here, you leave." Alpha's voice is hard in my ear, sending tingles of nature down my spine, begging for me to comply... The moon tells me no. 
                          
"Fine." I spit, bunching my shoulders to prepare for the burn, but there is no natural preparation for pain except a clenched jaw, breathing, and tense muscles. My shirt is torn down my back in one swipe of claw, barely clinging to my shoulders. 
                          
I feel the heat emanating from the metal object before it is plunged against my skin. Sizzling, burning, leaching blood and life from my flesh for another's own good. My head hangs but I want to look up, see the pale moon, full in the sky, but I can't. 
                          
I'm trembling, biting my lip til it bleeds just to stop noises from coming out but these little, agonized whimpers come out instead. Pathetic. I lick the blood off my lip but that doesn't stop my vitality from dribbling onto my chin.
                          
The brand I will bare is a circle, two half swirls frayed with two thin triangles that overlap through the middle... Punishment is pain. This is my pain, and I'll wear it forever.
                          
My eyes finally drift up as the torment starts to numb, adrenaline and bodily nature are my aids, consequences falling in the line of fate. He's standing there, staring at me, I wonder if he feels my pain?
                          
I lift my lip, showing my teeth to them all, before my head falls again, and this time I can't raise it back up. 
                          
A weak shewolf, just like all the others.
                          


                          


                          


                          


                          
song: Rising Water by James Vincent Mcmorrow