chief of the Wolf-Men

“A search party must be sent out at once,” An adviser to my left demand, his voice husky and calm amidst the babbling that surrounds us. 

       Chestnut brown hair strikes out from his head in spikey disarray, I can’t tell whether it’s purposeful or if he’d just crawled out of bed and rushed to my home. He’s the youngest among the pack advisers, four years my elder. Though, by appearance alone, most would guess the gap closer to a decade. The dark bags and deep lines of his face carry the weight of substantial stress. What that stress is, I don’t care to know. I have enough of my own, more if truth be told; thanks to my foolish young brother. 

       I meet his tired opal-esque gaze. “I intend to, thank you Ufari,” I tell him, keeping up pleasantries despite my annoyance. Do my advisers think me so incapable that they must state the obvious? 

       My fingers tap against the hard, dark wood arm of my couch, gaze sweeping off to the side. I make note of the clutter gathered in the corner, a hill of pelts- new and old- gathers dust at the top. If Arken was going to run off, he could’ve at least cleaned up his mess before leaving. 

       The boy never takes care of his things, including his life; which he’s making a complete mess of.

       “I say we let him go, disown him from the pack,” Abden, one of my chief advisers, says in his usual gruff tone. The long grey hair and untamed beard cover him more than the short, auburn furs draped over his shoulders.

       My lips tighten, I imagine they make a firm, hard line as I rise. Slowly, methodically I step closer to him. My mouth twitches in satisfaction when he steps back in response.

       “If it was best for the pack, I may consider your words. But, is he not the most viable option we have?” I turn from Abden, meeting eyes with each person infesting my living room. I need to put a stop to this, before anyone decides to give Abden their support.

       “No other men of his age have enough pedigree to be presented for the princess’ betrothal,” I state, putting every ounce of authority I wield into my words as I add, “We need him.”

       “Of course we do,” Ufari nods at his own words, then shifts his gaze away from me and onto Abden before continuing, “The intermarriage between our tribe and Saffron’s Royal family is the only thing that joins us. Quells the distrust between us and them, or do you forget history so easily? Because I will forever be haunted by my grandmother’s stories, how she’d cried when she told me what great grandfather had done. The young life he’d purposely stolen in revenge for his friends’ unborn child. How he lost his own life to the father’s blade soon after. A knight, as fate would have it.”

       The room stills, every expression my eyes ghost over mirrors the next; somber and heavy with the loss of lives never known. My own shoulders tense under the weight, the responsibility of ensuring such events are never repeated.

       Ufari clears his throat. Six pairs of eyes immediately fall on him, including my own. “I’m sure that each of you have a similar story, but I think my point has been made. I won’t ask you to share yours. However, I do ask that you remember them.”

       “For what purpose?” Abden asks, lips curved in a twisted, unreadable expression. Though moments ago the weight had seemed just as heavy on him as for the rest, it seems that his stubbornness won’t allow him to back down so easily.

       I feel my abdomen tighten, my body tensing for battle. Unfortunately, my experience as a hunter will do me little good here. Still, I square my shoulders, taking center stage with an expression that, I hope, is hard and leaves no room for argument. 

       A hand gently squeezes my left shoulder before I can speak. “Sila,” Ufari starts, as I frown up at him. “Considering your personal feelings on this matter, I think it would be best if you allow us to make this decision. Being Chief, it would be best to keep any negativity from being directed your way.”

       “I agree.” Abden is quick to state, likely hoping his thick, grey beard will hide the twitch of his lips. I can see a triumphant glint in his dull, brown eyes. He thinks he will win this, without me to overrule him. 

       It sparks the first embers of a fire within me, one I have been dousing since Arken failed to return from his lesson with Balt. I’d nearly been enveloped in the flames of my own rage when he’d claimed no knowledge of where my brother has gone, nor why Arken has done something so foolish as fleeing from his own pack. From me, the last of his blood ties.

       “While I agree with your words, Ufari, I think it’s too cruel to exclude her from this. We are speaking of her brother’s future, of possibly marking him as a Loner,” Kirsa say, her emerald green eyes casting sympathy upon me.

       It makes me feel weak, and that’s the last thing I am. “I abdicate my rights in this decision.”

       Kirsa’s eyes widen, her gray-blonde ponytail swaying as she tilts her head. “Are you sure, dear?”

       I close my eyes, releasing a breath before I reopen them and speak, “Yes. I trust that you all will make the right choice.”

       “Good,” Ufari starts from beside me, already in the midst of a stare-down with Abden, “then let’s get to it.”

       I return to the couch, sitting so quickly that my body bounces on impact with the firm, black cushion. Doing my best to appear casual, I pick tiny bits of our forest from my thick, black furs. The conversation reignites almost instantly.

“He should be cast out, the matter of a replacement is easily solved. My grandson is twenty-two, I’m sure the king will find it an acceptable age gap.” Abden’s words have me gritting my teeth, though I don’t dare look at him, I can’t allow my eyes to betray me.

“The princess is already opposed to this marriage, the King already made that clear when he attempted to bribe us into releasing her from the pact’s hold. If it had not been for his own council’s opposition, and our refusal to accept his offering, the marriage would have been called off a year ago. If we bend the rules, we will only give him a means to sway his people. We will lose the marriage,” Kirsa says, her tone heavy. Giving the impression that chaos will ensue, should her words go unheeded.

It reminds me once again that, despite her kindness, she can be quite formidable when deemed appropriate. I should know, she was my teacher after all. It comforts me to have her so firmly on my side.