Romans & histoires An Unexpected Wolf Rank

She had a mane of wild brown and gold curls, and tanned skin, I couldn’t see her face but I nervously unfolded the note. “Rank?” Was all the note said and my stomach sank. This pack was entirely built on a ranking system, my aunt had spent the drive home from the airport explaining it, there was the elite tier, the best of the best, Alpha Abel held that spot, along with his beta and another warrior. After that there was the gold tier, this tier had 5 in each rank, gold 1, gold 2, and gold 3 for a total of 15 gold wolves. The silver tier was made up of 60 wolves, 20 in each rank. Bronze tier was where a majority of wolves ranked, it was made up of 150 wolves, 50 in each rank. And lastly there

Clara felt like she stepped into a time warp. "Since you're a...new wolf you will be at the bottom," Roxy said. "Sorry about that, but maybe someday a solider will take interest in you, then you could move up." "Or you could get pregnant," Nicole added. "Yeah!" Roxy didn't hide her excitement. "When you're pregnant and have a young kid the Alpha takes pity on you, but unless the father is someone important once your kid is a teenager you lose the respect again." Clara's mouth hung open. She had a Master's degree in art preservation. These women seemed to think getting pregnant was a respectable way to get ahead.

They only appeared when animals raided and attacked villages for food and fun. The wolves had many packs. Each had their territory that they defended against anyone outside of their pack. Within each pack, there were three different ranks. Typically, there would be two alphas and omegas in each pack. The rest were betas. The female lead is Neoma Harvest, the female Omega of the Harvest pack. Being of the lowest rank, she was not allowed to reproduce. Although she had accepted her role as the pack’s stress ball, ‘fate’ had something else in store for her.

Master Callen picked up a piece of chalk and wrote four words across the board: Base – Core – Elite – Sovereign. “These,” he said, “are the four ranks that define who you are as a werewolf.” He faced us again. “You cannot train into a higher rank. You are born with it — marked by your wolf’s strength and the spirit the Moon Goddess gave you.” He pointed to the first word. “Base Rank. The most common. These wolves have ordinary energy. They make up most of the packs — workers, scouts, healers, and laborers. Strong in their own right, but not made for battle.”

I hadn't been sure he could. I shifted to man, looking at the emotionally hurt and confused young wolf. His world had been turned upside down. Nothing he had been taught was helping him in an all wolffish environment. "Do you not understand that you haven't earned the right to eat with the hunters? In this pack, you have the lowest rank."

-He's already gone- was the quick reply of the older wolf before turning around. Izen ran quickly to her lord's side and whispered in his ear. -How the hell did she hear it, is she human?- But Vladek only shook his brow with a frown. The supposed man he was talking about was the head of the grounds guard for his father's pack, the alpha. The wolf had responded to her in this way because what he did not understand was how she had heard it. He looked over his shoulder as she followed them with a confused expression on her face, but she said nothing. Each time the human became more interesting.

No Species had asked to be genetically altered with animal DNA, it hadn’t been a choice they were given, and their only so-called crime had been to survive year after year of abuse at the hands of scientists, doctors, and researchers who used their bodies to create drugs to help humans. Not that they got much appreciation for any medical advancements their suffering had provided. The door opened and Tiger popped his head in cautiously. “I could hear you snarling from next door.” He edged inside and closed the door. “Are you all right?” “It’s just a bad day.” “That’s not uncommon. Has something happened that is unusually bad?” “We just have a new group of people to contend with.” “We always d

He was an Omega in one of the packs that would be joining us later in the week, the Red Opal pack, and – guessing from his mate’s scars – she was a warrior wolf. When a wolf mates, they ascend to whatever the highest ranking status is out of the two of them. This was fortunate for me, as it meant that I couldn’t drop lower than a Beta. Some thought that this was outrageous, as on multiple occasions wolves had moved from being Omegas to Alphas or Lunas.

The werewolf came, its feet hitting the ground mercilessly as its hands joined in its movement. It broke out from the woods, tearing off the leaves of the trees with less effort, and growling at the sight of the man. “You can't take anyone from my family.!” Mark grinned as he shifted under the bright moonlight. His bones cracked, and his skin stretched beyond its limits, tearing to become as tough as that of a wolf. He growled at the phantom, just as the phantom growled at him. Like two behemoths, they collided, and the green grasses on the ground fell victim to their battle.

When they weren't breaking any rules by being on no man's land, they were also extremely hostile. I had tried countless times to just speak to them, to get answers. It wasn't normal for so many rogues to be in one area, and their numbers were growing by the day. Rogues usually had a wild and territorial side that didn't like other wolves, even other rogues near them. Once a wolf went fully rogue, whether by choice or from banishment, its animal would start to take over. Even if they chose to live among humans in unclaimed territory, the lack of a pack would weaken them until either their wolf died or their wolf overpowered their human counterpart.