To transform an omega

The meeting

His name was River, and like the longest river, he flowed, touching every part of me. I had once cleaned his room and there I had stolen his painting. I don't think he knew who had taken it, or even suspected that it was gone. I had taken it, wanting something that was his, that had come from him

Some days ago, at the start of winter, as I did every day, I set out to forage for mushrooms. Sammie had warned me about a storm coming but I paid no mind, too confident in my ability as a wolf shifter to navigate any kind of weather. The touch of winter on the forest floor was like shiny crystals, leaves shimmering with melting snow and some trees stood bare like the bleeding mother herself had stripped them naked. Walking fast to cover more ground, I trod deeply into the woods. The woods belonged to the pack. It bordered the town of Fairview and it was marked as private property. Once in a while we had trespassers who were usually turned away by pack enforcer guards stationed at different perimeters of the woods. The guards were to ensure against rogue shifters and human hunters.

As I walked, letting my mind wander, I thought about the painting I had siphoned from the alphas room, I had seen him once or twice before in the pack house since my mobility around the pack was limited. There were places I was allowed to go and there were places I was not allowed. But here in the woods I was free to roam. Although not too far. Stopping to listen I heard the sound of the lake and I quickly hurried over. I knew there were guards around. I caught their scents in the breeze, something musky and earthy and knew they were closer than I first thought

I didn't react to the scent of alpha because I wasn't uvulum yet. I hadn't gotten my first heat, so most of my shifter senses were dormant. Omegas usually got their first heat when they turned eighteen unless one was an anomaly which was incredibly rare or they met their true mate. A true mate had the ability to put his omega in heat. It is a natural occurrence triggered by the mating bond. Sometimes uvulum was triggered unintentionally, as an omega's heat could be very nerve wracking and time consuming. The passion could last for days, draining both omega and alpha in the process but leaving them extremely sated. I knew all of these from listening to Lyra, I always got second hand information from her. Lyra is also an orphan. We were raised together but her circumstances were largely different from mine, her parents were both murdered by hunters when she was nine and she was brought to the pack house, a few week later we became fast-friends. Lyra was always privy to new information as she mingled amongst pack women. I couldn't ask Sammie because I didn't think she knew. She was an old omega maid. Never mated. She didn't seem to want to. The story I had heard around the pack was that her fated mate had died in her arms. Before they had an opportunity to consummate their bond and be truly mated. Her mate had lost his life to a hunter scuffle, and so Sammie had decided not to mate again. She was assigned the duty of raising the orphaned pup and she had gladly accepted.

Nearing the lake, the sound of birds chirping and the slow moving water was a welcome sight. Just to the right was a part of the woods that was covered in dense foliage where mushrooms lay abundant. Hiking up the lower parts of my pants, carefully, I pushed the tall bushes aside and swatted at a spider that came careening close to my face. Gosh, I hated spider, and bugs and crawling things. My shiver of revulsion was incontrollable

Carefully studying the blobby mass on the ground, I began to inspect and remove what was edible and what wasn't. Placing a handful of the mushrooms in my little basket. I inched closer, the deeper I went the more mushrooms I found, as I picked them, my excitement grew to dizzying heights. I suspected that this was the last time I would come out here for a while, and a secret part of me wanted to impress Sammie with my bounty. I wanted to see her mouth which was constantly curved in distaste break out in a huge smile at the contents of my basket. My imagination ran amuck and so I delved deeper. Deeper than I had ever gone. Marking the trail, I kept going, hoping to find another patch of mushrooms.

After a few minutes of my foraging, I sat down on the bare hard ground to rest a bit. Before leaving that morning I had packed myself a lunch of toast and some fruits, a banana and an apple. It was the earsiet meal I could make for myself, for those days when I barely had time to take a bite between chores. Those days when Sammie pushed us like work horses. Before leaving the kitchen that morning, I had double wrapped my sandwich and sealed it in a Ziploc bag before placing it in my basket.

Bringing out the almond buttered toast I made that morning before leaving, I took a hearty bite and moaned in delight,the flavor bursting in my tongue. The almond butter was so fresh it bordered on unreal, the crunchiness of the bread paired well with the rich and creamy taste. It was so delicious that in just a few bites I was done, leaving only barely there crumbs on the hard ground. Opening my little canteen, I took a swig of water, noting how frigid the temperature was getting but I wasn't bothered. Yet. I still had time. I could handle a little cold. As I sat there ruminating, thinking about my considerable lack of friends and what life would be like for me in the pack once I turned eighteen. I would be eighteen in a few days. In six days to be precise. And I wasn't happy about that fact. No one in my shoes would