Fighting Fate

CHAPTER 5

“Three Longtimer applications in one year…”

“I still can’t believe it…”

“....house them together or…”

“3 unmated males at that…”

“We’ve never approved that many…”

“...package deal?”

“...could bring good outside perspective…”

“Finally getting some international interest…”

“Can we afford to host 3?”

Nat and Fiona walked down the hall to the conference room, listening to the smattering of conversation they overheard from the open doors.

Glancing sideways at her husband, she sighed, a bit jittery, knowing there were so many angles to consider. It would be a long meeting.

Nat winked at her and gave her shoulders a brief squeeze/

"You're going to do great." he linked before ushering her in ahead of him.

Their Alphas were already present, chatting with another couple toward the right side of the sitting area. Leadership from the other packs were mingling throughout the space.

Most had mugs in hand and the buffet table along one side of the room was laid out with pastries, fruit, and cheeses. Nat caught Mac’s eye and made his way over to check in with him. Fiona split off and went to greet other pack leaders. Everyone had questions and opinions.

The June meeting was the first opportunity to address Longtimer applications, and leaders were always curious about those who wanted to stay in the area more permanently. Submissions were only accepted between May 1st and June 10th. These applications had come in fairly late, which had left everyone in a bit of a tizzy to gather their thoughts, having assumed it would be another year without any applications at all. They’d all had 10 days to preview the applications and prepare questions/concerns to address at the quarterly meeting.

Over the next 15 minutes, the last few leadership members arrived and settled in. Mac was currently serving as High Alpha, so when he was sure everyone had arrived, he called everyone to attention.

“Welcome Alphas and Betas. As always, we’re happy to see you. I hope you’ve all found yourselves some breakfast, and there’s coffee and tea over near the bar. Spike it if you need to” He received a rumble of laughter at that.

“You all know my Betas, Nathaniel and Fiona Avery. Our pack secretary, Ashley, will be taking minutes, though you’re always welcome to record your own. If you need any refills during the meeting, our two assistants today are Jana and Mason.”

Meeting assistants were generally students who showed a particular interest in pack politics. They had to apply and show themselves to be responsible and discreet. They were not, however, privy to the meeting itself. They remained on the other side of the closed doors and received instructions via intercom should anyone need anything. Refreshments were passed through a small door in the wall where those inside could receive them. Jana and Mason smiled politely as the leaders acknowledged them.

“Let’s head through and get started. I know we’ve got our morning cut out for us.”

Mac swung his arm toward the double doors and everyone began walking through. Mac and his wife Heather sat in the central seats on one side of the table. Fiona and Nat were directly across from them. The other Alphas and Betas organized themselves freely. Each person had a folder with the meeting agenda and any paperwork needed.

Fiona opened her folder and took out the three applications, seeing others doing the same.

She and Nat had gone through them separately, then conferred together. Overall, they were encouraged by the prospects. It seemed the ambassador program, which was her own brainchild, was beginning to inspire werewolves in other countries to take an active interest in wolf populations. She’d keep her enthusiasm to an appropriate level today, but inside she was giddy.

“I, presiding High Alpha, William McInnes do hereby call this meeting of the Yellowstone Pack to order. Representing the McInnes pack is myself, fellow Alpha Heather McInnes, Beta Nathaniel Avery and Beta Fiona Avery. Representing the James pack is Alpha Mary James, Beta Owen Marsh and Beta Margaret Marsh. Representing the Gardner pack is…. ”

As Mac worked his way through the list of attendees for the record, Fiona felt Nat’s hand reach for hers below the table. She smiled as their fingers interlaced, the warmth from his palm radiating into her own. He knew this meeting agenda was a victory for her.

Glancing over, she smiled warmly. He leaned toward her to whisper in her ear, but mostly it was an excuse to run his hand along her thigh.

“You’ve lured 3 young males into our midst. Maybe we should’ve called it the “Siren Program” instead of “Ambassadors.” Not getting tired of me are you?”

Guiding his hand between her legs while keeping her face impassive, she turned her head to whisper back.

“Well, you aren’t getting any younger love.”

His eyebrows rose slightly and she casually sat back up with a smirk on her face.

"I'll remember that." He muffled his laughter and returned his attention to Mac.

“And now to the first item on our agenda: Discussion of three Longtimer applications, received June 5th, 2022. Applicants in question are Kieran Hughes of Ireland, Broc Drummond of Scotland, and Einar Skarin of Sweden. For an overview of the applicants, I’ll give the floor to Beta Fiona Avery. As you know, Fiona has been a leading voice in our Ambassador Program, which we feel has directly resulted in this unprecedented number of Longtimer applications for a single year. The room is yours Fiona. ”

Fiona looked around the table, ensuring everyone had the applications in front of them. She could see several had written notes in the margins.

As the lights dimmed, a screen descended from the ceiling at one end of the room.

It had been up to her and Nat to run background checks on each applicant, contact their references, confirm their educational and job histories, and present their findings and recommendations.

Mac and Heather had already seen the presentation of course, and they’d all workshopped potential questions and concerns other leaders would bring up. Closing her hand around the presentation remote and taking a breath to gather herself, she began.

***

Broc Drummond crouched at the edge of the glen. A herd of red deer had come in to graze a couple hours ago and it was time to move them along.

Long ago, when wild wolves still inhabited Scotland, prey animals didn’t stay in one area long. But large predators were no more and the deer were now a nuisance to the reforestation project. They’d happily stay all day and graze an area clean before moving on.

This particular glen hadn’t been fenced yet, so Broc and a few others on staff were tasked with making sure the herd didn’t destroy the tender seedlings and saplings.

On silent paws, he stalked down the shallow slope, muscles itching for the release and freedom of the chase. He wasn’t permitted to hunt right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t practice his approach. He liked to see how close he could get without detection.

He picked out a specific animal to target, just as he would on a hunting expedition. The doe he’d chosen had a fawn at her side, she’d be slower to accommodate it.

When he ran out of tall brush to conceal himself, he gathered his haunches for the first burst into the open. Satisfied he’d made it to the edge of the clearing without setting off the herd, he took a deep breath and bolted from the cover.

The doe saw him and immediately raised her head and tail, shooting off sideways toward the middle of the herd, the fawn close on her heels, not quite sure what he was running from..

As the rest of the herd caught onto the danger, some froze before registering him. Most of them had probably never been hunted by a wolf. But the shock only paused their movement for an instant. Like a shot, they were off across the glen, leaping over the taller saplings.

He had kept his attention focused on his mark, and had been able to gain on the pair by taking an inside track when the herd wheeled left. The fawn was naturally slower, and Broc was able to nip at his heels, just for fun. But the doe proved too swift for him.

The deer were in full flight and Broc remained close enough to keep them on the run, but no longer got within striking distance. Now it was about endurance; keeping them just scared enough to stay on the move without running any of them ragged.

As they entered the more rugged terrain of the hills, he slowed his pace further, remaining within their sight at a steady trot, but not pressing much. The incline was harder on his shorter legs, he couldn’t leap and bound the way the deer could.

When he was satisfied with the distance he’d achieved, he slowed to a walk, and finally halted.

Panting as he watched them climb over a ridge and out of sight, he sat back on his haunches. A productive shift. This was the practical sort of exercise Broc preferred. Who needed a gym when you had the Highlands?

Unhurried, he walked back to the glen. The sun was just descending below the ridgeline when he returned to the camouflage patrol hut where his clothing had been stowed.

Shifting and changing back into his work uniform, Broc was looking forward to dinner. Grabbing his radio he pressed the call button and reported to his boss.

“Broc to Graham.”

“Go ahead Broc.”

“Chased off a herd of red deer in my patrol area, about 15 in number. I let them graze about 2 hours in the glen. Ran them off to the East and over the ridge. Based on the size and composition, I think it’s the same herd Ian told me about last week.”

“Copy, note it in the log. Definitely time to get the fencing crew over there before they get too comfortable. Your shift is nearly over, head on in.”

“Aye, will do.”

Broc placed the radio on the charger and removed the clip from his waistband. He recorded his notes about the herd; number, ratio of males to females, approximate ages and the general health of the animals. He included the direction he had driven them and how far. Signing off his summary, he clicked off the lamp, grabbed the Munro keys and locked up.

His phone began pinging as he reached civilization again. A few texts from friends gathering for a drink at the pub. One from his Ma, probably asking if he’d be home for Sunday dinner. And one from Kieran.

Anticipation thrumming, he clicked the latter. But the text wasn't what he'd hoped for.

-Still no word from America. How about you?-

Using voice to text, Broc responded.

-Naw. Only been 2 weeks though-

-You’re right. Feel like I’m just faffin’about tho till word comes through-

-Aye. Just gotta be patient tho. Maybe Monday-

-Right-

Broc pulled the Munro into the lot at the admin building. The place was mostly empty; staff had left for the evening, and the guards were just waiting on the last few patrol members to work their way in from the outer reaches of the reserve.

Returning the keys to their hook in the cabinet, he grabbed his own set and punched out for the evening.

During the drive home, his thoughts drifted again to Yellowstone. He’d already made so many loose plans, everything was hanging in limbo.

They had to take him.

They were the ones who’d sent out ambassadors, and he and the boys were bound to be ideal candidates.

Somehow, he just knew Yellowstone was the key to learning how to reintroduce wolves to Scotland. He needed to immerse himself in their operation, learn from their Alphas, gain whatever experience he could for the uphill battle here at home.

Yellowstone was an essential trip, he just knew it.