This is one of the stories I grew up with my Mom telling me about my Dad.
My Dad was the pack's storyteller. Every time there was a pack gathering, if there was the time, he'd be asked to tell everyone a story. From what Mom has said, his stories were usually at least entertaining, if not educational is some way or another.
There's one story in particular that stands out in my Mom's mind - The first time she remembers my Dad telling it was on an evening in the early fall the year before I was born. The leaves were just starting to turn colors on the trees and bushes. The pack had taken care of all the business they needed to in their meeting, so Winston smiled, looked to my Dad, and asked him "George, would you please tell us a story?"
He nodded to Winston. "It would be my honor, sir, as always. Just let me think a moment, please..." He sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts, as he always did before telling a story. Then his look brightened. He brought his head up, squared his shoulders, and began the tale:
"Once, long ago, there was a pack-leader named Marcus who was growing tired of the stresses and strains of leadership. After many years of leading the pack, he was feeling as though it was time for him to step down.
"The problem was that Marcus had never found a mate, and so had no pups to take over when he wanted to step down. No one below him would accept any of the others as leader. All that would lead to was fighting, with no clear leader, even if there were a winner. The others, those who survived the fighting, anyway, would never accept anyone else as leader. It seemed as though the pack was doomed to fall apart if Marcus ever stepped down or simply died of old age.
"Then, seemingly from nowhere, a young adult stranger named Rangell appeared in the pack's territory. Suspicious as they normally were of outsiders, Rangell seemed to have something that made him instantly trusted.
"He was brought to meet with Marcus, and was greeted and accepted into the pack as an Alpha. Marcus accepted him as if he were a son and proceeded to train him in the ways of the pack. Rangell was a superb hunter and hunt-leader, and all the eligible females of the pack almost fought each other for the honor of attending the Moonlight Howl with him.
"A year passed, in which time Rangell had found his life-mate, and that spring, they had two pups - one male, one female. Both turned out to be Alpha material. The future of the pack seemed assured. Marcus had an heir that everyone would accept, and the heir had pups to continue the leadership after he was ready to step down, many years in the future.
"Then, the unthinkable happened - Marcus was killed in a caribou stampede, and Rangell was seriously injured. With Marcus gone, leadership went to Rangell, but injured as he was, he was unable to lead. Fighting began to break out between the rest of the males of the pack over who would lead. It seemed like the pack would tear itself apart. When things seemed to be at their darkest, who should appear but Marcus!
"But wait! Wasn't he dead? They had seen his battered, crushed body after the stampede had cleared. They had a requiem howl for him and buried his body in the valley. But there he was. After the shock wore off, everyone except Rangell, who was too badly injured to move on his own, gathered around Marcus, greeting him. But something seemed strange about him - a sense of 'otherness', for lack of a better word. It seemed as if he had somehow changed, healing and even becoming younger!
"They asked him what had happened, but he just shook his head, saying 'I honestly don't know . . . One moment, I saw the caribou herd bearing down on me, the next I woke up, buried. I fought and dug my way out, and made my way here. I heard the commotion, and here I am.' No one knew what to think of that.
"Marcus went over to Rangell, seeing the extent of his injuries. 'Somehow, I know I can help you, son.' He reached out a forepaw and touched it to Rangell's head, holding it there as he closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Rangell's injuries healed before everyone's unbelieving eyes. In moments, he was fully healed. Marcus took his paw from Rangell's head and smiled. 'There you are. All better.'
"Then, Marcus suddenly fell. He looked old and tired again. It seemed he had taken away Rangell's injuries, but had taken them upon himself, instead. Rangell jumped up and went to Marcus, laying down by his side, beginning to cry for the wolf he'd accepted as his mentor, his leader, his father. 'No, Marcus . . . I can't accept this!' Rangell reached out with his own forepaw and put it on Marcus' head, trying to give back what he'd been given. 'Oh, Rangell . . .' Marcus sighed, 'Can't you see? I was given a gift to bring to you. To the pack. One final gift. The gift of Life for our new leader. I have to go now, but know I'll be looking after you . . .' His eyes closed for the final time.
"Again, his body was taken to the burial place in the valley. Again, a requiem howl was held for him. Again, he was buried. This time, everyone knew he'd never return.
"Rangell led the pack for many years after that, and they were the most prosperous years the pack had ever known. It seems Marcus was, indeed looking after them from wherever he was. The pack-leader who had given his all to ensure his pack's survival."
When my Dad had finished the story, everyone barked and howled their approval. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, wagging his tail as he gratefully accepted their appreciation.
Eve smiled and nodded to him, her tail wagging. "What a wonderful story, George! I just hope that any pups Jeena and you have inherit your storytelling skills."
He smiled, looked at her, and said "I hope so, too, Eve. And thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed my little entertainment this evening."
Winston came up to my Dad, wagged his tail, grinned, and put his forepaw on my Dad's shoulder. "That was a particularly good story, George. Where do you get them, if I might ask? I have a few of my own, of course, but yours seem to be unique." His blue eyes shone in the light of the setting sun.
Dad wagged his tail and grinned back at Winston. "That's the funny thing, Winston - I don't know where my stories come from. They just come to me." He shook his head, but continued to grin. "I'm just grateful to whoever or whatever gives them to me."
"We are, too, George. You always entertain us. You're the perfect Omega."
"Thank you, Winston. I appreciate that. I try my best to do my duty for our pack."
Winston chuckled as he took his paw off Dad's shoulder. "Well, you do a very good job."
To everyone else, he called out "All right, everyone! Time to break this meeting up and get to our dens for the night. Good night, all!"
Everyone called out their "Good nights" and headed back to their dens, my Mom and Dad included.