"We are Pack, Socren. Why don't you understand?" A small, blonde boy boy with bright blue eyes trotted to keep up with a dark-haired boy with hazel eyes. The dark-haired boy, Joclar, was trying to impress upon his younger brother the importance of the life they lived.

"Of course we are Pack. We are littermates, Brother. That is one of the closest parts of Pack there is. What do I not understand?"

"Not just us. Everyone."

The blonde boy stopped short, eyes narrowed.

"Even Atros?"

"Especially Atros."

"But he hates me!"

"Father hates you. All he can do is follow along."

"Right." The scrawny blonde sneered. "He wants me dead, Joclar. I see it even if you don't. I bet he'd be so ecstatic he'd dance on my grave. He wouldn't even bother to fake a proper howl he'd be so happy."

"If you keep that attitude, no one will howl for you. Least of all Atros." The younger of the two hissed in shock and froze, despite his brother's intentions. The Alpha's wife, Watren, had no love for any child not her own, and Socren was a Runt to boot. The assembly horn broke through his thoughts.

"The Feast begins soon. You two will sit next to Atros when the time comes." The woman ordered. Joclar nodded, but Socren spluttered.

"But... I can't-." The Alpha Female's expression darkened, and she brought Socren to her level with a tug under his arms.

"Do you challenge me, boy?!" She hissed, obviously struggling. He could hear the slight pant in her voice, and it brought him great joy. He dared not to show it, though, keeping his face solemn.

"Of course not, Lady Watren. I shall do as you say."

"You better." She growled, dropping him with a huff and stalking toward the ceremonial table. They followed shortly after, Joclar hissing insults in his ear.

"You do not go against the Alpha's Female, no matter what you believe to be right! Zalcre will surely have your head!"

"Let him." Socren sneered. "It's not like he hasn't wanted me gone from the start."

Joclar couldn't respond as they took their seats, but shot him one last glare as they sat on either side of their older brother. Atros was still, watching the proceedings with the eyes of a statue and only moving to greet his younger brothers.

"That was not wise." He murmured, when Socren brushed against him to sit down.

"I care not what you think." The sickly boy scoffed, a hint of a wheeze in his voice.

"I-."

"Should pay attention." Socren offered, motioning to their father's waiting gaze. Atros nodded and got to his feet.

"Whatever happens, we'll always be brothers."

That was no comfort to the younger blonde.

"People of the Pack, of the Community, as you know, I cannot remain Alpha forever. My firstborn had returned from the trials all future leaders must face, those of strength and intelligence, and I am proud to say that he has passed with flying colors. As such, it is Atros who will take my place as head of the Pack and leader of the Community."

Zalcre stepped aside and the young man in his wake faced the cheers of the people.

"All hail Atros, long may he reign! All hail Atros, long may he reign!"

"Steve?!" He jerked awake at the sound of his name and nodded to the woman who sat a seat away. The car was halfway to the testing site, he realized with a jolt, and Peggy was staring at him.

"Fine." He snorted, recalling her words. The most beautiful woman on the planet and she, like everyone else, was more concerned that he wouldn't make it to the procedure, much less through it. He began to recount his many adventures with a dark humor, scorn flashing through his gaze. No one ever challenged his brothers. He saw no pity in her eyes, though. He didn't know what the look was.

"You don't give up easily, do you?" She muttered.

"You run away and they'll keep after you. It never ends well, that way. Fight back, stand your ground, you have at least half a chance. That's all I'll ever need."

The young man had won many a fight that way, but for every victory, defeat was imminent.