“Your father’s name was Ohdin, your mother’s was Mahra,” said Phelan. He was a man…a werewolf of few words. He had the ability to speak well enough, but the formation of words seemed difficult, as if he hadn’t used that ability for a long time. He answered the pack’s questions as best he could, but he never offered any more than was asked of him. As a result, the pack had to draw information from him bit by bit.

“Where did they live?” asked Tora.

“Here,” Phelan said, gesturing the forest to his right. “There,” he said, gesturing to his left. Then he spread both arms wide. “Everywhere.”

“Were they good fighters?” Argus wanted to know.

A smile stretched over Phelan’s face. “Your father was alpha male. The most ferocious fighter in all the packs north of this place.” There was obvious pride in Phelan’s gruff voice, and perhaps a bit of sorrow in their passing.

Argus smiled as well. It made him feel good to know that he’d taken after his father in this very important way.

“Were they smart?” asked Harlan.

“Yes,” Phelan nodded. “Once, a ranger left behind his light here in the woods. Your father knew what it was, and how to make the light appear. He used it well until it died.”

Harlan looked confused. Here was Phelan telling them how smart their father was because he knew how to work a flashlight, something that didn’t take a genius to figure out. Harlan didn’t get it, but Noble understood just fine. Phelan was a werewolf, a beast, a creature of the wild. He was more wolf than man and he would always be that way. Having been raised by Ranger Brock and Phyllis had changed the pack, made them more human than wolf. Noble hated to use the word because it sounded as if it was a slight against Phelan and his kind, but the pack had become more civilized by living amongst humans, Phelan was like an ancestor to them, as if there were generations and generations between them rather than just one.

“What about our mother?” Tora asked.

“You remind me of her.” Phelan nodded. “She was sleek. Elegant. And she had the same stripe in her hair as you.”

Noble looked to the ground, beginning to feel uneasy about what Phelan was saying. It all seemed too good to be true. Their father was the smartest, fastest, toughest wolf in all the British Columbia forests, and their mother was the most beautiful, refined, blah, blah, blah…