Birth defects were rare in wolves, but once in a blue moon, they happened. She paid it no attention whatsoever. She never let it stop her from anything. And if you were thinking you should show her pity for it, boy, would you be making a big mistake. Given the right circumstance, my mother could be quite frightening. Despite that, I loved her as much as it was possible for a teenage wolf to love their mother. Because of that, I didn’t answer back. I hardly ever answered her back. I wasn’t the only one. Most of the pack picked up on her steeliness, too. My father definitely did. He sensed it in a very big way. My parents were both betas so their designation was equal, but let’s just say the way things were on paper and the way they were in reality were two very different things.

I stumbled out of bed, grumbling as I pulled on a pair of jeans. I struggled in vain to close the fly.

“God,” my mother said, “you’ve grown out of that pair too.”

It was true. It seemed that the only ever-loving thing that had happened that awful summer was my endless growth spurt. Truth be told, I was losing my patience with that, too. I’d grown so much I no longer fit into the hand-me-downs from Jules that had been my wardrobe staple all my life. My mother had already been down to Walmart once that summer to buy new clothes and I felt bad about how much she’d had to spend on me. It wasn’t just that it was a nuisance growing out of clothes. I’d had it up to my eyeballs hearing how much I’d grown from the adults.

“Aw, Christ, Sully boy. I reckon you grew a quarter of an inch overnight,” my father said every morning. And I do mean every morning. He laughed when he said it, which is why it irritated me so much. It wasn’t funny when he said it in June, and it sure as hell wasn’t funny when he said it in the middle of August.

“Ye gods, what are they feeding you, boy?” the omegas caterwauled as I walked past the pack house.

“That’s the way, Sully. Good man. Off with you. Wolves grow big in the woods,” said The Brothers, Kevin, Keith, or Llewellyn. Every day they seem to alternate who got a turn to say it, which only heightened my annoyance.

“That’s the future of our pack right there, boys,” said Marty.

“A strapping future, by the look of him,” agreed Doug.

“Hope you can handle the pressure, Sully boy,” said Marty. “It’s all on you now.”

“It isn’t,” I snapped. “It’s on Jules, too.”

“Sure, sure. Provided he comes back, the pressure is on Jules, too.”

“He’ll come back!” I cried. “’Course he’ll come back!”

He has to.