Everett leans heavily on the windowsill looking at the bright circle in the sky. The glow seems soft at first glance, but the longer he stares at it the harsher the light is on his eyes. Was his pup up there, running among the stars? Was Redaliya there in Lua Lupa's embrace, watching him and taking care of Eli.

Everett could feel Exenna's approach. She was travelling closer, yet would probably stop for the night and arrive in the morning. Exanna's smart but not above calling for help if it became needed.

So many moon cycles had passed with grief and joy. Everett loves his family, yet in times of reminiscing the nostalgia of the time when he was a pup travelling with Redaliya always snuck in. She had had such a profound effect on his younger days. The letter that explained her reasons for leaving was well worn and treasured.

Patting his pocket, he feels for the old and worn parchment. Pulling it out, he inspects the words. They are elegantly crafted, flowing across the pages in a well-practiced manner—a symbol of ranking.

One memory troubled him from his time with his guardian. A day where only as an adult could he understand why it happened. One day as Everett and Redaliya were walking back to their makeshift shelter they had heard some screams and a voice yelling curses at an Omega. Red had done nothing... When Everett had asked, she never answered. Now, Everett knew that it was what she was taught. The small signs of her upbringing were everywhere.

Rubbing the side of his head with a hand, he sighs. Omegas are badly treated, a thing to be glad that the healing packs—major or minor—do not have.

Tracing one of the lines, he wonders whether Nya'dein is alive or not. Red's letter had included a few things on her sister, hoping that Everett would get to meet her. Though he never saw her and after a while figured he would never meet the one member Redaliya seemed to think well of. Exenna had offered to see if she could catch any wind of a female called Nya'dein, but Everett had turned down the offer figuring it was her choice.

Everett turned to the window, looking out into the dark. Murmuring to himself, "I'm happy Redaliya. Thank you for taking me that day. Iket and Litae were great to me. And now I have a lovely family with my mate, and grandpups too.

***

My travelling cloak is heavy on my shoulders. My mind wanders to what once was and I have to constantly check myself to make sure I am not spiralling too far down into a state of memories.

It's already night and Lily and I have had to put in a conscious effort in working as a team, we'll have to stop soon. My vision flickers as we are losing focus and a headache starts to worm its way in. Just a little longer, a Ne'mains should be around here somewhere. I'd be able to hunt in the day, however, with my connection to Lily being so shaky it would be useful to have others around. Even if they aren't trying to help, just be being in a group and our scents all mingling can dissuade many a potential threat.

I might even be able to squeeze out some more information about this brewing war. It doesn't seem too widely spread, however going between the healing packs has done me no favours in that regard.

Bolstering my reserve, I bring myself into the present, keeping an open mental connection to Lily as we walk. The forest is dark, but as I keep moving the tree branches open up, small leaf buds yet to open. It is a clear night, with a few swirling clouds, but the dark blue entrances me. It's so dark, the depths pulls me in as the white stars twinkling brilliantly.

The crackling of fire is the first thing I hear and then a quiet chatter of voices. The light from the flames flicker around the circle, illuminating the figures sitting around it. I approach them upwind as not to startle them—the last thing I want is to be mistaken as a threat. There are subtle, but noticeable lines, groupings of shifters sticking together. Ne'mains can be great, an unsaid temporary peace, however, bring trouble and nothing good will ever come. Though this unsaid order is in place, not everyone cares for it and that is why one must always be on guard.

I make a note of how many others are here; there is an unusually large number, maybe twenty. Most camps don't even get up to fifteen shifters unless an arranged trading event comes up or a big group is travelling and neither seems to be happening.

The area is a normal Ne'mains set up simplistically. A big fire in the center, with some logs and rocks placed around at different angles and distances as seats. Along the edges, closer to the thickets and denser tree areas shifters set up with their groups.

Approaching the center, I know they can sense me by how to shift ever so slightly to glance at who is coming. I keep my head up, eyes wandering, they cannot sense anything to take advantage of. Weakness among others is not tolerated, especially if they are strangers.

There is one other female by the fire, but she is in her fur. It's a smart move, if I were her I'd also choose by fur over skin in this situation. Teeth and claws make good weapons, even when it's only instinctual. Her eyes are sharp, and the way she sits shows promise. Lone wolves have to be strong, even in small groups.

Perching on a rock, as soon as I am still the murmurs die down. Most had mindlinks going—I watch their eyes come back into focus or at least partially.

"Are you a trader?" One of the males ventures. It's uncommon to see females away from a pack if they are it is normally as a trader, though I am alone. It is unusual, but so am I.

"No, I am just travelling." I force my hands to be still, one holding an edge of my cloak while the other flattens against the side of my bag.

"You don't have anyone travelling with you?" The male speaking to me tastes the air as if he could catch another's scent, trying to pick up an indication of travelling with others.

"I am going to see some family." The best way to be elusive is to give them partial truths. Don't lie, stories are hard to keep up, but vagueness is a basic language tactic one learns very early on.

As I look at all these shifters, they all have these subtle shifts to their movements whether it is the way their eyes scan the area. They are always on guard, always ready for a fight. You can't survive without fighting in one way or another for survival; the right to exist. It's hard to live in this world, where tooth and claw reign supreme. Packs may follow a hierarchy that all know, but the forests are constantly changing, fighting for everything is how we survive long enough to travel.

"Traveling alone?" One of them says and I notice the small movements of the others taking in my scent. Though there is an undertone of shifters, it would mainly be of the forest at this point.

"No one is ever truly alone." Looking around I find myself drawn in by the fact that so many seem to belong here. None seem uncomfortable like pack wolves tend to be when surrounded by potential enemies, but rather a calculating gaze is something they each hold. A thin veil of trust, with dark shades of apprehension behind. "Why are you here, if I can ask."

Don't ask questions, Opalescence. My mother's voice instantly appears to scold me. It was better to be told off by her than my father or another pack member. It's a risky move. Ask the wrong questions and claws could be out in an instance. Ask the right ones and information is revealed.

Maybe I asked because more than ever, I want to know their stories, learn of their lives before mine is ended. Or perhaps it was because no one ever asked me what my tale was, how I got to this point.

"I was born a solus, my parents weren't part of a pack, and I prefer the freedom."

The path one's parents take can cause a great impact. The choices they make before you are born and their decisions after. A ripple effect is created, one that can run through the coming generations, or can halt and a new wave can be made to be passed on.

Shifters start to gather around the fire, their cautious eyes finding a strange sort of comfort in the similar body language shared by all here.

Another speaks up, his tone bland, yet all of us listen with interest. "I left because there was an attack on my pack. Only a small group of us survive." Taking a sip of water, he tacks onto the end, "Heading to meet them in a few days."

I'm not sure if the information is a warning or not, but it doesn't matter to me. No, I'm not foolish enough to try and attack a shifter with more experience, more strength when it comes to fighting. What would be the point anyways?

Their chatter continues, yet my thoughts moved in the direction of Nya'dein. Our mother was harsh because she had to be. Nya'dein showed me how to survive it, but if she were here what would she really do? Teach skills like she always wanted? Trade goods or run free as a wolf? When was the last time we had shifted together?

Throwing a small twig into the fire it crackles, and just as that sound is lost in the background, so too is the memory of our wolves meeting.

"What truly makes someone an omega or an alpha?" a female questions, two males—one who I would guess to be her twin brother and the other her mate—glace up sharply at the rest of us. They must have only left their pack recently, it is clear they are not of a pack, but they don't have the disguised ease the others here have mastered. The silence is palpable, thick with concentration and thinking. Just as my mother's voice always echoes with the rules of the pack, do they face this as well? An omega is the lowest of the pack, the weakest. They are nothing. Do not concern yourself with them, Opalescence.

"Alphas are born... but what is a true omega," one muses, voicing his thoughts for the rest of us to hear. Biting my lip, my mother's voice keeps ringing, "Don't bother with Omegas. Head up, don't look down. You are more than that."

The females once again draws the attention to her. "An omega is what an Alpha makes it."

Each pack functions similarly, but no leader is the same, no members are the same. Omegas. I rub my hands together, the small flakes of dirt falling away. It hurts my head to think about it too much.

"What would happen if there we no omegas?"

A brown-haired shifter replies, "Do you really think shifters would let that happen?"

The others nod in agreement, the packs like their ranks. Shifters like the structure. The hierarchy was made for a reason, ingrained into our nature, it gives us order within this chaotic world.

The laws of the pack. The laws of the wild. The way of shifters.

We like to know where we stand, what we are meant to do. We live off of instinct but finding a purpose is something we look for.

I must be crazy to think of this as peaceful. This group chatter, with no real order to it. No one shifter leads, we all wait for a break before speaking. It's different. A nice sort of chance, instead of putting precedence based on rank and gender.

"What would a world be without ranks? Everything around us uses it in a way," I say, motioning to the forest. Critters scramble up the trees, birds building nests, and the green leaves sprouting to create a canopy as the branches reach for the sky. It is so alive with life, but the price of living is with the sacrifice of other things. The hunter and the hunted, the prey and the predator, the eater and the eaten.

"There is a reason for it. And that's because it works. That's why we keep it, isn't it? If it didn't work, then something would have changed. But the Alphas see how the hierarchy keeps order." The brown-haired shifter points out these facts, and I can't help but feel conflicted.

The darkness descends fully, but we all keep feeding the fire, letting it illuminate the area in a ring of orange. I catch the flashing of eyes when the light catches a shifters' eye.

I pull Lily forward and my vision blurs, clearing to give me a sharper image. The outline of things more defined, and in exchange the world is duller with less distinction between shades. The trees around us help contain the light, while also creating a cover, only letting slips of moonlight in.

It makes my blood hum, calling for me to answer, yet also calms the pull that urges me in the direction of my end.