Chapter 4 Poppy #2
He slumped onto his haunches and wagged his tail. We sat together and gazed out across the snowy field, feeling the wind in our fur and taking in the beautiful view. The wide-open space felt freeing compared to the crowded barracks and tight education rooms at the clan camp.
A small, secret part of me wished we never had to go back. But this was our life. We didn’t know anything else. And like Konrad always said, the outside world was dangerous. A pair of young wolf shifters wouldn’t last on our own. We needed the clan alphas to protect us.
“What’cha thinking about?” Sorrel asked.
I smiled at him. “How I beat you in the race.”
He growled playfully. “I’m gonna win next time!”
“Maybe if you try really hard. And stop stumbling over your paws,” I teased.
Sorrel pouted, raising one of his giant paws. “I can’t help that they’re so big.”
He was only two years younger than me and he still had a young wolf’s face, but his body was growing fast. I figured it would only be a few months before he towered over his older brother.
Apparently, our omega father was a huge white wolf, one of the biggest the clan had ever seen. Sorrel must’ve taken after him.
“Besides, it’s a good thing, right?” Sorrel asked eagerly. “I have a better chance of being a child-bearer when I grow up.”
My stomach sank. It was the highest honor for an omega in our clan, but he was too young to be thinking about that.
“Focus on being a pup,” I said, pawing him over the ear. “You’ll have plenty of time for that when you’re an adult.”
Sorrel huffed. “But it’s the best thing an omega can do! I don’t wanna be useless.”
The fur on my shoulders bristled with unease.
I couldn’t argue with him because he wasn’t wrong.
Child-bearing omegas were handpicked by the clan alpha, and had special privileges.
They got to sleep in nicer rooms, ate better food, and were treated better overall.
Not as well as the alphas themselves, but well above the omegas stuck doing basic chores.
Still, I couldn’t shake the discomfort that came from Sorrel’s excitement. I didn’t want him to think that was his only purpose in life.
“You will never be useless, Sorrel,” I said gently. “Because you’re my little brother.”
He gave me a shy smile before breaking into a laugh. “That’s so sappy!”
“It’s true!” I insisted.
Chuckling, he got to his paws and flicked me with his tail. “C’mon, let’s race again. I’ll beat you to that rock down there, I swear.”
Changing the topic was a relief. I got to my paws and nodded. Sorrel barrelled down the slope, racing for the conspicuous rock in the middle of the field.
I followed him at a steady pace, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. It sat in my stomach like a stone.
Overhead, a white blur of movement caught my eye. I raised my muzzle to see a snowy owl flying silently above us. It glided effortlessly through the air on smooth, elegant wings.
My chest ached. If I could fly like that, I could be free, too.
I slowed to watch the owl. Its head angled sharply, as if hearing something out of range for my ears.
Suddenly, it folded its wings and dove with claws outstretched.
It hit the ground near the rock like lightning.
I heard a high-pitched squeak that cut off abruptly.
When the owl lifted its head, a mouse dangled from its beak.
Despite the mouse’s sacrifice, I felt happy for the owl. It was a large bird—likely a female with eggs on the way. She was doing what any good parent would do.
My chest stirred. I couldn’t put my paw on the feeling swirling inside me. Why did I feel so peaceful and happy thinking about the owl and her soon-to-be-chicks, yet such dread at the idea of Sorrel growing up to be a child-bearer for Konrad?
In front of me, Sorrel skidded to a halt, also awed by the sight. “Whoa,” he whispered as I caught up with him. “Did you see that, Poppy?”
“I did,” I said quietly. “It’s amazing.”
We watched, mesmerized as the mother owl secured her kill before preparing for takeoff. But soon my tranquility turned to apprehension. A chill rolled down my spine, and the fur on my shoulders lifted uncomfortably. It felt like we were being watched. Our little moment of peace was over.
I didn’t move, but flicked my ears back. Sure enough, I heard the familiar heavy thud of someone approaching. Before I turned around to confirm their identity, anxiety had already soaked my insides. Those heavy steps could only belong to a polar bear.
Unable to take the suspense, I glanced over my shoulder.
My anxiety quelled slightly. It was Rorik, another omega around my age.
He was a polar bear shifter, and the largest omega in the clan.
I’d mistaken his heavy approach as belonging to our clan alpha, Konrad.
Although I was relieved to see him instead, I wished Sorrel and I could’ve had a few more moments alone.
“Poppy,” Rorik greeted with a nod. “We’re far from camp. What are you two doing out here?”
“I got permission,” I said swiftly. “Konrad said it was okay.”
Rorik seemed surprised, but didn’t press further. He watched the owl for a couple seconds, then said, “He sent me to retrieve you. We should return soon.”
“I’ll go back,” I said, trying not to sound defeated. “I just want to sit here for another minute or two.”
Rorik grunted in affirmation. After a moment, he said, “That owl would make a good offering to Konrad.”
A rush of panic flowed through me. “She’s a mother,” I pointed out.
Rorik’s eyes widened, flashing with regret. He clearly didn’t know. “Ah. How can you tell?”
“She’s big. Female snowy owls are larger than males. She’s probably getting ready to lay eggs come spring.”
Rorik let out a small chuckle. “You are wise, wolf.”
His compliment soothed me. I relaxed, letting myself enjoy his company. Rorik was big and strong, but beneath his tough exterior, he had a kind heart.
“Offerings! That’s a good idea, Rorik. I’m gonna hunt for voles,” Sorrel exclaimed, bounding away to sniff at the ground nearby. He stayed close enough that I could keep an eye on him.
Rorik lowered his head to speak quietly in my ear. “It’s almost time for our duty assignments. Are you ready?”
The invisible weight on my shoulders grew heavier. I couldn’t escape this topic—or my fate.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Are you?”
“Yes. I assume I’ll be trained as a fighter. I’d be shocked if they assigned me anything else.”
My ears drooped. Rorik was so confident, ready to face any challenges in his path. Why couldn’t I be more like him? Why did I feel so nervous all the time?
“You’ll be a great fighter,” I murmured.
Rorik watched me, his small black eyes bright, then asked, “What concerns you?”
I sighed. I couldn’t reveal the full depth of my feelings, but an inkling was acceptable.
“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted.
But that wasn’t quite true. I wanted more.
I wanted something different than what the tundra clan offered.
The world was massive and scary, and the thought of stepping a paw outside my bounds terrified me, but it also inspired possibilities beyond my imagination.
What if there was something better out there?
That was too much to dump on Rorik, though. I doubted he’d understand my feelings—or worse, he might even tell the clan alphas about them, and they wouldn’t appreciate my curiosity.
“Everything will be all right,” Rorik said. “Don’t worry so much.”
Although I couldn’t take it to heart, I appreciated his attempt to comfort me. It made me feel slightly less alone.
“Thanks, Rorik,” I said. “I—”
“Poppy.”
Konrad’s voice sent a cold chill across my pelt.
I leapt to all four paws, spinning around to see him towering over us on the hill’s peak.
He was an absolutely massive polar bear.
Unlike Rorik, he had maturity on his side.
Konrad was filled out, all fat and muscle and raw strength, the most powerful creature in our clan.
“Y-yes, sir?” I said.
His black, beady eyes stared at me. They were hard and angry. But a second later, he chuckled. “I gave you an inch and you took a mile. You sure went out a long way from camp.”
Hot guilt prickled my skin. Had I done something wrong? I’d already received his explicit permission to explore. I wouldn’t dare leave the camp without it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing how to respond.
Konrad took his time as he loped down the hill. With every step, the anxiety swirling in my chest tightened. I didn’t know why, but it wouldn’t go away.
Rorik stood to greet him. Having a friend beside me was a minor comfort. I was glad not to be alone with our clan alpha.
Why do I feel like this? I didn’t used to be so nervous around him...
Konrad greeted Rorik with a glance and nothing more, then turned his focus on me. I tried to stand tall, but my body wanted to shrink beneath his gaze.
“Next time I might not be so lenient,” Konrad said casually, like I’d done something wrong. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”
My throat constricted. There was no pleading my case when Konrad had already decided I was the one at fault.
“We’ll come back now,” I promised.
“I know,” Konrad replied. He turned his boxy muzzle in Sorrel’s direction, his gaze hard and unyielding.
My stomach shifted. There was something disconcerting in Konrad’s eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.
As I mulled over my stormy thoughts, Sorrel bounded into view. A vole dangled by its tail between his teeth. He wagged his tail, thrusting his catch towards Konrad.
“Here! I caught this for you, sir,” Sorrel said.
Konrad gave him an approving look. “Good work, pup. But a vole is too small to feed a clan, isn’t it?”
Sorrel’s ears flicked back, disappointed. “Oh. Yes, you’re right.”
Eyes sharp, Konrad glanced up at the snowy owl still picking at her prey on the ground. She was occupied and didn’t seem to notice us.