preferred their
fur.
“His father died a few years back,” Sam continued, pulling
me from my own thoughts. “Clay’s been on his own ever since, still choosing to
live in is fur more than his skin. He’s quiet and has never been trouble. He
comes when an Elder calls for him, but still claims no pack as his own. So, by
pack law, he’s considered Forlorn.”
Forlorn. I closed my eyes tiredly, recalling my werewolf
history.
Prior to Charlene, the decimated numbers had only supported one
main pack in Canada and a few packs overseas. After nearly twenty years, the
Canadian pack had grown to the point of branching.
Because of the still low numbers, and the dangers of
discovery, joining a pack ensured an individual’s safety and continuity for the
pack. Some, like Clay, stubbornly remained reclusive. The majority of those who
stayed solitary did so because they disagreed with the changes Charlene helped
establish. Many felt the superiority of the pack entitled them to an elitist
isolation from humanity and the world.
By staying on his own, Clay had effectively stated his
opinion on the pack’s reentry into human society. However, Sam’s comment about
never being trouble meant Clay had not yet actually sided with the other
opinionated Forlorn.
In addition to pack politics regarding humanity, the Elders
had discovered some of the Forlorn could ignore a command from an Elder. Elders
acted as the lawmakers and enforcers for all werewolves while the pack leader enforced
the rules for the pack, settling disputes. Elders and pack leaders worked hand
in hand to keep the pack healthy and growing.
According to Sam, a werewolf could not break their society
laws. Once an Elder declared a law, it became an ingrained piece of the
werewolf. Sam had compared it to a hypnotist. The werewolves heard the law,
could contemplate it, have opinions about it, but followed the law regardless
of their thoughts and feelings. Most laws made sense and werewolves didn’t try
to fight them, but even when a werewolf disagreed with a law, they had no
choice other than to obey it.
Pack leaders had a similar effect on their pack members. When
they spoke, they forced submission through the pack’s mental connection, often
painful to any attempting to resist.
Forlorn, not having a link to a pack, still had the link to
the Elders. A link all werewolves shared. Though a pack leader did not control
them, the base society rules laid down by the Elders still bound them. At
least, no one had proven otherwise. However, I overheard Sam speaking with
another Elder about several instances where a Forlorn had ignored certain aspects
of their laws, which made the relationship between pack and Forlorn even more
strained.
“He was here last night to help keep the peace. He didn’t
come to be introduced to you.”
At least that explained his presence by the door and not in
the line with the rest of them. My conspiracy theory that Sam set me up
shriveled.
Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “There are two
things I can promise you. Though he is technically Forlorn, he’s always chosen
to follow pack law. He has no issue with humans. With him, you are safe. His
control over the change is unusually strong.”
When over stimulated, the change can burst upon a werewolf
with less than adequate control. Sam had drilled that into me when I first
started hanging out with Paul and Henry unsupervised. He didn’t want me to
freak out if one of them went wolf on me for no reason. He’d stressed that
whether in their fur or in their skin, they had the same intelligence and
instinct. The change was just a defense mechanism because in their fur, they
had teeth and claws to fight with. So, saying Clay had control meant he kept
his emotions in check.
“And he won’t give up,” Sam added.
Clay hadn’t been looking for a mate like most werewolves did
once they reach puberty. Did that give me any