7 Years Ago: "Honey, pack your things." That simple four-word phrase had my heart palpitating as frantic thoughts raced across my mind. I couldn't be moving! All of my friends were here, in Serenwood!. My pack was here in Serenwood. My mother smiled reassuringly at me, sensing my fear with her super-mom senses. As mother of five kids, not including my dad, who was a child at heart, she needed those abilities to raise her large family without going insane. "Don't worry, silly girl! We're not moving out of the pack house; we're just moving to the top floor." Shock and curiosity replaced the fear in system as I thought of the forbidden top floor, where the Alpha and Beta lived. No common pack wolf was allowed to even glance inside that hallway, unless they had express permission from the Alpha. I have it on good authority that the Beta keeps a secret stash of Snickers in his bedroom; my best friend, Lexi, who heard from her science partner, Dylan, who heard from Jonathan (he walks the Beta's dog),who heard from Simon, the Beta's brother's best friend, who heard from Damien, the Beta's younger brother. If I moved to the top floor, that stash of Snickers would be as easy to get as stealing candy from a baby. "Mom, why are moving to the top floor?" I asked, curiosity seeping into my tone. My mom turned her gleaming blue eyes on me, her dark blonde hair covering them slightly as her expression flitted from amusement to slight unease and then to a blank, closed-off expression, similar to the one she would portray when she was disappointed in me. I absolutely hated that expression. "It's Alpha's orders." Another question burned on the tip of my tongue, as I switch... ... middle of paper ... ...ff embrace, feeding on his comfort. Finally, Alpha gently pried me off his person, handling me like a delicate flower that would wilt if not treated with the utmost adoration. "You're welcome, Rosalind. But please call me Alcander." I looked up at Alpha, surprised that he gave me permission to call him by his first name. Not only did he give me permission, but he asked me to call him Alcander! "Okay Alph- Alcander. I will call you by your first name, but only if you call me Rose." Alpha nodded solemnly. I grinned up at him and held out my pinky. He stared at it quizzically, causing me to roll my eyes. Old people these days. "Pinky promise, Alp-Alcander!" Alpha, I mean Alcander, rolled his eyes also, but bent down to my level and wrapped his pinky around mine. There in my new bedroom on a warm summer day began a great friendship between a child and a teenager.
betas are subordinate wolves that help the alpha in decisionmaking or other pack activities. The beta wolf can be either
I look at my mom and shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t know, I think she was talking to her friend about a party or something.”
\item The deltas need to submit alphas and betas, yet they rule the omega. Scouts, sentinels, elders, hunters, and caretakers have a place with this class.
Mama, who is telling the story, changes her tone throughout the story. Mama's tone is self-confidant and proud until Dee comes. Mama then becomes defensive and sarcastic, when dealing with Dee. Mama is defending her home, culture, and Maggie. She is unappreciative of Dee’s arrogant attitude, and her lack of understanding how important Mama’s sacred pieces are.
Alpha and beta have been thrown around since the early pickup artist (PUA) and game days so far as I can tell, but my first conception of the alpha-beta dichotomy came from Roissy/Heartiste. In the Chateau, alpha and beta function as social roles on a sliding scale
"Hello. You must be Augus," I said and held my hand out for him to shake.
"It was nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs....." I trail off to make it seem like I didn't already know their names.
"This is Póilín, he's a Belgian Malinois." Tom introduced. I smiled the name meant officer, seemed kind of fitting with the way the dog had followed orders.
“Stay close to me, ok?” my mom warned as I hesitantly followed my family as we descended the stairs towards the subway. This was a new experience for me, the only subway I had ever been in was the sandwich shop. I was already overwhelmed by the noises and smells. The smell was like a full soccer team had just won their championship and were piled into their mom’s vans to go for ice cream, the noise as if a thousand babies screamed at once. My heart felt like it was racing in my chest as I flicked my fingers against my leg. The environment made me extremely nervous. My mother, noticing this, stopped and attempted to reassure me, adjusting her firm grip on my sweaty hand. As my family and I weaved our way through the giant masses of
“By the way what is your name mine is Jimmy. Most people call me jim,” I exclaimed
“Emeline is your name, do you prefer to be called something else?” Brennon asked and what used to be me peered at him with an alien intensity that even made me wince now to watch but seemed not to perturb Bren.
The mom, already expecting these questions (because they were once some of her own) had answers prepared but since it was getting late she said, “Now kids, those are stories I’ll share another night” as she was walking out the door.
It was the second semester of fourth grade year. My parents had recently bought a new house in a nice quite neighborhood. I was ecstatic I always wanted to move to a new house. I was tired of my old home since I had already explored every corner, nook, and cranny. The moment I realized I would have to leave my old friends behind was one of the most devastating moments of my life. I didn’t want to switch schools and make new friends. Yet at the same time was an interesting new experience.
He fumbled over his words, awkwardly backing out of the room, unsure of how to approach his own daughter and not having much experience in doing so anyway. Of course, in a family of 4, news travels faster that light and within two minutes, my mother was at my door and did not even bother to knock. She never does. “Your father says you are crying. What is wrong?” When I didn’t respond, she shifted her weight to her right foot and placed her hands on her hip. “Fine. Don 't tell me. But you are going downstairs to have lunch. I will not let you hide up here in your room.” She pivoted on the balls of her feet and left the room swiftly, but stopped a few feet from my door to make sure I was following her. I numbly found my way off my bed, not having much other choice. My mother has this commanding tone to her voice that is just a part of her natural inflection, but that scares me to a point of obedience more often than not. I followed her downstairs, ate, and when I was finished I watched as my mother and father both walked into my father’s home office, my mother turning around to give me a pointed look that said “Get in here,