Lost Creek Hollow I Am the Once, Now Irreplaceable Son

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'Get out and stay out until you get your head out of your ass.'

He huffed as the words replayed in his head, over and over. They played on repeat. Had been playing on repeat in the back of his mind over the past few days and weeks. The mocking words of the hag he unfortunately knew as only his mother.

“Whatever.” He huffed to himself, his brow furrowed and his steps loud, stomping.

Leaves and ice alike crunched underfoot, gave way to his angry, lashing pacing.

She needed him. The pack needed him.

And sooner or later, they would see. She would come slinking out of the woods and ask what the fuck he was doing, shouldn’t he have been patrolling? Or maybe she would send his dad. The bastard never knew how to say no to her, and usually did whatever she wanted him to do. Like find him and talk to him, like some good old father-son bonding would fix whatever fuck up had happened.

“Fucking bullshit.” Just who the fuck did she think she was? She was delusional, to treat him like that. He was the pack’s heir. The water in a flowing stream, cutting through mountain and washing over the pebbles underneath. And speaking of pebbles—

Someone was nearby.

His hackles bristled.

“The fuck are you looking at?” He sneered, his chin jutted forward and up, and his upper lip curled back, exposing bared white teeth.