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The world subscribed to the ridiculous notion that bigger was better; both cubs would have to contend with that sooner or later. For Lucas, who was undeniably big in more than one way for a pup and would stay that way as an adolescent and adult, was destined to struggle less to prove his physical capabilities than Wyatt, even though he had no proclivity for physicality. That was just the way of things. Opposing wolves were more likely to challenge a smaller, skinnier wolf than one that looked more threatening, whether or not it was the right choice.

But here in the den, with Lucas scooting away to give himself a little space from his crocodile of a brother, they proved the opposite—the biggest of the litter was certainly the biggest sook, the most likely to roll over and flash his belly to avoid a fight, and the smallest—or at least the skinniest, blessed as he was with Reek's unfortunate genes—was the fiercest so far. Lucas swung around to face his sibling and made an appeasing noise in his throat when he was met with nothing but a glare—why? his pinched eyes seemed to ask.