Tuesday morning arrived more or less, as it always did, but unfortunately for the pack, there were a couple of minor exceptions. The first of them was seemingly minor; Florence's car was in the compound. This was unexpected, because no one had thought to see her this morning; everyone had assumed that she might be in later in the day. The pack had been rooting for her, wishing her the best on her date.
The second exception was as odd one, but nothing that was worrisome; Beth was actually in the hall for breakfast for a change. Everyone knew that this
rarely
happened. What with her job at the roadhouse and the required late nights there, not to mention her activities afterward, she usually didn't show up until at least lunchtime, and sometimes not even then.
So, if there was a worrisome exception, it was the fact that Beth was there for breakfast, and Florence was not. The pack needed its routine, and this was not the way that things usually happened. John and Beth were not saying anything; they were doing their level best to seem as though everything was fine. Not a word of worry had passed their lips, but this was only the mask they wore to reassure everyone, they had been sending to one another all morning long.
"Her car was parked with the rear wheels in the garden, Beth. I got up early and moved it before anyone else saw it, but eventually someone is going to notice that half of the pepper plants are gone."
"Have you seen her?"
"No, she wasn't in her cabin, and when I tried sending to her, all I got was a storm of emotions, none of them good. I couldn't break through it; I've never met a wolf who could block me."
"Looks like a disaster then. Whatever happened, it was so painful that she doesn't even hear her Alpha."
"She's alive at least, and I didn't smell any blood in her car, so she must be physically O.K., but from what I felt, I'm betting that she would prefer a physical injury to what she's going through... You don't think..." John said worriedly.
"I don't know John, Florence has never been like everyone else, but still... I don't know what else it could be that would cause
this
much distress."
John sighed and then said, "So which one of us should seek her out?"
"John, for once I think we should go together, let's be her parents and do this right for a change."
The Alpha was in the process of agreeing, when the door opened, causing the hall to fall into complete silence. Florence had walked into the hall, and while her make-up and lipstick had been reapplied, she was completely nude, her eyes showing that she was there with a purpose.
She spoke. "I, Florence Billington, formally challenge Tisquantum for the number three position in the Billington pack." Her challenge was perfectly made, and as it was proper, it could not be ignored. She then turned and walked out of the hall, clearly heading for the meadow where all challenges took place.
The hall exploded into chaos behind her. While challenges up and down the ranks were frequent, and generally even friendly, leadership challenges were
far
less common. There had not been a leadership challenge since the pack had arrived here back in 1815, and every wolf knew that in other packs, leadership challenges occasionally led to death.
All eyes in the hall swung between John and Tom, as dozens of shouted conversations started all at once. "What the Hell?" Tom said, "What difference does it make whether she is number four or number three? We share everything."
John replied sadly, "I think she's in pain Tom, maybe she just needs to fight an equal and work some of it out of her system."
"What do I do, Alpha? Do I go easy on her and let her win, or do I try to take her out?"
John looked to Beth, questioningly.
"Tom honey, I think she'll welcome the pain. Go ahead and kick her ass; just don't kill her."
"Mmph," Tom grunted sorrowfully, "I suppose that she is waiting; let's get this over with."
Breakfast forgotten, the entire pack followed Tom out of the building and out to the meadow. Not a word was spoken by any member of the pack; this was a solemn and honored occasion. All off-compound members were being contacted. Businesses would likely not open in Whiskey Town this day.
Florence stood in the middle of the meadow. She respectfully remained silent and motionless as Tom slowly removed his clothing and began preparing himself for battle. He stretched his muscles before looking at her and following the ritual, he asked, "Form?"
"Wolf," she replied, as was her right as challenger. Their ritual granted the right of selecting form to the challenger: human, wolf, or hybrid. Wolf was the most chosen, as it made for a more serious fight than as human, and was a less lethal form than hybrid. Human combat was rare, mostly taking place to settle drunken squabbles and bar bets between friends. Hybrid challenges were mostly to the death, as that form was the form of rogues and insanity.
Tom bowed deeply to Florence and she returned the gesture, both of them dropping their gazes into the ground, giving one another the respect and trust that neither would initiate combat until both were ready. Then they raised their heads, gazed into one another's eyes, shifted into their wolves and began, the pack silently watching.
Tom wasted no time, coming directly at Florence, attempting to use his superior strength and size to his advantage by bull-rushing her in an attempt to bludgeon her into submission. Florence had expected this type of attack and sat back, letting him come forward. She knew that with the possible exception of John, she was the quickest wolf in the pack. She had always possessed an unearthly sense of what her attackers were preparing to do. She wasn't clairvoyant exactly, but she seemed to process information faster than anyone else, always seeming to be a step ahead of her opponents.
Tom flew at her, claws and teeth exposed and ready to tear into her; wolves healed quickly, and there would be no mercy. Most any injury short of death or complete dismemberment would heal...eventually. No one was surprised at the viciousness of his attack.
Florence never wavered, nor did she move until the last possible split second, throwing her body into an airborne roll around Tom's blitzing attack. She neatly dodged him as he flew by her, his claws missing her spinning belly by a hairsbreadth. As he sailed past her, she spun again, and struck with blinding speed, slashing both of his left side legs, front and back. His skin sliced open neatly, spraying blood over the meadow. Her claws had cut through muscle and severed tendons, causing Tom to crash into the muddy meadow floor, unable to stand. Just as quick as it had started, it was over.
The pack was stunned. Few had thought that she'd win; none had imagined that she would completely destroy her opponent so quickly. Most of the warriors had not even seen her attack; Tristan, who had followed her movements, began to realize that he would
never
