"How can we be sure he's telling the truth?" came Timothy's question, a moment after Oscar had finished telling them about Alexander's warning.
"Well, it's not like he'll win anything by lying to us." said Marge.
"Yeah. So I say we give Quentin and his goons a little surprise." Mallory added, with a glint of cruel enjoyment in her eyes.
Oscar stood still, thinking about what to do next. He didn't have any connection to Alexander, so why would he help any of them? And on another note, how did he know about all this? Some other questions swirled in his head, but thinking about it, if Alexander indeed was right, Quentin would realise something was wrong and would cancel everything. And Oscar wasn't going to pass an occasion with which to drop Quentin's ass into trouble. He tried to be a good guy, but the ass had to pay due. So he cleared his throat and his friends all quieted down and turned his way.
"Ok, guys. Sven, Marge and Timothy, you go round on the right side. Make sure to stay well away if you see any of them. Colby and Mallory, you come with me. We'll meet at their back and jump."
They all knew what 'jump' meant, and it involved a lot more than just pouncing on the other wolves.
As they quietly made their way to circle around the area where Quentin and his gang were supposed to be, they confirmed Alexander's words. Quentin and seven of his followers were tucked behind some trees that lined Oscar and his crew usual route to the table area.
Oscar mind-called the rest *Ok, everyone. Three, two, one..... JUMP*
In less than a minute, Quentin was on his belly together with seven other unconscious werewolves. They all had, safely put in leather pouches so they wouldn't cut themselves by accident, about three or four shards of glass covered in wolfsdeath juice. They carefully took the pouches from their owners, but left them there.
It had been more than a week since Quentin's failed assassination attempt. They were now giving each other a very wide berth, not talking at all. Oscar hadn't told his father, the Alpha about the attack. It would have created a humongous scandal in the werewolf community, and if he could, he would avoid that. On another note, Alexander was back to himself. Every time he or any of his friends talked to him, he wouldn't say a word, preferring to ignore them completely in class, during lunch hour or any other time they met.
The winter hollyday had come and pass, and everything seemed to be back to normal with the beginning of the second school semester. Everything except for what happend little over a week after it started.
Oscar, Timothy, Marge, Mallory and Sven were all chatting happily during lunch hour, when the room fell in complete silence. They looked up from their table to see Alexander standing right beside Oscar's left shoulder. Usually he would take his food and just eat somewhere on the school ground. This was a first for him, again.
Alexander's face was blank as usual as he looked at them. Then he turned his eyes on Oscar and said in such a low voice, that even with his werewolf ears, he could barely hear.
"If I were you I would call my dad and tell him that about fifteen members of a different 'gang' ar transpassing on his 'turf'.
They all looked at him shocked, not knowing what to say. Then he continued. "And it just may be so that they are coming from north-west."
He made a short pause, then continued. "I would call my dad now if I were you. Now. It is possible that they are near the border right now." Then he turned around and left, the eyes of the entire student corp on him, not saying a word. As soon as the doors closed behind Alexander, the conversations started again.
Sven cleared his throat after a while and said." Uh, Oscar. Do you think you should call your dad?"
Oscar nodded and said "I think I should."
He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed his father's emergency-only number.
=Hello? What's wrong son?=
"Hey dad. I was wondering, did you get any report of rogues coming on our turf from north-west?" Oscar asked.
=No, why?= he could hear that his father's voice had instantly changed into his Alpha voice.=Just a second, Oscar.=
From the other side of the phone, Oscar heard someone entering the room his father was in and whisper into his ear.
=Oscar, listen to me. Have everyone in school stay inside the building. Our scouts said that about fourteen rogue wolves have breached the north-west borders and are coming your way. I'm counting on you to keep everyone there safe until we take care of them. Understood?=
"Yes, Alpha." answered Oscar, then closed his phone. *Everyone, listen!* he mind called every wolf from his pack that were in the school.* The north border has been breached. Our Alpha ordered us too keep inside the building until they take care of them.* He looked over the lunch hall to about half the students that sat rod straight in their seats while giving a solemn nod.
He quickly stood up and went to the principal's office. Mr. Harrison was human, but knew about the existance of werewolves and was doing everything he could to help out. Once he heard about the breech, he used the school intercom and announced that every student and teacher was to stay in the building until further notice, because a pack of wolves had been reported to have been seen just twenty minutes away from the school grounds.
And that wasn't really a lie. 'Sentence High' was situated only twenty miles away from the north-west border of the pack's land.
Dorian was leading the group of twenty-five werewolves that were going to intercept the rogues. When his son called and asked that strange question he was about to flog him for doing such a stupid thing. That phone number was only for emergency. But right then his Beta, Charles, came in his office and said that some of their north-west patrols had seen rogues enter their lands. For a fraction of a second he grew cold. His son and many other young werewolves from his pack were going to the same high school; high school which lay smack in the way of the intruding wolves. He had ordered Oscar to keep everyone inside, and had taken Charles and another twenty-three wolves and ran to kill the bastards.
YOU ARE READING
The Ancient
Teen Fiction[...] two-thousand-five-hundred-and-twenty-years old. He is one of the Ancients, one of our 'fathers', one of the Originals, one of the few direct descendants of Father-Moon and Mother-Wolf. And he is right in front of me.
