The knock on the bedroom door has me stirring from my slumber. How long was I asleep for? Wiping the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. I can't see yet through the blur but I can smell Scott's peppery scent. "I was not sleeping." Is all I can slur out. Light laughter is heard, "sure you weren't Sleeping Beauty and that pool of drool is from someone else." He points to where my head rested on the blanket, I didn't even make it onto the pillow.

Didn't realize I was so tired.

His tone is easy going but I know him, he isn't here to make jokes or hang out like we did when we were younger. "Chey send you?" I ask him before he tells me. Nodding to me he puts his hands in his pockets and takes a leisurely step into my room, looking around, taking it in. "Been a while" he whispers and I nod back, looking at my night table with my old alarm clock. My eyes focus out the window towards the fire pit.

A lot of memories for me here. Could I really leave all that behind?

I don't know if I can.

Guess it's time I male up. "I'm sorry for how I acted last night. It was out of line and if I want respect I have to give it." It's not easy to apologize when I feel I was wronged. I shouldn't have been an ass about it but last night shouldn't have even been a thing. It's also not his fault though, he is only trying to stay neutral in this. Scott is pulled in two separate directions because Cheyenne and I can't see eye to eye.

He is still looking over at the items on my desk. A small notebook I use to doodle in sits near the edge. A pen holder with a few pens, pencils and an eraser on the other side. Next to it is a knocked over picture frame from graduation. Simpler days that I use to pray would be over with, now I wish I had those days back.

He picks up the picture frame looking it over before placing it back upright. Clearing his throat but still not saying anything so I look back out the window trying not to focus on any one thing in particular. He takes that as his cue to say the things that need to be said but he doesn't want to speak aloud.

Scott has never had to be Alpha towards me. Has never had to use a tone or have these conversations. It's awkward and I'm not proud to have put him in this position with my actions.

"Kirsten is planning on leaving early next week, either Monday or Tuesday. Tomorrow Chey wants us to take them and the pups to that wildlife refuge north of the town. Have an outing together." He speaks low, pausing; hesitating. "I'm not saying you have to court her or take her out on more dates I'm just asking you to try and see if this is something that is best for you. You may just like her, you might not, but you won't know for certain until you at least try." He is trying to reason with me. Get me to see things from their perspective but all I feel is the tightening noose of conformity.

I have nothing to say- just continuing to look out the window, chomping my teeth together behind my closed mouth. Leg quivering. I need to run.

Feeling the bed dip down beside me, I exhale slowly. "Do this for me and I'll allow you a month to a month and a half to go looking where ever you want but you have to actually try and get to know her. Look at it as making a friend." He jerks my shoulder with his own. I can't hold back my snicker. "Yea bro, I'm such a charismatic male. Friendship comes naturally to me." The sarcasm flows like a second language for me. We both know I'm horrible at it, my juvenile years are proof of that.

He slaps my back with a light laugh. "You missed training this morning ya know." His change in the subject doesn't go unnoticed. It was getting hard to breathe in the tension and discomfort.

Scratching my chin through my beard in mock thought. "ya, suppose I did, wonder if the Alpha noticed." That earns a guffaw from Scott.

"Pretty sure if I dragged you to the training field Valorie would have my head on a platter for dinner. She gave me an ear full when I came here to speak with you." He shutters before tugging at his right ear. Grams is a hard ticket.

He stands up from the bed with a stretch. Two full-grown males make this whole room seem even smaller I'm surprised we can fit in here.

"Why is it when you're the asshole I'm the one who gets in trouble the most?" He asks with a sly grin.

Mimicking the same grin back "wrong time, wrong place?" Shrugging my shoulders.

"You are such a dick," he chuckles, "by the way she said to tell you dinner is ready, slept the damn day away."

Looking back at the alarm clock it reads '2:00 pm' in dim red lights, it's starting to get darker out, must be closer to seven. "Hmm, clocks wrong" nodding my head towards it. Scott tosses me my watch from last night. The metal band is broken.

"Found that in my driveway might want to get it fixed." He says before heading out the door and down the stairs. I place it in my pocket and follow him down. I can hear Grams from the kitchen asking him to stay and have something to eat. He declines, saying Cheyenne has something cooking at home.

Poor guy has lost some weight since meeting her. Not the cook and clean type. I suppose I have as well living on my own. Not pudgy anymore. Muscle fill out my body but it could be better.

Telling him "later" before he walks out the door I sit down for the stew Grams has cooking in her crockpot. I could smell it all the way upstairs. My stomach groans from the lack of eating the past few days. She gives me a look "hungry? Did you eat at all yesterday?" Always wanting to make sure I'm eating enough. She worries a lot since I moved into the small cabin by myself calling most evenings to see if I'm hungry and wanting anything.

I make sure to answer her before she starts force-feeding me with a spoon. "Took down an eight-point buck last night." Puffing out while telling her with a wolfish smile which she returns me with a pointed look. "I asked if you have eaten, not if your wolf did smart ass." She gets the big soup bowls from the cupboard and proceeds to fill me a bowl first. Placing it in front of me and instructing me to eat while still holding the wooden spoon in her hand; resting it on her hip.

She doesn't have to tell me twice. I got that enough as a pup to know how hard it can crack.

The soft rabbit meat melts in my mouth. I forgot how much I missed her home-cooked meals. I usually opt to eat at the diner not far from here or frozen meals I can cook quickly.

It's not long before I'm standing up to refill the bowl. Good thing she made a big batch she isn't having any leftovers from this. "Want any more?" I ask her before I devour it all. She shakes her head no. "You go ahead and finish it." She gets a slice of bread and butters it before dipping it in her bowl.

We slip into a comfortable silence. Enjoying the company and warm meal. Old time comfort.

Finishing the last of my bowl I take both dishes to wash them in the sink. "Want to spend the night, don't you?" Asking me what I have had on my mind but know I can't. I'm too grown now to do this. "Beds a bit small, clothes too." Trailing off. I'm supposed to be an adult male out on my own not a pup asking to stay for a sleepover with grandma. I just can't stand being alone there. Everyone around me finding their mates, having pups, moving forward in their lives while I'm back peddling.

"You'll find her Cage." Her soft voice in my ear and a delicate hand on my arm disrupt my depressing thoughts. I give her a small smile, pressing my cheek to hers. Her nose scrunches up and she pushes me away. "Shave that beard you aren't fully wild." She tells me.

"Love you, Grams. I'll call you in the morning after training, you can make me breakfast before I have to go out." Giving my arm a squeeze before letting go she busies herself with putting away the pot and dishes.

I hate doing this to her but I have to do it for myself. I need to grow up and learn.

This might be my life. Loneliness.

The doubts come back to bring my growing anxiety with them. I choke down the whimper creeping up my throat with my swaying emotions.

We need a run, now.

My mental barrier is being pushed on to the point of blurring sight. He needs out. Quickly heading up the stairs to grab my old bag and notebook, stuffing the map and my watch in with it. I don't want to leave these things behind. Barreling out the back door and placing the bag down I let my wolf surge forward. The snapping of bones and realignment is quick, painless. Not like it use to be the last time I was here like this.

The wolf's teeth clamp down on the handle of my backpack before sprinting off into the dense forest. Soon the leaves will change and fall. The cadaverous trees and hibernating underbrush will allow me to almost see this cabin from my own.

No stopping to chase tonight I'll give him a run tomorrow after our 'outing'. He shakes his head back and forth, groaning at both ideas. I want to get home to update the map and make plans for where to go next. A month is not a lot of time to travel and hit packs quickly. I need to figure out transportation and routes to take to maximize the radius. I may not get another opportunity for this. Scott is losing faith. I can't blame him, all this travel with no luck, most have found their mates by now or taken one by their twenty-fifth birthday. I'll be twenty-seven in the spring of the new year.

I feel older than I should.

The moon shines brightly through the break in the clouds. I send up a quick prayer and the wolf drops the bag to throw his head back in a howl. Stupid animal. His bark towards me is aggressive, he is in no mood for jokes or play anymore. One track mind. One goal.

We don't stall for long on the back porch, snatching the bag from the ground and through the door tossing it to the floor before going into the bathroom for a quick rinse off.

Sitting at my table the wood stove keeps the cold air at bay, the house is lightly dimed to conserve the energy needed for winter. My map is stretched out and a pencil and paper have routes drawn and organized. I never realized just how many places I had been until now. Tallying up four Canadian provinces and one of their territories, seventeen states including Alaska as well as parts of northern Mexico. I can see why others are losing faith in my luck.

Fuck.

The wood stove crackles when the log burning in it splits. I should get up and throw some more in it and head to bed but my depression keeps me grounded in my chair. I can't stop these thoughts from repeating in my mind.

This is getting me down.

The same one keeps coming and going. If I forsake my mate now, what happens when I find her later? I know what happens to pups born out of mate bond I couldn't do that to my own young. My life was shit. No matter how much my grandparents tried and how loved I was it didn't make it easy for me. I had to fight more, deal with more, ask hard questions no young pup should have to ask. I rather my legacy ends with me than to fuck up my own pups life because I never waited.

Groaning into the table I force myself to stand. My broken watch reads 12:57 and I have to be up in three hours for training. No sleeping for me tonight. Searching the fridge for something its virtually empty. There is a take-out container and monster energy drink as well as some bottled water. Sounds delicious at one in the morning. Grabbing the food I'm not even going to bother to heat it up, shovelling it down with every forkful. Tossing the drink with a water bottle in the bag that still has my notebook in it. Change of clothes next, I'll shower and change at the facility, get out of there and on this 'outing' as quick as possible.

I'll worry about the watch tomorrow when I have nothing better to do.

The air is cold enough for my breath to form a vapour in front of my face. This will help wake me up more and keep the drinks cold.

It's a quick drive to the training building but I don't bother to go inside. A small playground is out near the training yard for pups to play while watching the youth and adults work. I take up a sitting position under a nearby tree, there is enough light for me to thumb through my notebook. Looks like the last entry was years ago. I was seventeen at the time. Just random jotted down notes on a few pages mostly doodles and drawings found.

I remember when I loved to draw. I would sit out by the firepit and watch the wildlife go by; most of my drawings seem to be that. A few of the adult wolves, deer, rabbits and squirrels mixed into the trees and scenery of the small pond on the pack lands. One is of Pops splitting wood. I look down at the tattoos of my inner arm that match the notebook and a sad smile creeps on my face. Goddess I miss him.

Days spent outdoors with him was my fondest childhood memories. When I finally shifted I didn't get the experiences most males my age do of having their fathers take them on their first hunt, show them how it's done. My grandfather had to show me. His slowed down and aged wolf could only chase and catch the small rodents on the ground. Instead of wasting our time Pops would take me out to watch and learn, even as a pup. Learning to step without sound, tracking an animal down by the signs they leave behind, observing an animal when it is calm and when it feels threatened. I would draw as he showed me and explained to me the things most didn't know.

Losing track of the time the crunch of leaves and rocks under shoes brings me back to the present. Scott is just standing to the side with a mischievous grin on his face waiting for me to get up.

Time for pain.