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"Before calling me stupid! You dumb mortal, immortals do not die!"
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Somewhere beside the deep creek, as the night wind embraced the cold surrounding were seen a pack of men and women talking as if holding an important hearing in the middle of the night, with the full moon up in the dark sky.
"The point stands that there would be no attack till we have our lost Prince!"
Gregory stood ascertained in his claim, standing on the pedestal created by the elevated rock.
"Fifteen years...it had been fifteen years and there has been no whereabouts of him..."
"We will search for more."
Gregory interrupted the one who could only voice against him in the pack, his own son, Gredork.
Who had been hell-bent on moving forward without the presence of the lost prince, who could know if he had been long dead?
"Search for more and search for more...that is what we have been doing all along for the past decade and a half through, father...how much more? "
He rose his voice up, trying to assert his authority against his father's. The pack standing static watched the interaction between the father and son with great attention and silence.
"The Master's wife had lost him in the wetlands fifteen years back and he was just a child, who could tell if he is already dead or not?
He could be already wiped from the face of this earth and we would be wasting all our time finding for him as if he was indeed alive...and even if he was...even if he was...why did he never try to look out for his own...if he is somewhere there...what there have been no attempts from him? "
Gredork tried to impose an argument with a solid reason because without it he could never sweep off the pack's voice aligned to his.
They all looked after his father. And it would seem to any outsiders as if they competed against each other...the father and son to get the pack's validation on each other's sides.
"He was only three when he got separated from his mother, Gredork!"
Gregory let out. In his opinion, that little boy would not even know if he was a werewolf himself.
In Saunders, every kid was raised together before the Great Decade War took place, and they all never knew which race they belonged to until the age of adulthood, the age of turning.
Although it was clear in the case of the Vampire kids, born out of the phenomena of the magic womb because they would be born with their special skill and a thirst for blood.
Meanwhile, the children of the werewolves and the mortals were almost alike because the werewolves only turned out to be themselves when they were of age and had summarised the ritual.
Until then, it was as hard to define them as different from any mortal kids.
The lost Prince might have some idea about the lineage of his family, and what his mother and father were...but he could never know anything about being a werewolf, the culture, and the tradition.
He had missed out on all of that for fifteen long years. It was only reasonable that he, the lost Prince, would not know about anything at all.
"He for sure knows what he is father...he will have a certain idea that he is different. "
"So what are you trying to say that if the lost Prince is alive, knowingly he has been hiding from our reach?"
Gregory threatened Gredork to cross-cut him with that question raised. A murmur erupted out from the pack too, discussing that.
"We will keep looking...a pack needs someone to lead without it, there can be no goal put to it, no meaning..."
When no more comments came out from his son, he thought that he was done concluding what their next mission would be...to look for the lost Prince.
"Aisha. Modork. Ethan. Epiphania. Moose. Jester. And I, myself...or you..."
As Gredrok took the names out one by one, regaining the attention back from the pack once again when they thought they were done with the meeting.
"I could name out more fathers...more capable and eligible ones who could easily gain the pack's mandate to lead...be its leader...then tell me...oh tell me! Why should we wait for someone, whose being alive is not been assured of?"
Gregor stopped on his way to listen to his son, who he had thought would not dare overtake him.
And the names of those werewolves he had taken, they all seemed to have taken a pose to support his demand.
Gregor could see it in their eyes. All the young blood of the pack and right there he could see a division being created between themselves when it had never been since the beginning of the Great Decade War.
The war had divided the werewolves, who always stood together with a few who had been stamped on their ground to stay back and fight with the community than joining the werewolf, who had instigated the war by calling himself their leader.
"I stand with Gredork on that. "
"And me too...we cannot forever wait for the lost Prince to come and be our leader."
Epiphania and Modork sang in the same line as in Gredork and the latter eyed his father with fire in his eyes making Gregory know that after a long time, his son was finally being successful in turning the crowd into his own way.
"Then it's decided.
We will no more waste our time finding a Prince that is not known would ever show up!!
Those who stands with me, might as well follow me to go on our own ways...create something new that is not so hell-bent stuck to the past!"
And that was all it took after Gredork had voiced himself out, one by one who was swept by his mandate, joined him and they all left, crossing the creek to the other side, going their own separate ways.
"This is not a good beginning, my love!"
Stated his wife, behind him, her eyes watching them leave but as if staring straight into the future.
After all, she was a witch from the forest!