Runt [ManxMan]

Chapter Eighteen

Dax was deep in paperwork, as usual, when there was a knock on the door to his office.

"Come in," he called, pushing the most recent form away and standing to greet his visitor.

For a moment he feared it may be Tala. She had been absent since their fight the day before, and after days of her constant presence it was rather unnerving. He didn't know where she had gone, and he didn't much care either—when she returned he knew he would have to apologize again and wasn't looking forward to the experience—so he was thankful when it was a middle aged man who stepped through the door instead of the beta-born woman who had been plaguing him.

"Alpha," the man said, bowing a little. It was an old-fashioned gesture Dax didn't require, but many of the older members of the pack clung to traditions, and he didn't force them to throw them away, though they made him uncomfortable.

"What can I help you with?" Dax asked, coming around the desk to lean on the front, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man straightened but hesitated to speak. He had a dominant aura but was not a beta-born, and was leanly muscled. Likely a hunter then, like Chase. The stronger and more dominant wolves were often drawn more to the warrior role, leaving the faster, leaner wolves to be hunters.

"Out with it, then," Dax said when the man still didn't seem inclined to speak.

"We're almost out of meat again," the man admitted, "and we've had no luck hunting on pack land. We'll need to stray into rogue territory again if we want to find food."

Dax nodded; this was not an unexpected idea. "Of course," he said. "Do whatever you need to do." The man hesitated, and Dax sighed. "What else?"

"We already tried, sir," he said, head bowed, though whether it was respect, shame, or fear was no longer clear. "We've had difficulty tracking with the increased number of scents in the area." When the man's pause stretched too long, Dax made a motion with his hand for him to get on with it, to which he blurted, "We need your brother's help, sir. He led the last hunt into rogue territory, and had no trouble tracking through it."

"I don't see the problem," Dax said. "Go ask him, it's his job and he loves to hunt."

"We already did that too, sir. He refused."

This made Dax stand straighter, pushing away from the desk. "Chase refused to go on a hunt?"

This was unlike his brother. Chase had been on any hunt anyone would let him on since he arrived at the pack, even before he was old enough to hunt properly, and he'd always been good at it. Dax knew it was a habit for the former rogue to feel the need to feed everyone after being the sole provider for himself and his brother for years, especially since he'd been so young. It was all he'd ever known, and it had led him to push his limits and hunt almost every day. Dax knew he'd not been going as often with Mason to look after, but not going when requested would have gotten him into trouble if he were anyone else or if the circumstances were different.

Dax sighed. "His brother is sick," he said, slumping back against the desk. He'd gotten an update just the hour before that Mason's condition had worsened overnight, and the healer had called for more equipment from the humans she had connections with so she could monitor his heart rate and keep him hydrated with fluids directly into his veins. Of course Chase would refuse to leave his brother alone in suck a condition.

"I am aware," the man said. "Which is why I hate to ask but... we could really use the help. We were hoping maybe you could talk to him?"

Dax bowed his head at the thought. He also hated to ask it of his brother, but they needed the help, and if Chase was the only option...