ECKO

Some people find joy in the dusty pages of a story, sucked into the throes of a fantastical, fairytale world so grand that reality could never hope to offer anything like it. Whereas, others might find it in the warm arms of their loved ones, smothered by kisses and hugs that reduce their hearts and souls to irretrievable mush.

But me? My joy was here.

The wind was a song of freedom as it whistled past my ears, and as I reached up, fingers tingling in the late fall breeze, my cream-colored, billowing shirt whipped around my body. Pressing down on top of my head with one hand, I hoped to keep my wide-brimmed hat from being carried away with the tide of such a drafty afternoon as I made my way along the inlaid stone pathway that led from my overflowing garden to my family home.

With the majority of my crops reaching the apex of their bounty as the cold front of winter prepared to make its chilly entrance, today's yield was a hearty one. My knit tote – weaved of my own hands in the exact manner in which my Papa had taught me many years ago – bounced heavily against my fleshy hip as I hopped my way along the lengthy footpath, unable to keep the smile from my lips as I thought of the absolutely mouthwatering dinner that I was going to be able to provide for my family tonight.

As I steadied my mental fortitude, preparing it for the onslaught of debauchery that I was sure to find once I returned home, it wasn't long before the quaint, stone structure of my childhood home emerged from over the hill, the smoke that curled from the chimney and into the orangey-blue sky proof that my family was getting started with the evening festivities already.

... Well, that is if you could really call the onslaught of outlandish activity that my Dad, brothers, and sister always managed to get into when the sun sank behind the horizon anything close to festive.

My family couldn't be described as anything other than a rambunctious bunch, a plentiful mix of powerful personalities that never ceased to put on such a show that some might even consider it borderline overwhelming. But regardless, even though I, too, needed ample time away from home in order to quiet my mind, I always loved my family with my entire heart.

Golden light poured from the large windows that surrounded my home, and already, my keen ears picked up on the rampant commotion unfolding within. My shoes clacked against the stone pathway as it converged with the one that led to the larger Pack House up the way, and soon I was ascending the few steps that led up to my expansive front porch and reaching out a hand for the knob of my front door, the flowy sleeve of my shirt riding up my left forearm as I did so.

No matter how many times I saw it, the sight of my own butchered flesh would always send a shiver of ice and blood down my spine. Although the attack was over eleven years ago now, the painful memory of every millisecond of raw terror still remained fresh and brutal in not only my own mind but also that of my fathers'. And for good reason, at that.

I'd nearly died that day, and likely would have if it weren't for Uncle Benji swooping in at the last minute and transfusing countless units of blood into my system right there in the middle of my bloodied backyard. But as I'd learned much later, the blood hadn't only been mine, as while Dad held me tight, soothing me with words so loving that I'd sobbed endlessly into his arms, Papa had unleashed a demon of fury onto the wolf who'd hurt me, reliving him of every limb before silencing him forever.

To this day, killing my attacker in a flurry of uncompromising rage was my Papa's greatest regret. At least, killing him before learning who and where the wolf had come from. 

While we suspected that he was one of the many, emboldened patrol wolves belonging to the feral Cave Sands pack that had stalked my family since a time before I could even remember, there was no true way to verify that suspicion when we were left with nothing but a dead wolf unable to phase back into human form.

So, as a result, I was coddled.

I didn't mind that my fathers were overprotective of me, not really. I mean, with a forearm that looked like somebody had mistakenly shoved it into a high-speed blender and baby fat that had – over time – filled out into drastic curves that left even my own fellow Omegas goggling at me with interest, rules like not being out alone after dark were the very least of my troubles.

It took entirely too long for me to realize that I was stalling, thin fingers remaining wrapped around the door knob but not yet turning as I mulled over my stormy past. So by the time I came to, pushing open the front door and stepping into the ring of chaos, the swirling glow of the sunset was already beginning to dissolve into the familiar, darker navy blues of late evening.

And of course, the very second that my first foot ambled over the threshold, I ducked at once, very narrowly missing being hit directly in the forehead by Theon's rogue neck pillow as it sailed over my head and out of the front door.

"Eckooo!" The screech made my sensitive ears twitch, and in a flurry of movement, I was suddenly swept up into the commotion, used as a human shield as my Dad ducked down behind me. He grabbed my sides with both hands, only peeking a single eye around my waist to survey his territory. "Save me, my sweet baby! Fucklet number one is terrorizingme!"

It was then that Theon appeared from around the corner, all long, thick limbs and shaggy, light brown hair which bore a very similar likeness to Uncle Tyrus's lighter tresses. Although I'd only ever seen his true parents – my grandparents Rayson and Danny – in photos, it was obvious that Theon had become a near carbon copy of the pair in his older age, what with Danny's pretty, almond-shaped eyes and tapered face shape, and Rayson's considerably larger, bulky stature.

By the laws of blood alone, Theon was technically my uncle. But by all other rules of life, I considered him nothing less than my brother.

"Ecko, don't defend him." Theon boomed, eyes bright as he rushed into the open-concept living room. "He's just pissed because I caught him and Papa in the act of trying to go to pound town again." He explained, giving my smaller Dad a sharp look "Because if there's one thing we don't need, it's more kids running around this damn place." 

Dad balked at that, straightening up from behind me at once. Then, he reached behind himself to grab Theon's neck pillow from the porch before hurling it directly back in Theon's direction, the soft item acting like a torpedo as it shot through the air with impeccable speed and aim, in a similar manner to how Dad throws his chancla whenever he gets really pissed at somebody. 

But to his dismay, Dad's efforts to return the attack stood futile as Theon only flashed him a crooked smirk, catching his prized possession midair before tucking the pillow back around his neck, where it seemed to perpetually reside.

"I'll have you know that all of you lil' fucklets were created through either me and your Papa or your grandparents going to 'pound town,'" Dad used air quotations around the vulgar words, "So you better be grateful that us adults had – and still have – a healthy sex life enough to give you life, young man!" He huffed, hands on his hips as his signature sass made boomed through his tone.

I chose that moment to shuffle away awkwardly, gliding out of the line of fire and making my way toward the kitchen, where my Papa was currently very busy ignoring the commotion. His broad back faced the living room as he silently chopped up our family's portion of meat that the hunters had gathered today, and after I lifted my tote over my head, settling it onto the island behind us, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms tight around as much of my Papa's midsection as my shorter arms could reach.

"I'm home, Papa," I greeted, craning my neck around his back to smile merrily up at his exceedingly tall form. I'd always been a Papa's boy, finding immense comfort in the presence of my Alpha father, and this moment was no different than the rest. "I brought back a pretty impressive haul for us today!"

Papa wasn't the most expressive man on earth. In fact, he had what Dad called 'an extreme case of chronic resting bitch face.' But no matter eternally his stony expression, I could always feel the love that he felt for me. It radiated from him in waves as he glimpsed down, dropping everything that he was busy with in order to spin around in my hold and engulf me in a giant hug. As he did so, the corners of his lips twitched upward with what my family came to know as a subtle cue of joy.

"Welcome home, pumpkin." Papa greeted me in that deep, rumbling voice of his, pressing a kiss to my temple before pulling back enough to survey me, making a full scan of my form in order to check for any newfound injury. He always did this same ritual of security whenever I came home, his instinctual need to protect me after the accident compounded by the fact that I was his only full Omega child. "I made your tea."

"Thanks, Papa!" I expressed my gratitude, turning to glance at the steaming mug that sat at the far end of the counter, smile widening. Papa always showed interest in the things that I enjoyed, and one of those things happened to be all the different kinds of herbal tea that this world had to offer. I drank at least two cups a day – morning and evening – and the earthy warmth always soothed my jittery nerves. Even from here, I could smell the delectable chamomile leaves that were soaking inside, herbs grown within my own garden, and my mouth actively watered. "It smells delicious, I'll sip it while we cook."

Ever since the day Dad nearly burnt down the kitchen after attempting to cook an entire chicken in the microwave, it had become a strictly no-Jax-allowed area. Therefore, Papa and I were designated as the family cooks, concocting elaborate feasts worthy of a ravenous werewolf family for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

Papa's eyes flickered then, something like joy flashing behind them as he took note of my harvest tote overflowing onto the island. "What have you brought for us to work with today, my little vegetable whisperer?" Papa teased as I carried the tote over, dumping its contents out so that we could piece together the dinner that would be making tonight. 

But of course, before we could get far, a new voice sounded into the room, drawing my attention from the situation at hand.

"Okay, ew, ew, and more ew." Nuri's inherently hoarse voice was a unique one, the sound similar to someone who constantly had a sore throat. That, along with his signature black, shaggy hair with the underlayer dyed a red so bright it beat even my own, natural ginger coloring, a smattering of dark eyeliner, and a multitude of piercings that lined the shell of his ear, Nuri could easily be the poster boy for a popular emo boy band. 

My little brother was sixteen years old now and already a considerable amount taller than me, but given his presentation as an Alpha-Omega – a finding similar to my Dad's own Beta-Omega genetic anomaly – his size was hardly a surprise. And, to my dissatisfaction, his larger size also did nothing to stop him from stealing every single item of clothing that I owned.

"Can we please stop talking about our Dads banging? Just the thought makes me wanna hurl." Nuri continued, eyes flickering around as he searched the room for something – that something likely being Dad's wallet. "But I do agree with you Theon, they probably shouldn't be banging anymore at all. 'Cuz I swear, one of these days we're gonna end up having to call Uncle Benji because Dad contracts cum lung or some shit." He extrapolated, "They're really much better off sticking to more age-appropriate activities, like... I don't know, book club?"

"You speak the truth, brother." Theon tipped his head in agreement with Nuri's words, settling himself down onto the far end of the couch "Maybe we should enroll them in water aerobics or something too, I heard old people get brittle bones."

Dad's dramatic gasp of utter shock rocketed through the room.

"Excuuuuse the hell outta me?! I am not anything close to old, you constipated wombats! In fact, I am in my prime, turning into a sexy silver fox before your very eye– oh, fuck!" Dad screeched, taking a jump-dive at his youngest son. However, Nuri easily sidestepped the advance, giving our Dad a look of pity as he instead crashed – face-first – into the wall behind him.

"Oh, Gift..." Papa only sighed as if unmoved by the neverending commotion, wiping his hands on a nearby towel before making his way over to check on his rattled husband. And as he approached, pulling Dad into the comforting swell of his arms and using two fingers to tilt his chin up to thoroughly check for any injuries, a hazy form materialized out of the blue.

Part 2 in Next Episode