Chapter Text
Tommy’s not running this time. But it might be worse. He opens his eyes and is met by darkness like a tangible caress, but from the smell alone, he already knows where he is. It smells like rot and disease and filth . He shudders when he tries to struggle to his paws and something hard prods at his side. It could be just the bones from caught prey. Or, it could be the maggot torn corpse of the wolves thrown down here.
It’s awful. And for all that he hates running for his life or taking claws and teeth to his flesh, he hates this even more, because the ditch is so far away from the main camp. He can’t hear anything but the wind rustling across the trees and the soft, steady pressure of flies buzzing around. His only mercy is that the former Alpha would never throw him down here if he had been previously injured- no point in risking an infection to open wounds for his most trusted wolf.
Tommy doesn’t know how long he remains in the ditch this time, barely able to lift his head to chart the way the sky darkens and then lightens again. It’s only when he hears the thud of heavy paws on earth above him that he blinks open his eyes. A fly that had been resting there spins lazily in the corners of his vision before vanishing.
A short bark rings above him, and Tommy knows his time is up. He rises to his feet to climb up, and slinks to the Alpha’s side.
Wilbur groans as Tubbo darts past him, the teen too hyped up on coffee and sugar to settle down, even if it was seven in the morning. The first official day of the Summoning didn’t start until eight, but Phil and the other Head Alphas always liked to drag their packs earlier. Wilbur won’t lie to say he’s a bit envious of the underpacks- their Alphas had duties too, but for the most part they were free to sleep in.
However, waking up early had its benefits. Yesterday night was curious at best, and worrying at worst; after Tommy had taken the Pogtopia pups away, not a single wolf from Pogtopia had come to the Commons. Although the priests had assured them nothing was amiss, Wilbur still caught the glances shared from pack to pack. Part of the reason Phil had called them up so early was also to hopefully intercept the Pogtopia Alpha before the meeting.
But from the looks of it, they might not come down at all. The Esempi Pack and the Badlands Pack had both come and left, only the Syndicate Pack was left with no sign of Pogtopia.
“Alright. Come on now, let’s get going. We’ll still see Pogtopia at the Summoning either way.” Phil says, draining the last dregs of his coffee. Wilbur follows, thankful to have something to do instead of mulling over the strangeness that was Tommy.
When they arrive at the Summoning- a wide marble dome with tables against the walls and pack colors for corresponding seats- Pogtopia has still not arrived. Wilbur watches as Phil walks up to engulf Lady Kristen in a hug, and then greets Eret- the representative for the wolves, and Schlatt- the representative for Manburg.
“Strange, isn’t it?” George from Esempi slides up to Wilbur, speaking in an undertone. The wolf looks half-asleep, white goggles lying crooked on his head. He’s decked out in the uniform green for Esempi, though it takes on a more teal tint rather than the lime green Dream sports.
“Hi Gogs. Have you spoken to anyone from Pogtopia yet?” Wilbur replies. The wolf’s arrival is a greeting enough.
“No, none from Esempi have. Though, we saw one of their Seconds approach yours?” This is surprising news.
“Yeah, he was from an underpack though.”
George’s eyes widened. “So no one has heard from the Head Pack? Sapnap says the Badlands haven’t either.”
Wilbur thinks back to Tommy, and his refusal to properly title Phil, but his easy respect for titling Niki. There’s something incredibly worrying about it, and it reminds Wilbur all too much of how he was before Kristen found him.
“Gah!” George ducks, scowling at Quackity when the wolf tries to swipe him across the head. Wilbur turns, letting Quackity use him as a shield against George’s unrelenting glare when the man tries to grab at him, which doesn’t prove to do much when the two immediately fall into bickering.
“Say you’re sorry you idiot-”
“Oh Gogy, I’m so sorry, I know how long you spent doing your hair-”
“Yeah, because I care about my appearance unlike someone -”
“-Only to hide the little demon corrupting your soul-”
“Say sorry or I’m telling Sapnap you tried to kiss me-”
“That’s a low fucking blow-”
“-with tongue-”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry- Gogy- wait-”
George rolls his eyes, brushing away from them. “Your Alpha’s calling you” he says, and Quackity relents.
“Come on,” Wilbur says, tossing an arm around his packmate, “let’s go before Phil gets fussy.”
With Phil, the tension is even stronger, and even though none of the representatives look particularly worried, Wilbur can feel the slight tang of Phil’s stress on the pack bond. He takes his seat next to Phil, Techno on the other side of him.
“I don’t understand why Leon isn’t here yet,” Phil is saying to Techno, “it’s the same place as the last Summoning.”
Techno chuffs, “you’re stressing the runts out. Relax old man, Leon’ll be fine. He’s probably just trying to get all those pups from yesterday to settle before he comes with his pack.”
“They’re coming.” Eret says suddenly, pulling their sunglasses off. A glimpse of white light emits from their eyes as they scent the air. “The Alpha and his entire Head Pack.”
Techno nudges Phil on the side. “I dunno why you were so worried.”
Wilbur can scent them now, the unmistakable scent of a Head Alpha. The soft rustling of Pogtopian silks echo along the marble hallway along with the smell of sun-warmed jasmine and amber.
But it’s not the Pogtopian Alpha Wilbur remembers from the last Summoning. No, instead it’s Tommy- Tommy from last night- Tommy draped in sun embroidered robes- who enters. The pups follow him, Wilbur watches as they fan out slightly behind him, all dressed in matching white and yellow.
The tension peaks, strung tight as the wolves take in Tommy’s Alpha scent.
“Apologies, I didn’t realize we had changed locations. I’d gone to the room used two Summonings ago.” Tommy says, walking over to the eastern stands. He leads his pups over before taking his seat at the head of the Pogtopia stand.
In the end, it’s Sam- the Second from Esempi- who says what they’re all thinking.
“Sorry, who are you?”
Tommy tucks his hands under his stand. He stares at Sam, and all Wilbur can think of is how ridiculous he looks, this teen pup staring down the Warden of Esempi.
“I’m Tommy, I come from Pogtopia.” he recites. “I am the Head Alpha of the Pogtopia Pack. This,” he motions to the pups behind him, “is my Pack.”
“I thought you were a Second- you scented like a Second yesterday.” Tubbo says from where he’s sitting next to Ranboo and Niki.
Tommy nods. “ You thought I was a Second.”
Something’s wrong, Wilbur thinks as he takes in the stark tension in Tommy’s pups.
“Tommy,” Puffy- Alpha of Esempi- starts slowly, “where is your Pack? Where is your pack ?”
“On the last Summoning, Pogtopia had three hundred and eighty-four members. Why have only seven been registered this year?” Eret says sharply. They’re flipping through some sort of book with Schlatt, and when they look up, their eyes glow. “What happened?”
“Tommy, where's Leon?” Kristen cuts in, fingers shaking. She curls it into her purple robe.
The silence that falls is heavy, all eyes trained on Tommy waiting for the teen- the Alpha to speak. Wilbur doesn’t know what to think- for an Alpha to be replaced means a battle or death- Leon was both very strong and very healthy. Wilbur thinks back to the way he’d nearly ripped Techno’s stomach open the last time they sparred- there’s no way Tommy beat him in combat.
Tommy’s face is calm, eyes focused on Puffy. Behind him, his pups shift uneasily.
“Oh, they’re dead. They’re-” his volume increases, barreling forward despite the horrified shock on everyone’s face. Even Schlatt, who has an unshakable if it happens, it happens mindset, seems shaken. “They have been dead for two years now- the winter before last. There was like- a mass genocide. Sorry, I guess, about Sally.” Tommy gives a hysterical little laugh. To Wilbur’s right, Niki shuts her eyes. “You said three hundred and eighty-four? Yeah, I wouldn’t know- how many members exactly- but my pack, we make up the population of the Pogtopia Pack.”
Tommy pauses. No one says anything, so he continues.
“It’s a bit messy, it’s all a bit confusing. There was a mutiny somewhere in there too- we sent out messengers.” Tommy shudders, shifts his stare to look blankly at Fundy. The Syndician messenger flinches. “We got the threat, so- Leon ,” he spits the name out, “he sent out messengers, two for each Pack.”
The Syndicate never received any messengers from Pogtopia. From the faces on the other Packs, neither had they.
“When they- this was the genocide part of it- so. They killed the messengers, and they had strung their bodies on these like, pillar things, it was like- y’know how L’Manberg used to do crucifixions? Anyways, that took a couple seasons and when they left, there were only about four or five underpacks.”
“ Goddess. ” Someone whispers.
Wilbur’s still staring at Tommy, how is he alive?
“Where is Leon?” Eret’s voice is sharp, cutting through the foggy haze of horror. Three hundred and eighty-four.
Tommy glares at Eret, opening his mouth to reveal his sharp canines. “I killed him in ritual combat.”
“Impossible.” Techno breathes, Wilbur remembers the quick flash of claws and how Techno had stumbled back, collapsing to his knees. Tommy, Wilbur doesn’t know what Tommy is thinking when he glances at Techno but the streak of fear in his eyes is unmistakable.
Schlatt looks displeased; in his eyes it’s blatant murder but Tommy is protected by both his Alpha status and Eret as his representative. Kristen has her head buried in her hands.
“I don’t understand how we weren’t informed of this.” Phil finally says. He looks less like the Alpha of the Syndicate and more like- just another wolf.
Tommy sits up, “I said we ordered for messengers-”
“-Why weren't we informed afterwards?”
“Well, then the mutiny happened, innit? The underpacks got fed up and staged an attack on camp-”
“Is that when Leon was killed?” Dream from Esempi asks. They all know what he’s really asking, was the only reason you were able to kill Leon because he was already weakened from fighting off five underpacks?
“Around that time, yeah.” Tommy glances over at Phil, something angry in his gaze. “You don’t truly think that I would have traveled all the way to your territory with six pups, did you? Besides, they destroyed most of the camp, including the power lines, communicators and the temples.”
“You could have rebuilt those. Your prayers would have still gone through.” Kristen murmurs absent-mindedly. Tommy spins on her.
“Oh I’m sorry, are you blaming me for something? I was a tad busy trying to keep the pups from dying-” he snaps.
“No, dear- that’s not what I meant-”
“Who was it?” Schlatt cuts in, huffing when the room’s attention turns to him. “What? Look, kid, if they were humans, I can do something about it, if they were wolves- well that’s up to Highness over here.”
Tommy shakes his head, almost amused. “No, not humans. Not wolves either.” He adds on, glancing at Eret. His gaze rests heavily on Kristen.
“Oh, Goddess. You’re kidding.” Skeppy- the Second from Badlands groans.
“Thirty-six of my underpacks are dead- I assure you I am not.”
“My priests?” Kristen whispers shakily. Wilbur can hardly believe it. From any aspect of it: Lady Kristen is a brilliant Head Priest, her students all swear an oath of nonviolence.
“Maybe not your priests, specifically. But definitely followers of Goddess Death. Here-” Tommy pulls a string of smooth black feathers out from his tunic. Crow feathers , Wilbur recognizes, perfectly woven crow feathers with tiny bells attached. There’s nothing else it could symbolize but the Goddess Death.
Tommy tosses the band to Kristen. It lands in front of her with a soft plink , but when she doesn’t pick it up, he turns back to Schlatt. The human sighs.
“Well, this is a mess. Shall we break for wine and reconvene?”
All in all, Tommy thinks that went well. He didn’t lose his temper, nor say anything he regretted. If the former Alpha had any use, it was teaching Tommy the proper way of public speaking. The first day of Summoning was always intended to just catch up, something Tommy didn’t know until today. They had demanded he give a detailed play-by-play of everything that had happened and while Tommy was sure they went away with their own impressions of him, his one realization was that none of them had any idea just how awful Leon had been. How the Pack had been.
They hadn’t all been bad , Tommy supposes, a truth he’d had a hard time facing in the aftermath of everything. If some of them had been kind, was it right that they still died? That Tommy didn’t do anything to protect them? He thinks- no, he knows he could have. Sally had been kind, one of the few caretakers in the camp. Corpse- a guard, Tina- a hunter. There are others, but their names and faces are tucked away somewhere in the depths of his mind. The truth was, besides those few, Tommy hardly ever thinks about his life in the former pack. His nightmares are memory enough.
His musings are interrupted by the sound of Henry’s false cries. The pup is being shoved into the soft grass by Shroud, his brother’s paws pressing into his shoulders, rendering him limp. Tommy sighs, picks himself up from where he’d been showing Clara how to weave flower crowns. It was a skill Tina had taught him, on the rare occasions he was permitted to go duo hunting with she-wolf during spring. They’d track an easy kill, a couple hares or a fox, and then she’d lead him into an open field or the bushes by a river.
He shifts on the trek down the hill to Henry and noses Shroud off. The pup collapses dramatically, huffing when Henry instantly retaliates and springs onto his back. The two continue their skirmish, Tommy sits back content. He doesn’t know where his other pups are, they’d wanted to wander around the Acropolis for a bit, but he trusts that they’re safe. A faint request on the pack bond and his eldest sends back a soft with Blue and Micheal. A beat later, by the firefly fountain.
Tommy scents the arrival of two new wolves before they enter the back gardens. He watches as they appear around the pillar, both young. He’d clock them around his age. One’s a dusty blonde, the other a dark mahogany, both of them so wrapped up in whatever conversation they’re having they don’t notice Tommy or the pups until Shroud collides into the brunette’s front legs.
Henry hics, darting behind Tommy’s hind legs. Surprised, the dark wolf lifts a paw, the movement sending Shroud flat against the ground.
“ Calm. ” The Command rings out before Tommy can even compute it, he’s on his feet and rapidly pushing in front of Shroud.
The mahogany wolf whines high, apology, confusion, peace , Tommy forces his claws to retract. He hadn’t even noticed they’d come out.
Safe , he tries to convey, they’re good . While Tommy might not trust them, he doesn’t want the pups’ immediate response to any new wolf they meet to be instant fear and wariness. He’s already failed Clem and Micheal, he knows, he’d hate himself if he taught the younglings the same way.
It’s a minute before Shroud comes ducking out from under him, and Henry, emboldened by his brother’s actions, bounces up to meet the new wolves. The mahogany one yips, leaning down so the pups can bat at his snout but the dark blonde one is still staring at Tommy. His eyes are a sharp, vibrate purple color- Tommy’s sure Clara would get a kick out of it.
The other wolf came across so standoffish, Tommy’s actually surprised when he reclines his head in a respectful bow. There’s nothing mocking or condensing in the gesture, Tommy nods back when the wolf meets his eyes. He doesn’t think he needs to, the former Alpha never did when speaking to his underpacks, but Tommy’s discovered that doing the opposite of anything the former Alpha taught him usually proves to be the right decision.
The wolf barks, greeting , yours? Tommy confirms. The two wolves don’t have the same juniper-and-pine scent that Tommy associates with the Syndicate packs which automatically puts them in either Esempi or Badlands.
He tosses his head back to the top of the hill where Clara is still occupied by her flowers. When he turns to head back, it’s an open invitation for the new wolves to join him, one the mahogany wolf eagerly takes up. He brushes up against Tommy’s side, running ahead, Shroud and Henry at his heels.
Clara takes the arrival of the two new wolves much better than her brothers, bounding up to them once they reach the top. She’s the only one in her two-leg form, Tommy knows the other wolves are taking in just how young she is. She reaches out to pat the mahogany one on the snout, giggling when he licks at her hand.
“Hi! Hi-hi, I’m Clara! I come from Pog-Topia!” she chirps, breaking the word in half. “Are you my mama’s friend?” The wolf tilts his head just as Clara notices Tommy and the dark blonde wolf climbing up. “Mama! Here, look!” She beams, cobalt eyes squeezed tight with joy. In her hand she clutches at a messily woven dandelion crown, fingertips stained yellow from pollen.
Tommy can feel the concerned stare of the wolves on his back even as he lowers his head to accept the crown. He gives Clara a gentle nudge in thanks, stepping back when she pushes at his legs.
“Wait- wait! Here, sit,” She thumps the ground next to her with her hand, gesturing to the mahogany wolf. “Sit here! I can make one for you too!”
Pride wells up in Tommy’s chest, a familiar fluttering sensation that makes him giddy, so full of admiration for the pup. She’s brilliant, Tommy knows, I love her so much .
Eased, he collapses onto the ground, uncaring of how he may appear when Shroud and Henry instantly take his body as a tumbling mat. From what he can tell, the other wolves aren’t that much older than him- he highly doubts they care at all.
“Fun pups.” A voice comes from his side. Tommy glances over languidly- the other wolf has shifted into hs two-leg form and now lies on his back, facing Tommy so that he can turn his head to look at him. He looks young, Tommy wouldn’t place him anywhere over a year older than him. His hair is the same dusty blonde as his fur, eyes just as vibrant as his wolf-form. He’s also wearing an obscene amount of purple- Tommy would’ve mistaken him for a priest in training or something if it weren’t for the Esempi insignia pinned to his sweatshirt. He barks in agreement.
“I’m Purpled: Child of Esempi. The moron over there is Eryn; I’ll do him the favor of introducing him since he’ll just forget and then get offended when you don’t know it.”
Tommy huffs in amusement. Now that Purpled has shifted, Tommy can place him as one of the teens sitting on one of the higher stands along the Esempi section from this morning. He must have changed out of his dark green sash some time after the Summoning the way Tommy had done for the pups, unable to stand the pity their white-and-yellow silks invoked. That must mean that Eryn was the other teen dressed in Esempi green, the one with frizzy black hair shorn close along the sides held back by a black band. The same teen that had broken away from where he had been conversing with Tubbo when Tommy had entered.
Your pack? Tommy relays, wary at how he hasn’t heard any approaching footsteps since they had arrived.
“They split off, but I think we’re regrouping for dinner later.” Purpled says.
Join! Eryn interrupts, tail thumping. Tommy notes how he carefully avoids sweeping across the little bundle of plucked weeds Clara layed there. Welcome Esempi!
“What?” Clara pipes up from where she’d been leaning against Eryn’s flank, fingers working clumsily to braid her chosen pickings. “Where’re we going?”
“You are welcome to join. I’m sure my pack would be chill with it- we’d be glad if you came.” Purpled adds when Tommy fails to reply.
Tommy doesn’t believe it, but Purpled’s words are sincere and when he turns to look at Eryn, the wolf’s eyes shine brightly. He sighs.
Do we want to have dinner with some new friends? He relays down the Pack bond, giving the younglings an out without having to say so in front of the other wolves. The Esempi Pack , he clarifies for Clem and Micheal.
Yes-yes-yes! Clara parrots eagerly, and her brothers, always keen to follow her, happily give their approval. It’s a minute before Clem replies. As long as it’s not the Syndicate , she jests, Micheal’s also okay with it. Are we meeting you Tommy?
You said you’re already at the firefly fountain? I’ll come meet you there; I don’t want you wandering around after the sun sets. To the other wolves, he nods. I need to collect the other pups. You’re welcome to come with me, he tacks on at the end.
Purpled smirks, easily crouching to his feet. “Eryn!” he calls, “let’s go!” Tommy waits for Shroud and Henry to tumble off him before shifting, brushing grass off his clothes as he stands. He flushes when he feels Purpled studying his clothes, turning away to gather Shroud and Henry around his heels.
When the underpacks had arrived, they'd wasted no time in destroying anything memorable in the Head camp. Not only was the House ruined, they’d also trashed the nursing cave, guard stations and the system ditches set up for hunters. Then, as wolves fought and died around them, the Alphas of the underpacks set fire to the House, erupting pipes and bringing the whole structure down within a matter of hours. The camp archives, the living quarters, even the former Alpha’s office were all torn apart- anything Tommy could salvage was only done so after the grass became slick with blood and he remained the only wolf standing in the camp center.
His cargo jacket was taken from the remains of Corpse’s room, his messenger bag from the salted earth of Aimsey’s station. Anything he had of any sentimental value leached with the frigid memory of his dead Pack.
He waits for Clara to secure a slightly better constructed dandelion crown on Eryn’s head and start a pace in front of him before starting down the hill. Shroud and Henry nip around his feet as he walks, barely sharpened teeth snapping at his laces.
“I just need to swing by the firefly fountain to pick up the other pups,” Tommy repeats as Purpled and a two-legs Eryn falls into pace beside him, “then you can lead the way.”
Eryn side-eyes him, tugging on his own gray sweater. “You know, you’re remarkably chill for an Alpha.” Tommy finds this hilarious.
“Clara’s fond of you,” he says in reply, “you seem decent.”
Purpled scoffs. “Just decent?” he smirks, “and what about me?”
Tommy can feel the press of a smile growing. “Well, I find you absolutely delightful dearest. From the first time I laid eyes on you I was positively smitten-”
“ Stop , Goddess, you’re both insufferable.” Eryn groans, stumbling into Tommy. He catches his claws before he can accidentally release them.
“Have your pups been at the fountain this entire time?” Purpled asks. Tommy hums, watching Clara to make sure she’s going in the right direction. “Probably not. Clem- the eldest- took the others to walk around. Last I checked, she was at the fountain.” He pauses, unable to ignore Purpled’s slight. “Also, they’re not my pups.”
Purpled bypasses his last remark, squinting at him in confusion. “When’d you check? You were in wolf form the entire time.”
“When we were about to leave- Clara sweetheart, turn left here- I just asked her. What do you mean, ‘when did I check?’” Tommy’s half invested in the conversation, busy watching Clara up ahead and making sure he doesn’t accidentally kick one of the younglings racing around his feet. Still, he catches the glance Purpled and Eryn share.
“When you say you ‘asked’ her,” Eryn begins, “you don’t mean that you asked her a question down your pack bond, do you?”
“Yeah?” Tommy frowns, hating how he’s unaware of whatever the Esempi wolves are realizing.
“As in, you asked her a complete, strung together sentence and that she responded ?” Eryn clarifies, volume rising. Tommy crosses his arms.
“That’s exactly what I meant. What, can you two not?”
“No!” Purpled says vehemently, “can your entire pack do it? Even that one?” He points at Henry.
“His name is Henry, and yes. Though, he’s usually with an older sibling and they’ll answer for him.” Tommy says haltingly.
“Dude, that’s actually like, so cool. That’s sick, I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that.” Eryn exclaims. The leadened feeling in Tommy’s chest lessens a bit.
“Really? Not even your Alphas?”
“Not even Puffy or Sam.” Eryn sighs with awe. “At least, I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask them.”
“You do that.” Tommy responds, arriving at the clearing to the firefly fountain. It’s an ethereal gazebo setting, all hanging wisterias and low bending willow trees backdropping an elaborate fountain surrounded by crowds of blinking fireflies. Despite the scenic setting, Tommy’s distracted with hunting down the rest of his pups in the dim light of the little lanterns placed along the pathway. Finally, he spots them, Clem and Micheal trying to teach Blue some sort of hand-clapping game against the cool stone of the fountain and calls out to them. They look up quickly, then Clem grabs Blue and they rush over to him.
Micheal barrels headfirst into Tommy who laughs, reaching down to comb a hand through his hair. He tucks a wisteria blossom that had landed on Clem’s head behind her ear and props Blue on his hip before turning to introduce them.
“Dears, this is Purpled and Eryn from Esempi. Guys, this is Clem, Micheal and Blue.” Tommy gestures between the two groups, eyes raking over the pups. Micheal has a few new grass stains on his tunic- Tommy couldn’t care less, he’s just happy that the pup feels safe enough to get into childish scraps without fearing for repercussion. Clem’s carrying her tote bag, Tommy takes in the several new pins pressed through it- they look remarkably similar to the pin Tommy saw Purpled wearing earlier. Micheal seems to suddenly remember them too, pulling on the handle of Clem’s bag to bring to Tommy’s attention.
“Mimi, look at this! These other wolves came up to us, they were all trading pins for other underpacks. And some of them asked for ours- our Pack has pins too, don’t we?” His gaze is bright but Tommy can see the faint touch of desperation in them too- the eagerness to belong- and his heart breaks a bit.
“Yeah, Big M, I’ll get those for you.” he replies easily, he has no fucking clue where to get them .
“Mama!” They all look up, Clara already at the exit pulling on one of the pillars. “Can we go now, please, can we go now?”
The walk to dinner is relatively uneventful- Clem turns out to like the Esempi wolves a great deal more than Tubbo and Ranboo, and Tommy was right in assuming Clara would be fascinated with Purpled’s eyes.
Blue is babbling at him, little fingers smacking at his arm while he recounts all the individual fireflies Emmy and Micah took him to see and Tommy suspects he’ll tire himself out before the dinner is over. Both Shroud and Henry have shifted into two-legs, Shroud walking alongside his sisters while Henry matches Tommy’s pace, jumping from rock-to-rock on the large slabs set out to mark the pathways.
“Apparently,” Purpled is saying to them, “the Head Packs always eat dinner together. I say apparently because I find it hard to believe that Puffy and Sam can tolerate Syndicate and Badlands for every night the entire week, but that is what we did the last Summoning I came to, so.”
“Glad to be able to withhold Pogtopia’s side of that custom.” Tommy laughs flatly, and Purpled and Eryn both turn to him, as if they’ve forgotten that Tommy’s an Alpha and have just remembered.
The chosen dining hall Purpled and Eryn lead him to is already bustling with activity but without the Pack colors, Tommy can’t tell who’s already here. Henry steps a tad closer to him, clinging to his jacket but Shroud and Clara, secured by the presence of the Esempi wolves follow them unquestioningly inside. The design of the dining hall is a lot more Acropolis-inspired instead of Commons-inspired, but Tommy can still make out elegantly modeled booths and carved sections of cushion.
“Come on,” Purpled gestures them over to the buffet style spread, “let’s get food first.”
From the color-coded signs atop each dish, Tommy can tell that they’re all traditional Pack cuisines, but even when he studies the smooth yellow cards written with dark gold ink, he hardly recognizes the corresponding dishes. ‘Roasted duck glazed with hoisin sauce and spring greens’ one of the cards reads. Tommy has never tasted hoisin sauce before despite watching it be made in the kitchens because none of the wolves had wanted to risk the former Alpha’s wrath, and any duck he’s had was either a fresh kill Tina caught for him or the large duck eggs he’s gathered at the edges of rivers and pond banks. Never roasted like the one in front of him, with its crispy golden-brown skin glistening with fat. The best he has for ‘spring greens’ are the old apothecary books he’s dug up from the rubble of the archives which only depict medical uses and nothing about edibility.
He’s tempted to just stick to dishes from other packs, because then at least he’ll have an excuse as to why he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s eating, but when he thinks back to the way Micheal had looked over those pins, his heart clenches. He couldn’t stand it if the pups lost any more of their history than they already have.
The former Alpha has trained him to be able to participate with the least amount of food needed, so Tommy piles his plate full of food that sounds healthy enough under the intent of sharing it with the younglings who are busy piling their plates over at the dessert bar.
He sees Eryn waving him over, so he stops by to gather up Clara and Henry before they can make a mess of the hot fudge machine and follows the Esempian. The nine of them head over to one of the sections on an elevated platform; it’s all open sofas and low tables before it in an L formation, all seating the Head Esempi Pack.
The first thing Tommy notes is that apparently everyone in the Pack has some sort of kink for hoodies. He counts a white one, two gray, two black, a red and even a neon lime green. Adding in Purpled’s purple one and Eryn’s gray one, he doesn’t think any of the members is wearing anything else, which makes him feel a bit better about his own cargo jacket with its hand-stitched patches and obvious oversized way it hangs on his frame, clearly meant for a larger wolf.
“Eryn! Oh, and Purpled! Look who finally showed up.” One of the two-legs in a black hoodie and white headband similar to Eryn’s glance their way.
“Don’t be rude Sapnap. We went to go pick up the Pogtopians.” Eryn huffs, shoving in between the newly deemed Sapnap, and the edge of the sofa. His packmate plucks at his crown amusedly.
Seven pairs of eyes swivel to stare at Tommy. He knows they’re taking in Micheal’s face, Clem’s limp, Henry’s skin.
Here’s the thing, no matter how hard Tommy tries, there is always going to be that little part of him that the former Alpha owns . It’s the part the compels his body to throw up when he tries to eat what he remembers is the normal amount for a wolf of his age; the part that wired his brain to go into fight mode when his instincts take over; it’s the part that sends his mind crashing back into that ditch anytime he thinks he fails. But that part of him is the same part that allows his tongue to flow like silver and for his gaze to sharpen when he’s in conflict.
Now, Tommy lets that part take over, let's scratch over his will and his heart so that it never touches the pups ever again.
He shifts on his hip, better adjusting Blue and tilts his head. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Tommy, the Head Alpha of Pogtopia Pack. Your packmates have been extremely kind.”
The she-wolf in the red knitted sweater smiles gently, “Oh no need for that. Any friend of Purpled and Eryn’s is a friend of ours. Here, come sit- Foolish, Punz, bring that sofa over, that’s right- alright, you’re alright, come on up.” She’s Puffy, the Head Alpha of the Esempi Pack- Tommy remembers her from the Summoning. The man sitting next to her- gray hoodie and green dyed hair- is Sam, her Second.
“Much appreciated.” Tommy says, before leading his pups up. Already used to them, Clara, Shroud and Henry flock to Eryn and Purpled the second they’re up, much to the clear surprise from the rest of their pack. Puffy- Tommy hasn’t known her long but he thinks she’s brilliant- makes quick work of introductions, then drags the conversation away from Tommy so that he gets a chance to breathe and take in the Pack. Not that he hasn’t already done so the moment he met them this morning, but the gesture isn’t taken for granted.
“Oh! Y’know what we found out today- Tommy, tell them about your pack-bond!” Eryn says suddenly, startling Tommy from where he was trying to coax sliced carrots into Blue.
With the full attention of the Esempi Pack, Tommy’s frantic to pull down the veil of the former Alpha. “It’s really not a big deal, it’s just something we can do but-”
“Wait, your pack-bond? What’s up with it?” Puffy looks…worried? Tommy doesn’t understand why her eyebrows are furrowed and she keeps glancing at Sam nervously, so he turns to Purpled in a silent request for him to explain.
“Yeah, his pack-bond is wild. He can project full thoughts, like full sentences and questions and requests and stuff down his pack bond. And then his pups can respond back the same way.” Purpled says from where he’s sitting next to Punz- the man in the white hoodie with chains around his neck. Tommy suspects they might be related.
“They’re not mine.” Tommy grits out, trying not to glare at Purpled. “I don’t own them.”
He really doesn’t like the looks the pack is giving him.
There’s an awkward silence before Foolish- another gray hoodie and green, gold flecked eyes speaks. “Tommy, sorry- you know that. That’s not good , right?”
“Pardon?” Tommy says in a tone that doesn’t imply he’s questioning Foolish’s statement at all. The tension is noticeable now, even the younglings have picked up on it. Tommy doesn’t miss how Clem and Micheal are positioned to grab them back in case Tommy needs to fight off all nine Esempi wolves at once.
“Tommy, you shouldn’t be able to do that with your pack-bond. The one we have, the one all the other packs have- it’s not supposed to be as literal as yours. It’s supposed to be more of a soul connection. It binds our emotions and our intentions.” Puffy says gently. Tommy’s cheeks flush- she’s talking to him like he’s a pup and not the Head Alpha of a Summoned Pack.
“I’m sorry, but you must be confused. We can’t do that at all.” Tommy explains. He focuses on keeping his claws retracted.
“You can’t…share emotions down your pack-bond?” Sam asks incredulously, “not even once? When did you get it?”
“Is that supposed to be rhetorical?” Tommy answers. The awed stares Purpled and Eryn had given him did not prepare him for this.
“When you killed your Alpha while your Pack was going through a mass genocide and mutiny?” George- the other black hoodie person- says flatly. Tommy can’t tell if he likes the man or not. Next to him, Dream- lime green hoodie, he must really love the Esempi colors, huh?- smacks his shoulder.
“Right. And yet, I still don’t see how being able to actually communicate down our pack-bond is a negative? It’s kept us alive, hasn’t it?” He’s really starting to hate the stares he’s getting, a mix of pity and shame and horror- it reminds him too much of the morning.
“Haven’t you been experiencing shifts? Hallucinations, or times where you can’t focus on your senses?” Sam asks.
Tommy thinks back to the flies swarming around his vision.
“No.” He says. Then, for good measure, he adds on, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
No one really seems to know what to say. In the end, it’s Sapnap who breaks the silence, though he seems hesitant. “Tommy, I know- knew one of the wolves from Pogtopia. His name was Karl-?”
Oh. Tommy nods. “I’m sorry. He was one of the archivists, um- they were all underground when the House was set on fire.”
“Karl’s always been so resilient, is there any way-?”
“I’m sorry.” Tommy says a bit more forcefully. It’s cruel to dash Sapnap’s hope like that, but those are his wolves. His dead wolves.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats a bit more gently, “if it’s any consolation he would have gone quickly. The structure collapsed in itself, he would have been crushed instantly instead of dying of asphyxiation.”
Dream drags Sapnap into his side when the wolf doesn’t reply.
“I liked Karl,” Clem finally says softly, “he was always kind when the rest of the camp was awful. I’m sorry you weren’t told when it happened.”
“Did you at least give him a burial?” Foolish asks.
A burial, not a Deliverance. Goddess Death, not Church Prime. Clem and Micheal, who are both old enough to remember Deliverances when they still happened, stare at him confusedly. Truth be told, Tommy was never able to relocate Karl’s body. The archives had been dealt with so much damage Tommy was sure Karl was cremated in the flames.
“We gave him a proper funeral.” He says stiffly.
“What do you mean ‘when the rest of camp was awful’?” Punz asks, directing the question at Clem. His eyes are sharp, intently focused.
“They’ve never been kind , what do you-” Clem starts to say before a voice interrupts them.
“Tommy! There you are!” Tubbo’s voice rings out. Tommy turns to find the Syndician along with Ranboo and Wilbur standing there, all of them dressed in their normal clothes instead of Syndicate blue. It’s a welcome interruption to the interrogation at the table.
“Hey, what’re you doing here? We were looking for you, come sit with us!” Tubbo exclaims, not noticing, or perhaps uncaring of the Esempi Pack all staring daggers at him.
“Tubbo! Ranboo!” Micheal cheers, bounding down. “Can I go with them, Mimi?”
“Oh, Goddess.” Purpled groans from behind them. Tubbo’s eye actually twitches .
“Everything alright, Tommy?” Wilbur calls, looking tense. Tommy would like to have a tad bit more control over the situation, but Micheal is already clamboring over the back of the couch and anywhere the older pups go, the younglings are sure to follow. Sure enough, Henry has already squirmed his way out of his seat and is stumbling after his brother.
However, he’s faced with a dilemma. If he goes with the Syndicate, he’ll surely have to encounter the red-eyed wolf again. If he stays with Esempi, then he’ll be forced to bear their prying questions, which will most likely dig up old memories that he’d rather not have the pups sit through.
But the red-eyed wolf…
Is not there. Tommy doesn’t say anything of it. It doesn’t really affect him either way.
There’s an odd tension with the Syndicate pack that wasn’t present when Tommy met them yesterday. Tommy thinks it has to do with the way Niki and Fundy won’t meet his eyes, or the way Phil’s smile seems perfectly bland.
Clem stays glued to his side, watching over the pups anxiously as Tommy talks pleasantries with the others.
He is well aware of the stares he is gathering from surrounding packs.
Phil has broken off, pulling Wilbur aside to talk in an undertone. Tommy shifts his gaze, tries to settle.
Tubbo is strange, he muses, Tubbo and Ranboo both, but more so Tubbo.
He rakes his gaze over Ranboo, clocks how the two-legs jerks away slightly. But Tubbo doesn’t, in fact he seems to lean forward, as if his very gravity is being pulled towards Tommy.
And that’s another thing, is that Tubbo seems to want to befriend Tommy. He keeps dragging Tommy into conversation with the rest of the Syndicate pack, even when Jack grimaces or Quackity’s smile turns strained. It’s too early to tell whether Tubbo is doing so with ulterior motives.
No harm to it , he figures. Tommy is strong, he knows he is. He reckons he could take Tubbo on in a fight. Beat him. Protect the pups.
“So, Tommy.” Tubbo is saying, “were you at the Acropolis last Summoning? Cause I don’t think I remember you, but also like, there were so many Pogtopia wolves, so-”
“No, I wasn’t. I had only come to the Summoning before last.”
“You were what? Six then?” The Alpha of the Syndicate pack speaks. Tommy has been trained well enough by Leon to pick up the tinge of embarrassment(?) that accompanies it.
“Yes.”
“With Fortuna.” Tommy’s Alpha. Before Leon, before everything went to shit.
“Yes.”
Tommy’s wolf snarls at the pity in Phil’s eyes, even as he inclines his head.
“I offer you my condolences, Tommy. Fortuna was a valued Alpha, and her reign was prosperous.” Here, Phil hesitates. Wilbur shoots him a look that doesn’t go unnoticed, by anyone really, and Tommy feels Clem step out from his side.
It’s a signal, one perfected from years of scampering astray from the path of other wolves so that they could make it to another day. The pups clock it instantly.
All of this happens in a blink of an eye, in the beat it takes for Phil to inhale and exhale.
“Tommy, if you ever need anything, anything at all, the Syndicate pack will always be open to you. If you’re ever in need of assistance, you can always find us. No strings attached.”
Assistance. Assistance?!
He needed assistance four years ago, when everyone he ever loved was torn from his grasp, when he was a tween trying to keep seven pups alive by himself.
He tries to focus on Phil’s face, even as the flies buzzing around his eyes blocks the other wolves from view.
“Your offer is appreciated, but not necessary. The Pogtopia Pack has been doing well since last Summoning. However, I look forward to strengthening our relations and working alongside the Syndicate, as well as the other Packs.”
Someone scoffs, but Tommy is focused on the way Phil frowns.
“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Tommy. It’s evident that the Pogtopia Pack is struggling, and I’m offering you aid without strings attached. Any sane Alpha would jump at the deal.”
The nerve.
“How about you worry about your own wolves? You’ve got two of your members who just found out that their friend’s dead, and you’re chosing to approach me? Let’s focus on our own problems, yeah?”
Fundy jerks, quickly looking away. Flies land on his shoulders, wings buzzing.