Marcus's Point of view

Wood smoke and incense, intended to symbolize stability and tradition, permeated the council room. I was aware of nothing except the strain that clung to the atmosphere. Trying feebly to stem the reforms I'd been instituting, Elder Calloway rambled on about pack custom while I occupied the head position at the enormous table with hands locked together.

Calloway continued, "Alpha," his voice dripping with disapproval, "we must remember that not all that appears to be progress is good progress. The pack has lived for a number of generations by sticking to its old ways.". I took a deep breath with an impassive face. "The ways of...