The showdown Otto had been dreading showed up two days before he was supposed to leave for Moonrise Academy.
It began with patrols reporting Blackwood wolves crossing into Moorland territory, this time not just scouting: an actual hunting party of eight wolves, striding in like they owned the place near the contested Copper Creek.
The Moorland response squad, led by James himself, numbered twelve. Otto wasn't meant to be part of it, but when the emergency call rang out, his Omega instincts pulled him in from behind, warning that this clash could tear apart everything his family had worked to build.
When he got to Copper Creek, two packs faced off across a roaring mountain stream, some thirty feet wide, with centuries of territorial rules acting as invisible lines between them. The tension hung heavy enough you could slice it, radiating raw focus and barely restrained aggression from both sides.
"Alpha Blackwood," James called out, voice firm and official. "You're trespassing on Moorland land."
Blackwood's Alpha was a big, imposing man in his forties, the kind whose presence could hush a room and demand obedience without raising his voice. His pack flanked him like a wall of muscle, perfectly sealed ranks.
"Moorland," the Blackwood Alpha replied casually, almost like they were just chatting. "Nice day for hunting, huh? The deer here are thriving."
"The deer on this side of the creek are under Moorland protection," James responded carefully, "just like they've been for forty-three years."
"Funny how old agreements sometimes lose their value," Blackwood mused. "My pack's grown a lot lately. We need more hunting ground to feed them all."
Otto felt the emotions crackling between the packs: the controlled fury of his father, the confident aggression radiating off the Blackwood wolves, and his own pack's fear masked as righteous outrage.
Someone was about to throw the first punch. Someone was gonna get hurt. And once the blood hit the ground, the fight would escalate into an all-out pack war that no one could stop.
Then Otto stepped out from behind the trees.
"What if there's another way?"
Both packs whipped their heads toward him with stunned silence. James's face drained of color, horror written all over it, while Alpha Blackwood regarded the young Omega with genuine curiosity.
"Otto," James growled, teeth clenched. "Get back."
"Wait," Blackwood raised a hand, eyes fixed on Otto. "Let the boy talk. I'm always up for hearing fresh ideas."
Otto's knees felt like jelly, but he pushed himself forward toward the creek, every survival instinct screaming to run. But watching his family edge toward disaster? That wasn't an option.
"Alpha Blackwood, you said your pack needs more hunting ground because you're growing. That's about managing resources, not stealing territory," Otto said, voice steadying as he found solid ground in his research. "The Moorland pack has records of deer migration patterns going back fifty years. We know exactly when and where herds move through our lands."
"Interesting," Blackwood said, though his warriors looked less impressed by talk and numbers. "And you think this info is... useful?"
"I believe it could form the basis of an agreement that works for both of us." Otto pulled out his phone, bringing up the data he'd spent months compiling. "The deer follow seasonal routes: spring in the northern ranges, summer breeding in the high meadows, fall migrations down the valleys. If we coordinated hunting schedules..."
"One pack hunts when the other steps back?" growled a Blackwood warrior, sneering.
"Exactly," Otto answered. "Both packs could improve their hunting success and avoid clashes. My research shows that by rotating hunting seasons and areas, we could increase deer yields by thirty percent for everyone involved."
The Blackwood Alpha studied Otto with new interest. "You actually did research on this?"
"Extensive analysis on prey behavior, territory limits, and sustainable hunting across a dozen packs." Passion edged into Otto's tone. "I can show you the numbers."
For twenty minutes, Otto stood ankle-deep in the cold creek, explaining migration maps, hunting rotations, and ways to prevent conflict using detailed charts on his phone. Two alpha wolves listened (powerful enough to tear him apart without a second thought) as if it were the most fascinating game of strategy.
Blackwood asked genuinely thoughtful questions. James looked torn: pride battling fear. Slowly, the hostility melted into curious conversation.
"This is impressive," Blackwood finally said. "You're proposing a resource-sharing deal, based on science, not old territorial grudges."
"I'm saying cooperation will benefit us all more than fighting," Otto replied. "The math supports it."
"And if I take you up on this, what keeps Moorland from breaking the deal?"
Otto glanced at his father, then back at Blackwood. "It wouldn't make sense. This benefits us all. Breaking it would only hurt everyone."
Blackwood chuckled: a rare, genuine laugh. "You've got guts, kid. Alpha Moorland, your son knows his stuff."
"He's thorough," James gave a small, grudging nod.
"I want to review these patterns more closely. Let's set a formal meeting to nail down the details," Blackwood said, the tone all business now. "This young man might just have found a win-win."
Two hours later, both packs retreated from the creek with a shaky but hopeful agreement to explore Otto's sharing proposal. No blood spilled. No lines redrawn. What threatened to rip apart the Moorland pack was now something they'd escaped through negotiation and data.
Walking home through the forest, James was quiet: a rare thing.
"You're not mad?" Otto asked, hesitant.
"I should be. You defied orders, put yourself at serious risk, and interrupted a delicate moment." James stopped, looking his son in the eye. "But you also prevented a war we probably would've lost."
"The research was solid. The plan was sound."
"Brilliant," his father said quietly, almost awestruck. "I've been so focused on your limits, I missed your strengths. You don't think like a fighter. You think like a diplomat."
That night, packing for Moonrise Academy, Otto reflected on the day. For once, his Omega nature was a gift, not a curse. His mind and heart had stopped bloodshed and maybe saved the pack.
Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for the old pack way.
Or maybe that's exactly what this world needed: wolves who build bridges over walls, who don't just point out problems but find real solutions.
Three days until Moonrise Academy. Three days until he'd find other wolves who believed strength could come from kindness, leadership from service, and peace was worth fighting for.
Otto Moorland was ready to find his real pack.