Wolf Teeth || Book I : Summer {M/M} ❄

Chapter #9

A week passed, and Oryen heard no word from his brother. Serove delighted in giving him tasks only reasonable for a fully turned werewolf to accomplish. Every day brought a new set of aching muscles, which only barely healed before additional pains were heaped on previous ones. He hardly slept, wary of another midnight hazing.

There were two silver linings to an otherwise brutal week. The first: Oryen could feel his body changing and growing stronger. Day by day, the wolfish fortitude he needed so badly continued to build and kept him on his feet.

The second: Aryeta visited him every day at lunch to see how he was doing. On one such visit, Oryen decided to ask what was keeping his brother so long.

"You wouldn't happen to know," he said after swallowing a bite of his chicken drumstick, "when my big brother's going to grace me with his presence again?"

Aryeta leaned forward and, with the back of her hand, wiped at the grease on his chin like a fussy mother. "You have a bit of chicken."

"Don't clean me up yet, I'm not finished eating."

"You'll still be hungry if half ends up on your forehead." She leaned back, tilting her head. "You mean he hasn't come to see you yet?"

"Nope. Figured he was busy."

The look Aryeta gave him wasn't pity. Not quite. But it was close enough that he had to avert his gaze. He didn't want pity. He just wanted answers. She sucked in her lower lip and nodded. "Well, he has been. There's trouble with the priests of Thenrir after that whole Kahleir attack, and the massacre at the Temple, plus there's the wedding between two of his allied packs: Nomoir and Zarkir. And I heard one of the rations shipments was raided by Kahleir too."

Oryen mimed a jet plane whizzing over his head. "Those are a lot of names I don't know."

Aryeta waved it off. "No big deal for us, but I bet it's keeping Lazro very busy."

She pursed her lips, watched him chew this over with a sympathetic tilt to her head. "You know, you could go to the wedding."

"What wedding?"

"The wedding I just told you about," she said impatiently. "The one between the two allied packs. It's tomorrow! The whole pack is allowed to attend, and it's a pretty big deal. Lazro will be there, and I bet there will be time during the reception to chat."

Oryen perked up at that. "I do like weddings," he said.

Aryeta clapped her hands together once. "Who doesn't?"

It was the largest wedding Oryen had ever attended. A tide of people spilled into the amphitheatre. It had been decorated with wreaths of pine boughs, holly berries and red cardinal flowers. Beeswax candles made the air fragrant with honey—a scent Oryen's newfound senses didn't find too pungent or cloying. Collar tags winked from the necks of every guest, painted with a slash of colour to denote their allegiance. There were plenty of golden stripes for Mardero, but Aryeta pointed out the red for Zarkir, blue for Qaelish, and very occasionally an evergreen for Nomoir.

Aryeta's eyes glittered with excitement. "I've never seen a turnout like this before."

"I don't imagine there are lots of parties in quarantine," Oryen mused. "Carpe diem and all that."

Aryeta squinted at him. "You've got a lot of funny ideas. Quarantine's been going on for twenty years. People get married all the time in here."

That was him told. "What makes this one so special?"

Aryeta leaned in conspiratorially. Oryen was suddenly aware that Aryeta's movements were mirrored by those around them. Everywhere, people leaned close to speak into one another's ears, their eyes skittering down to the amphitheatre stage where a bower of holly waited for the bride and groom.