Silverblood

Feast

If someone, a couple of months ago, had told me "You'll sit among werewolves to eat the meat you procured, and you'll enjoy it," I would have laughed my throat raw, questioning their sanity.

But here I was. Walking along the path that would take me to the main bonfire, where a big cauldron was enveloped by flames. Steam erupted from it, and the sound of something boiling resonated through the otherwise silent evening. Silent, even though a hundred of werewolves were watching me take step after step. I could feel their gazes everywhere, on the exposed skin of my face, of my arms, of my neck. But it wasn't unpleasant. I did not feel threatened. Because this was a feast in my honor. And they were honoring me. When I passed, fingers touched foreheads and then cheeks. Some faces I recognized, others I didn't. Like Grace's, who was standing a few feet away from me, like Robert's, who watched me with kind eyes. I kept my stride steady, even if my legs were slightly trembling. My wolf, on the other hand, was basking in the attention we were receiving. She was standing straight, tall, proud. And I let her. This felt like a moment of closure, for her and me both. An epiphany of the years we spent in each other company. We had been distrustful of others for so long, having only had each other to rely on, that it felt impossible to be surrounded by so many of our kind. But it wasn't. Because the Silverblood pack gave us hope. Hope that we could still belong, if we wanted to. And belonging had started to sound not so unappealing, after all.

I kept walking. By now, only a few feet separated me from the bonfire. And the figure standing in front of it. Cast in shadowy light, the Silverblood Alpha looked menacing. But there was a softness in the blue of his eyes, a softness that made my skin warm all over. And made my heart skip a beat. Through the flames I could see Nora, Cameron and Sean standing on the other side of the bonfire, but my attention was solely on Hercules. The circles under his eyes had vanished, leaving his irises resplendent of their beauty. And I wondered...I wondered how it would feel, to sleep alone in the cabin that night. But before I could let myself think of it, two Elders appeared from behind the bonfire, hands carrying a ball of fur each.

My pelts.

One dark brown, the other russet.

I halted in front of them, my boots falling silent. The crackling of the fire kept me conscious of the passing time as I observed the two wolves. Females, with grey streaked hair and lines on their faces. They said no words as they showed me the pelts. I tried to mask the trembling of my hand as I caressed them, starting with the pelt of the mountain lion. The fur was bristly but shiny, no traces of blood coating it. The bear's one was soft and thick, my fingers disappearing through the strands. I took the risk of looking up, and hazel met blue. I knew Hercules hadn't missed my hands shaking- he was too much observant for that. But he offered me a small bow of his head and my fingers stilled. There was nothing to be nervous about. I had done it. I had won. I had saved a member of the pack. I had procured the meat to feed said pack for tonight.

Me.

A wolf born human. Pack-less.

My fingers weren't trembling anymore when the two Elders took the pelts away. My spine was straight, and my head held high. No more fear of judgment, not when the pack had gratitude and respect in their eyes while looking at me. Not when Hercules' eyes were searing into me like a brand. Not when he brought two fingers to his forehead and then to his cheek. Not when the whole pack followed. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyelids as the breath left my lungs. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried, but it wouldn't be today. Even though my bare soul wanted to break into sobs and tears and cry out to the sky. Because this moment, this moment, truly felt like closure.