Feral

Chapter Seven

         Lacey and Peter gawked at their new home. The white roof pointed to the clear sky. Four wood pillars held the bottom of the roof up. The old paint chipped and cracked along the wood panels, revealing the muddy brown color. Every window that she could see was frosted with a thick layer of dust. "It'll need some work," George admitted. He swung the door open, revealing the interior of the house.

         The inside was just as messy as the outside. The previous owners stacked the old furniture in the living room. Linen sheets covered the couch, chairs, a small round table, and an old recliner from the seventies. "That's an understatement," Lacey said as she looked into the kitchen. They toured the rest of the house with the same expressions. Lacey and her father made similar mental checklists of areas that needed renovations. Her room was small but homely. Light from the window illuminated dust particles. Her whole room sparkled when she dropped her boxes onto the wooden floors. "Jesus Christ! This bathroom is gross as fuck. How the hell am I supposed to take a piss?" Peter whined. Lacey rolled her eyes and handed him a spray bottle of cleaner from the counter, saying, "Then get to work. We are all on the same boat." He snatched the bottle and mumbled curses about cleaning, spiders, and an ugly pink toilet.

         Lacey scrubbed floors until her hands were raw and her thighs burned. She dropped the scrubber when a sudden knock pounded on their front door. "Hello? George? or Lacey?" Ylva called. The sweet smell of cherry pie seeped through their front door and Lacey's mouth watered. Ylva smiled as she entered the house. "I thought this would be a good time to bring over this welcome gift. I'm sorry about the state of this place. It's the most updated vacant house we have on our property. I can have Roman and the boys come over to assist you guys."Lacey quickly shook her head and declined, "No! Thank you. Uh, I appreciate the offer, but we will be ok. We've already made so much progress." She tossed her gloves into the trashcan in the center of the kitchen. Lacey had a feeling one of her boys was the wolf who attempted to attack Peter. "Also, thank you for the pie. It smells wonderful."

         "No problem." Ylva leaned against the counter, looking at the difference they made in such a short time. She whistled, "It is looking pretty good. I also figured this would be a good time to help you get settled in before you meet the rest of the pack. I know y'all might not be familiar with our customs, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask away."

         "Oh," Lacey stumbled with her thoughts. Where should she begin? What was the purpose of enforcing physical dominance? Why couldn't they manage human decency and civility like mature adults? She settled with a more pressing matter than her personal opinions. "Earlier, you mentioned a ceremony. Is there anything we need to prepare before the ceremony?"

         Ylva answered, "You did your part already, dear. You presented a fine offering for the pack. Tonight is more of a celebration. Bring as much energy as you have and be ready to fight. I left the address on the bottom of the pie dish. Feel free to call me or Edna if you have any additional questions. Goodbye!" She gave Lacey one last toothy grin before leaving. Lacey pressed her fingers to her nose bridge and exhaled in frustration.

         Pact structures between werewolves were generally universal. The Villalobos presented their initial offering to enter pack territory, but they were not accepted into the pack as permanent members. Lacey and Peter still had to win over a majority of the pack. "Tonight will determine if we can officially stay," George explained. They were likely to be accepted as long as they fought valiantly during the ranking ceremony. "But we did all that work to fix up that shitty house," said Peter. "My ass hurts, back hurts, legs hurt, and I think I permanently singed my nose hairs from all that bleach!"

"If you both fail, then you won't be able to participate in pack activities. That is partially why we live on the outskirts of their neighborhood."