The North Pack (editing)

5 - The Welcome (edited)

Jax had had the good sense to leave me alone in the room after our argument. He had made some vague reference to planning or something - I wasn't sure, I didn't listen - and he left. I stayed and stewed in my anger. At least, for the first hour. After that I was just annoyed. And then I was so bored I was counting the tassels on the floor rug.

      It was about the time that I was beginning to angry again - this time out of frustration more than anything - that Jax returned. He knocked first, nearly making me jump out of my skin. 

      "Hey," he said, as if speaking to a child. Confusion clouded his features as he examined my position on the floor, the white rug clutched loosely in my hand.

      "You're back." His height was even more exaggerated from the ground.

      "Yes. We're all finished up in the hall." He stepped over me and sat down on the bed. There was a groan as he eased down on it, sighing all the while. His eyes carried dark circles that I could have sworn they didn't before.

      "For food?" I asked, hopeful.

      He frowned. "Is that a joke?"

      "What? No."

      His face shifted and he looked even more weighed down with tiredness. "Mina, I told you about this."

      A building sense of dread sat low in my stomach. "What are you on about?"

      "The Welcome? We talked about it right after you came back?" His voice held an exasperation, a limit to is patience was surfacing. I stared back at him blankly. He sighed. "It's a customary event, to celebrate the future Luna coming home."

      I didn't know which was worse: the idea of spending the night celebrating my own capture or the fact that I would soon be Luna of this place. Both made me feel ill. Before I could even open my mouth, Jax spoke again, "And yes, you do have to attend."

      "Can't I just make an appearance, grab some food, and then come back up here?" I said, although even I wasn't convinced that Northern wolves were worse company than the banality of an empty room.

      Despite himself, he gave a weak chuckle. "No. If you think I'm strict, you'll love my parents."

      It may have been an attempt at a joke, but it served only to deepen my fears about this event. "How long do I have to stay?"

      "An hour," he said. "Maybe two."

      I groaned. "Can I wear this?"

      He looked down at my mismatched fur boots, leggings, and coat with a raised eyebrow. "Something similar."

      "Liar."

      "I don't lie."

      "Exactly what a liar would say."

      And that's exactly how I ended up in a knitted floor length red dress that was apparently similar to my original outfit as a result of the band of fur that lined the off-the-shoulder neckline. Jax had dressed himself in dark brown pants and a beige-coloured top, both made from what looked to be a dyed linen.

      "Why do you get to wear that and I have to wear red?" I asked, mostly to stall.

      "It is tradition," he responded simply. I had a feeling I was going to hear this a lot around here. "And because the focus and attention should be on you. They already know me."

      "I look a mess," I grumbled, looking at my reflection with distaste. It seemed the traumas of the past few days were showing and the results were not favourable.