“You don’t know that,” Mahli protests. Her green eyes automatically drift to the tattoo that curls around Serim’s left shoulder and disappears under the back of her dress. Jerath looks too, with more than a little bit of envy. His own back is still bare, a wide expanse of soft, pale skin that’s ready and waiting to be covered with his own cat, whichever one it might be.
Serim’s tattoo is that of a sleek, black panther; the tail loops over her shoulder and comes to rest along her collarbone. The body spans the middle of her back, and the head—jaws open and teeth bared—sits at the base of her spine. The whole tattoo is black, except for the eyes. On Serim’s panther the eyes are a vibrant blue, standing out in stark contrast. Jerath hasn’t failed to notice how similar they are to Ghaneth’s eyes.
“How old is he now?” Mahli asks. “He must be nearly—”
“He’s eighteen and four months,” Serim interrupts, then immediately blushes when Mahli raises a knowing eyebrow. Boys usually get their fangs as soon as they turn eighteen. Jerath is nearly nineteen and is already getting teased by some of the younger boys. “It’s not like I’m counting or anything,” Serim mumbles, looking away.
Mahli laughs, and the sound rings clear and true throughout the forest. “Of course not,” she answers, still smiling. “Come on, you two. We’d better be getting back,” she adds, getting to her feet and holding out her hands to help Serim and Jerath up. “I have chores to do.”
“Can we shift and run part of the way?” Serim looks at Jerath with pleading eyes. “It’s such a beautiful day and I feel all restless.” Mahli nods in agreement and Serim bats her eyelashes. Jerath just smiles and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t really mind when they change; he’s just a little jealous he can’t. “Only for a little way, I promise,” she adds.
Jerath nods and turns away as the two girls take off their dresses. He’s seen the two of them naked plenty of times. They all grew up together, for one thing, and since Jerath doesn’t like girls that way, both Mahli and Serim are very liberal with their clothes around him. He just doesn’t like to watch when they shift. There’s something very personal and intimate about it and he’s so desperate to have that for himself, watching them makes it ten times worse.
He hears the soft growls behind him and slowly turns back. It never ceases to steal his breath away when he sees them—especially Serim. Her panther is big, coming up to the top of Jerath’s thighs. Sleek black fur covers her muscular body, and when she turns her head, her bright-blue eyes shine out at him. Mahli’s cat is a lynx, so totally opposite to Serim’s panther. She’s smaller than Serim. Her fur looks just as soft, but instead of black, it’s a pale-brown color, dotted with black spots and edged in white. Her tail is short, she has tufts of black hair on the tips of her ears, and her eyes are a lovely burnished amber. They’re both beautiful, and Jerath can’t help but be awed as they stalk toward him.
They curl around his legs, purring. The deep rumbling sound vibrates through Jerath’s hands as he strokes their flanks. Serim butts her head against his fingers and he scratches behind her ear. To an outsider, it would look like madness to pet a wildcat in such a fashion, but when the body shifts into this wild, untamed animal form, the mind remains the same. Well, more or less, from what the girls tell him. According to them, although they feel like themselves, there’s also a wild edge to it all that makes them more daring and adventurous than they would normally be. Jerath can’t wait to find out for himself.
They let him stroke them for a couple of moments more, and he buries his hands in their soft fur. “Go on, then,” he says and gives them both a pat on their behinds. “Show me what you’ve got.” Serim turns and growls at him. Even in this form she manages to look unimpressed. Jerath laughs. He wouldn’t be surprised if she rolled her eyes too. They give him one last look before bounding off through the trees and out of sight.
He walks over to their discarded clothing and reaches down to scoop it up. He folds their undergarments inside the dresses to try to preserve at least some of their modesty. With the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm, he heads back toward the village. It’s about a twenty-minute walk, but Jerath sets a leisurely pace, giving the girls time to play and get all that excess energy out of their systems. He can hear them, crashing through the woods with no thought to stealth, but he can’t see them through the thick trees.
He wonders how long he’ll have to wait until he can join them. Until he can shed his human form and really feel what it’s like to race through the forest with animal speed and careless abandon. He’s old, by his village’s standards, for an unchanged boy, but it’s not unheard of for a boy to be so late developing. There was one from the neighboring village who didn’t come of age until he was nearly twenty years old, but that was a very rare case and Jerath prays to the Goddess of the Forest that he won’t have to wait that long.
It’s not just the ability to shift that will come with his fangs—assuming he can perform the ritual, which is another concern entirely—but for the men it means improved strength and agility. Jerath isn’t weak; he works hard at his chores in the fields and around the village, and his body is lean and toned without any trace of fat. But he isn’t as strong as some of the other boys, and he is also clumsier than most.
It’s not just the younger boys who have started to tease him either. It’s not really malicious and most of them don’t mean any harm by it, except maybe Kyr. Although Jerath thinks that’s more to do with his friendship with Serim than anything else. At first he just laughed along with them, but the older he gets, the more it bothers him.
Jerath sighs and kicks at a large stone on the path in front of him. It skitters into the undergrowth and disappears from view, and he realizes the forest is suddenly quiet. He can’t hear Serim and Mahli anymore, and his spine bristles with anticipation. He’s almost outside the village now, and the girls will need to shift back and dress before they go any farther. They do this every time, but it still makes Jerath’s heart beat faster as he waits for them to pounce.
He stops and carefully places the clothes on a large rock off to the side. He turns in a circle, straining to look through the trees, but he can’t see or hear any movement whatsoever. They’ve gotten better at stalking him over the last few months.
“What are you waiting for?” he whispers into the silence, knowing they can hear him well enough. “I have chores to do too. Can’t wait around here all day for you two laz—” A huge black blurring shape flies out between the trees and knocks him flat on his back, winding him.
“Ugh! Stop that!” Jerath tries to push the black panther away as she purrs and licks his face with her huge, rough tongue. “Serim!”
Mahli’s lynx is right behind, and she comes up to snuffle at his ear. He’s laughing now, batting at them with his hands, but they’re far too strong to be moved if they don’t want to be.
“Enough! Enough!” Jerath splutters, and both cats finally back away and let him sit up.
He wipes at his face with his sleeve and glares at them. “You two are the worst friends ever,” he grumbles, but there’s no anger behind it. He loves it when they do this, and they all know it. “Now shift back and get dressed. We’re late enough as it is.”
Jerath rubs at his face some more, making sure to get all the cat drool off his skin as the girls hurry to get back into their clothes behind him.
Chapter 2
THE village of Eladir is nestled at the foot of the Arachia Mountains. The four peaks tower over the village and protect it from being attacked from behind. It’s a beautiful sight; the tops are covered in snow for most of the year, only thawing briefly during the summer months.
Jerath’s village is the largest in the surrounding area, with over three hundred people. The houses spread far out from the center, and each year they have to chop down a bit more forest to accommodate new families or new arrivals. The neighboring villages of Westril and Lakesh only number four hundred between them, so the Choosing ritual and many of the other rit
uals involve all three villages.
The girls, fully dressed and more or less respectable now, walk alongside Jerath as they enter the village. Jerath spots Ghaneth and some of the others chopping wood outside one of the smaller barns, and he pokes Serim in the ribs and points over at them. “Look.”
Ghaneth has his shirt off again, and Jerath has to admit he’s a good-looking boy. He can definitely see why Serim likes him so much. Serim, Mahli, and Jerath all stop to watch as Ghaneth hauls the axe high and swings it down in one easy movement, splitting the piece of wood cleanly in two. He piles the pieces next to him and then starts all over again.
“Wow,” Mahli whispers in awe. “He’s very strong.”
They all stare at the play of muscle across Ghaneth’s back, at the way he pauses and wipes the sweat from his forehead. Jerath grins widely when Serim’s breath catches and she licks her lips.
Ghaneth must feel them looking and turns his head in their direction, his eyes fixed solely on Serim. His gaze trails lazily over her from head to toe, and Jerath sees her blush when Ghaneth’s gaze settles on the tail edges of her tattoo. For a moment he just stares at it. A look of longing crosses his features before he snaps out of it and smiles softly, hefting his axe again and returning to his task.
“Serim.” Jerath tugs on her sleeve when he realizes she’s still staring. “Come on.”
Serim shakes her head and starts to walk. “Sorry,” she whispers, and Jerath reaches out to squeeze her hand.
“For what it’s worth”—Mahli nudges Serim with her shoulder—“Ghaneth will definitely be choosing you when it’s his time.”
“Yeah,” Jerath agrees. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”
Serim grins, casts one more glance in Ghaneth’s direction, and then hurries along with her friends.
THEY reach Mahli’s house first and she waves good-bye before disappearing inside. Jerath and Serim walk in silence until they arrive at Serim’s door. Her home is bigger than it looks from the front. The back extends farther out than some of the surrounding homes, and Serim’s mother is very proud of the extra space it gives them. The low roof is packed tight with rushes, and the slightly curved walls are smooth and well maintained. Jerath has spent many hours helping to keep it that way since Serim’s father died. They all have.
Serim reaches for the door and pauses as she turns to Jerath. “Are you coming in for a bit?”
He looks up at the sky. The sun is still bright, and he knows there’s a good few hours of daylight left—plenty of time to get his chores done. Besides, Kinis might have been baking, and she makes the tastiest bread in the village.
“Yeah, okay.” He reaches to open the door for Serim and steps aside to let her past. She snorts at his obvious display of chivalry as though it’s totally wasted on her, and enters the house. Jerath follows, smiling fondly.
They find Serim’s mother wrestling with a huge bunch of wildflowers and trying to find something to put them in. “Secret admirer?” Serim asks, smirking. Jerath hurries to take them from Kinis so she can search with both hands.
Kinis smiles her thanks at Jerath and then eyes her daughter before replying, a sly smile on her lips. “Definitely an admirer… only not so secret… and not for me.”
Serim groans loudly and Jerath instantly knows who the flowers are from. It’s Kinis’s turn to smirk.
“You know,” she begins as she wipes her hands on her skirt, “you could do a lot worse than accepting Kyr’s offer.” Serim tries to interrupt but Kinis holds up her hand. “His father is well respected in the village and it’s not a promise, Serim. You don’t have to marry the boy. Just accept the honor of helping him through this to find his animal form.”
Serim huffs but stays quiet. She glances at Jerath with pleading eyes and he shuffles uncomfortably. Both their fathers were killed in the raids over five years ago. Their families are very close as a result, and Kinis is like a second mother to him. Jerath knows her well enough to realize this is one argument he shouldn’t get in the middle of. He shakes his head a little, indicating that Serim is on her own with this one, and she shoots him her best death glare.
“You’re aware that every girl is expected to go through at least one Choosing,” Serim’s mother says softly, and Serim nods. Jerath can see the restraint on Serim’s face as she struggles not to scoff. According to Serim and Mahli, every girl from the age of ten knows this. The boys tend to find out a little later, but Jerath’s known how the ritual works since he turned fourteen. “He’s a good-looking boy, Serim. They might not all be as easy on the eye as Kyr.”
Kinis turns to fix her knowing eyes on Jerath. He fidgets and shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “Don’t you agree, Jerath?” she asks, and her tone forces him to look up and meet her gaze. His own mother knows of his preferences, but as far as he’s aware she hasn’t told anyone else. But Kinis is very perceptive, and it wouldn’t surprise Jerath in the least if she suspected he liked boys.
“I guess he’s okay,” Jerath mutters, and Serim elbows him sharply in the ribs. “If you like that sort of thing, that is.”
“What? Arrogant, mean, and full of sh—”
“That’s enough, Serim!” Kinis snaps. She appears less than impressed with the pair of them. Serim looks suitably ashamed, mumbles, “Sorry, Mother,” and Jerath decides this is the perfect time to leave.
“I think I’d better be getting back home.” He smiles apologetically at Serim. She shakes her head, but smiles too so he knows she’s not too mad at him for running off and leaving her.
“Yes, Jerath.” Kinis takes the flowers from him and places them on the table. “I’m sure Helan is wondering where you are.”
Jerath says his good-byes, arranges to meet up with Serim later—as long as they’ve both finished their chores—and slinks out of the house.
JERATH’S mother is outside hanging up washing when he gets home. They have a piece of thin rope tied between the side of their house and the large sturdy tree next to it, and Helan is busy laying the wet clothes over the line to dry. The afternoon sun is still warm and Helan wipes her forehead when she’s finished, a light sheen of sweat clinging to her brow.
“Jerath!” She smiles, walks over, and hugs her son. “How are the girls? Did you have fun down by the lake?”
He relaxes into her embrace and breathes in the comforting scent of orange and ginger. For just a second he can forget about everything else, and he holds on for as long as he can get away with.
“The girls are fine,” Jerath eventually answers. He steps back and follows his mother into their house. It’s not as large as Serim’s, but it’s just as well kept and Jerath loves it. “And yeah, the lake was good.” He sighs, remembering how Serim and Mahli looked in their shifted forms.
“Are you sure?” Helan stops and turns to look intently at Jerath’s face. “You don’t sound very happy.”
Jerath smiles at her. He doesn’t want her to worry, and even though he’s envious of them sometimes, he really did have a good time with Serim and Mahli. “No, really. It was fine.”
Helan raises her eyebrow, clearly indicating she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. Jerath sighs again, pulls out a chair, and slumps down into it. “They shifted on the way back to the village, that’s all.” He looks up at his mother and she smiles at him, but it’s tinged with sadness this time. “You know how I get sometimes.”
Helan comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Your time will come, Jerath. Have faith.”
“I know it will. It’s just, with me liking… you know… and the ritual….” He knows his mother will understand what he means without him having to spell it out.
Helan gives Jerath’s shoulders a squeeze and then moves around the table to sit opposite him. “Jerath….” She reaches out and takes his hands in hers. “I know it’s hard, and every day I wish your father was here because he would have been so much better at this than I am, but you have to trust th
at everything will be okay.”
Jerath’s heart aches at the mention of his father, especially when he sees the matching expression on his mother’s face.
“You’re not the first boy to have been in this situation and I’m sure you won’t be the last. But there hasn’t been anyone in the villages’ history who has failed to complete the ritual.”
Jerath squirms in his chair. How can he explain to his own mother that his biggest concern is getting hard enough to actually attempt the ritual? None of the girls in their village, or girls in general, do anything for him, and the prospect of embarrassing himself like that is something he tries very hard not to think about.
“But what if….” He feels his cheeks heat up, but swallows his pride and carries on. “What if I can’t?”
Realization dawns on Helan’s face, and Jerath wishes he could disappear under the table. “Oh, Jerath.” She squeezes his hands and smiles at him. “There are berries and potions that can help you with that.”
Jerath must still look skeptical because Helan shakes her head and sighs. “Do you remember Dalen’s coming of age?” she asks, and Jerath nods. Dalen was from Westril, just to the east of Eladir. “Well, I’m sure you know that he was about as interested in girls as you are?” She waits for Jerath to nod again. “And he completed the ritual just fine.” She grins then and winks at Jerath. “With the aid of a particularly potent lava berry potion, that is.”
Jerath’s cheeks are on fire now; discussing sex rituals and potions with his mother is one of those things that should be avoided at all costs. But at least he now knows he should be able to participate in his Choosing when the time comes, even if it does mean he has to use sex berries to do it.
“So I don’t want you to worry anymore, okay?”
Jerath promises to try and when Helan suggests he go and finish his chores over at the barn, he can’t leave fast enough.
The Choosing Page 2
