by Alana Hart
“Well, what do you need to know, dear? He’s clearly too thick headed to realize you need a chance to ask, so maybe I can answer at least some of your questions, and try to concentrate on getting just the answers only he can give out of him.”
I giggled softly at that. “You sound like you think he’s just an awful person.”
“Oh, no, not at all, I adore the little rascal,” she said with a warm, affectionate smile. “I am just not so besotted that I can’t see his faults and love him all the more. It’s our imperfections that knit us to one another; where one is weak, another is strong, and so are the bonds of societies made — human families and wolf packs alike.”
I smiled, the first unreserved and uncomplicated smile I’d felt in too long. “I like that.”
She nodded with mock severity. “Of course you do. Because I’m a genius that way.” She offered another playful wink. “So, your questions?”
“Well— uhm,” I tried to sort through my mental list for what was most pressing that she might be able to answer for me. “You say he wants me to be his… mate? How does that work? Is it like a human marriage?”
“Oh, no.” Her response was immediate and vehement. My heart sank. “Human marriage is barely more than a joke. Wolves mate for life. In all honesty, I think he’d chosen you back when you went to school together, but he kept denying it because he didn’t think you could be together. But his heart knew you even if his mind didn’t. Of course, he still doesn’t even recognize that himself. But I imagine that’s why he’s never shown any real interest in any of the females in the pack, or even in neighboring packs.”
My mouth fell open, feeling almost as stunned as when Bryson had become a wolf the night before. Wolves mate for life… chosen back in school… no interest in any others… Was that what had happened to me? Was that why, even long after he was gone from my life, the idea of even dating, let alone being in a relationship with anyone else, never held the slightest appeal to me?
She studied my expression adroitly, then nodded with a smug little smile. “You too, eh? Maybe your bloodline is stronger than Bernard thought.”
“B-Bernard?” I asked, still dumbfounded.
“My late husband. The one who confronted your father.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I couldn’t immediately think of any other questions to ask, either. That had pretty much shut up all the gibbering in my mind.
❖ ❖ ❖
Madge took my arm and led me over to the fire. For the moment, I didn’t even notice all the nudity. I didn’t notice much of anything. She probably could have led me right into the fire itself and I wouldn’t have noticed. My mind was too focused inward, churning over this new revelation, rearranging the pieces of my life for the last few years.
Of course, she had no such intentions. She led me to the ring of log-benches, and sat me down on the same one we had occupied before, settling beside me. While we watched, several of the men brought over more wood, throwing it onto the fire and the bed of embers. Before long, the fire was roaring so high that I was perfectly toasty on the log, where I had barely been able to feel its heat before.
I didn’t understand why they were building it up so much at first, until I saw the giant bundle of rebar that they skewered the boar on. Were they seriously going to roast the thing whole? Well, mostly whole. They’d dressed it, of course, and it looked like they’d taken a few cuts off of it first. But still, it was basically whole, and it was enormous. Sure, there were lots of people here, but that creature was big enough to feed at least twice this number.
Of people, anyway. Wolves are carnivores, aren’t they?
It took three men on either end of the pole to lift the thing, setting in on a stand others had set up. Some of the ladies were going into action now, retrieving coolers and folding tables from the vehicles. Some of the coolers held simple sides, like potato salad and enough corn on the cob to feed an army. Others had sodas. But the majority of them had an assortment of beers, and a box held various liquors as well. This was shaping up to be quite the party!
Once the boar was dealt with and roasting on its spit — and beginning to put out the most amazingly mouth-watering aroma — under the watchful eye of Elijah and several others, Bryson came bounding over to us. He really did seem rather like a puppy when he got excited.
He took a seat on my other side, just as he had before. Except, of course, this time he was naked. I tried very hard not to think about that, especially when he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his side. Despite the discomfort from his state of undress, I was happy enough to nestle in against his warm chest.
“So what do you think, Ada?” he asked cheerfully.
“I— I honestly don’t know what to think,” I answered, keeping my gaze up towards his face, being as truthful as I could. “I mean, this has been an amazing evening, and I’ve enjoyed it all, just—” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain even a fraction of how I felt. His nudity was not helping my coherence.
He frowned, looking rather crestfallen, but nodded. “It’s still a lot to take in. I understand. You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
I stared up at him, willing him to offer information, to ask me something; anything, really, besides just passively presenting this world to me and leaving me to decide on my own. I had some idea of what he wanted, what he intended, thanks to Madge, but he still hadn’t shared any of it with me himself. He really is thickheaded in some ways, isn’t he?
Eventually I gave up with a sigh, and just laid my head on his shoulder, watching the flames and the wild hog slowly turning on the spit.
❖ ❖ ❖
The boar, of course, despite the roaring fire, took several hours to cook. The time was mostly spent in good-natured teasing and cutting up by most of the pack, whether they were in wolf form or human. There was a near constant stream of stories — some truthful accounts, and others obviously tall tales even if they were couched as truthful — punctuated by a few songs from one person or another. There were a handful of very talented singers among them.
By the time the boar was nearly ready, I was almost willing to eat it even if it was still raw. There are few smells to get your stomach eager quite like pig roasting on an open fire.
When Elijah was satisfied that it was ready, someone produced a knife — a knife that Crocodile Dundee would have found impressive, the thing was nearly a sword — and cut a large chunk off onto a plate. I could have sworn they were cutting into the head, but the meat on the plate looked like any other pork I’d seen, though it had a richer, darker color than domesticated pig.
Elijah took the plate and brought it over to us, presenting it with a flourish that seemed very anachronistic. I was reminded again of a kingly court, and had to stifle a giggle. Bryson glanced at me, as if expecting me to take the plate, but when I didn’t, he took it himself, thanking Elijah, who simply nodded once, and stood there, apparently waiting for something. I realized belatedly that this had the feeling of a ritual again; another ritual of which I had no knowledge or understanding.
I quashed the remnants of the giggle, trying to look serious. Bryson took up a large bite-sized piece of the meat, and lifted it… to my lips. My eyes widened, startled, but I took the proffered bite. The flavor was amazing. It had a livery, gamey edge to it, but somehow that just enhanced the taste. It was absolutely exquisite. I focused on it quite fully while I chewed and swallowed, and only then did I smile first to Bryson, then Elijah.
“It’s totally amazing. Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do or say, but this seemed to satisfy them; Elijah let out three quick yips that sounded like they should have come from the wolf instead of the man. The somewhat scattered crowd all converged on the fire again, and the serving began in earnest.
Bryson, however, seemed fully absorbed with me, continuing to feed me bits from his hand. It was rather strange, but also very sweet in its way. He seemed entirely inten
t on me having my fill before he even tried it.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I finally asked.
“Of course. Once you’re finished.”
I tilted my head to one side, trying to think back about what I’d learned about wolves on nature programs and such. Pups eat first, then breeding females, and only then to the males and non-breeding females eat. Oh. Was this their version of a courtship ritual? Feeding the one they hoped to win over before they ate? Any deeper implications were lost on me, in the moment.
I smiled softly to him, and reached to the plate, grabbing a piece of meat. The corners of his mouth pulled down, his eyes a bit large, and I couldn’t decide if he looked annoyed or disappointed. Rather than eating it myself, however, I lifted the bite to his mouth with a shy little smile. He blinked once, then broke out in a radiant grin, taking the meat from my fingers gingerly.
After that, we continued to take turns feeding one another, lost in our own little world; the rest of the pack was just background noise.
❖ ❖ ❖
Once we had both had our fill, and the rest of the world began to come back into focus in my awareness, I noticed that many couples were engaging in similar feeding-each-other rituals. It had seemed like the right thing to do, and I’d guessed well, apparently.
Other couples, however, who had eaten more quickly, were engaged in other couples’ activities. My mouth fell open at such things being done right out in the open like that, and I quickly looked away, cheeks heating up again. Bryson chuckled softly at my reaction, and tucked me in more closely to his side. “The hunt, especially something as challenging as a big boar like this, tends to get us — ehm — excited,” he murmured to me softly.
“Yeah, I’d— I’d kind of picked up on that.” I couldn’t even look down, because, well, I’d be looking right at the evidence of his excitement. All the awkwardness and discomfort I’d felt earlier at the nudity was back.
Miss Madge leaned over towards me a bit, ‘rescuing’ me from the awkwardness yet again. “Do you have any siblings we should reach out to, dear?” The question was so unexpected that it jolted me out of all the discomfiture.
“Uhm, no. I mean, I have three younger sisters, but they’re my step-father’s. Just normal humans. As far as I know.” I felt like I kind of had to tack that last on, since up until three days ago, I thought I was just a normal human. Thought Bryson was just a normal human, for that matter.
Madge nodded softly. “Well, that’s something at least. I assume you haven’t had any contact with your father since he left?”
I grimaced, the old familiar ache twisting in my chest. “Not really, no ma’am. He sent the occasional card for birthdays or Christmas when I was little, but not even that in years. Lots of years.” I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry for him any more.
She reached over, patting my hand gently. “I’m sorry to bring up painful memories, dear. We needed to know, though.”
I nodded with a little sniff. “It’s okay, I understand.” Bryson held me close, trying to be supportive, and stroked my hair gently. Madge pursed her lips thoughtfully, then stood, wandering off without another word. I hoped I hadn’t offended her somehow.
We just sat quietly together for some time, watching the fire, each lost in our own thoughts. After a while, though, I began to yawn. I was not used to being up so late! It was certainly closer to dawn than dusk by that time, well past midnight.
“You can lay down if you want,” offered Bryson gently. I gave him a sleepy smile and nodded faintly. He scooted forward, pulling me with him, to sit on the ground in front of the log. I raised a brow, confused, but he patted his thigh. “Pillow?” he suggested. I could feel my cheeks grow hot yet again, and I bit my lip in indecision.
As if summoned, Madge returned then, carrying two blankets. With a roll of her eyes and a little huff, she half-unfolded one of them and spread it out over Bryson’s lap, making him laugh softly. “There. Go ahead and lay down, now.” She waited until I did as suggested, much more comfortable with the idea now that he was covered with the blanket. She then unfolded the other blanket, and tossed it out over me.
I smiled warmly up at her. “Thanks, Miss Madge.”
“Any time, dear.” She smiled in return, then wandered off again.
I lay quietly, staring sleepily at the flames in front of us, with Bryson gently stroking my hair. It didn’t take long before my blinking grew longer, and longer, until I just didn’t open my eyes again, drifting to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
It was right around dawn when I woke up; it was light enough to see, but the sun hadn’t broken the horizon yet, or at least not the treeline. I was stiff and sore from sleeping on the ground; I was chilly despite the blanket I was huddled under; and I was damp from the dew and the soft mist wafting through the meadow, collecting on the tall grass and turning it all into delicate crystal statues. The scent of roast pork, smoke, wet dog, and something musky I couldn’t quite identify were strong in the air; I’d probably have to wash this outfit at least twice to get the smell out.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, and took stock of my surroundings. Bryson was slumped over with his head at an awkward angle on the log-bench. The fire was still flickering a few sad little flames, but was mostly a big pile of ash and embers. With only a few exceptions, all the bottles, cans, and plates had made it into a couple of big black trash bags. There was no sign of the remains of the boar; of course, with wolves around, they had probably made off with the bones to gnaw on, I figured.
There were people — and a few wolves, still — scattered everywhere as well, some by themselves but mostly in clumps of at least two. I saw one pile near the fire on the far side that looked like it had to be somewhere around a dozen individuals, human and wolf both, all sprawled and tangled up together. It looked rather disturbing, arms and legs arranged seemingly at random, but somehow it seemed inviting, too.
I frowned a bit, trying to get my mind to wake up, to start working properly. I looked to the sleeping Bryson again, and suddenly I wanted very much to be at home, to curl up in my nice soft bed, and pretend the world didn’t exist for a while. Or at the very least, to sort through all that had happened, all that I had learned and what it meant for me. Not least of all was the fact that I had to learn so much of those things from his grandmother instead of from Bryson himself. As though he felt I had to want to be with him without any knowledge of what I was getting myself into for it to be valid or something.
I cared for him, even loved him I thought, but— well, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to play guessing games the rest of my life. That didn’t sound like a stable or pleasant basis on which to build a life.
I needed time to think. And I needed some sort of effort from him beyond ‘here it is, take it or leave it’.
I stood carefully, stretched a bit to try and limber up my stiff muscles, and began to pick my way carefully to my car. Between all the people and logs and coolers, it was something of an obstacle course, particularly since I wanted to stay quiet and not wake anybody up.
❖ ❖ ❖
I got maybe halfway to my car, before I heard heavy footfalls coming quickly up behind me. I could guess easily enough who it was— Bryson, of course, though I had thought I’d been careful enough not to wake him. I considered making a break for my car, but decided he was probably faster than I was, and I didn’t really feel like getting tackled or something equally dramatic in his attempt to try and make me stop. I kept walking, though; I wasn’t giving in that easy.
“Adalyn!” Bryson called in a sort of hissing whisper, trying both to get me to hear him while keeping his voice down. The effect was rather humorous, but I wasn’t really in a laughing mood. I also didn’t stop.
“Ada!” he called a little more loudly, and picked up his speed; in the space of a couple of heartbeats — while I was still quite a few feet from my car — he caught up to me, and grabbed my arm. Huh. Deja vu. Didn’t we do this yeste
rday?
“What is it, Bryson?” I kept my voice low as well, fighting to keep my tone from becoming too snappish. I wanted a long hot shower and a real bed; I would only realize later that my still-tired brain was too focused on those things to recognize a perfect opportunity to get some answers. I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp, but his hand may as well have been a handcuff for all the good it did me. A small corner of my mind noted that with his hair all messy from sleep and the confused and concerned expression he wore, he was really absolutely adorable.
“Where are you going?” he asked, sounding almost panicky.
“To get the nice young men in their clean white coats to come and take you away, ha ha?” I rolled my eyes. His lovely honey-brown eyes widened, and he started to open his mouth to protest, but I cut him off before he could say anything. “I’m going home, furbrain.”
