With Lena's help, it only takes me five minutes to get dressed. Though my hair is now woven with bright Lilly petals and my skin painted in soft hues of blue, my friend was quick and efficient, her grin practically manic as she finished. Now she grasps my hand and leads the way as we hurriedly scurry under the cover of night towards the North fields.
Around us, the world teems with the excitement and energy only an event like this can bring. Hordes of my fellow pack members walk in groups of friends and families, some laughing or singing, some females whispering to each other as they straighten each other's skirts. Every female is outfitted in a similar style of satin or raffia in a rainbow of colors. The smell of cooking meat and spicy incense drifts along the warm night breeze, almost humid in the warm dark heat. Lights sparkle from every tree.
I am carefully to keep my eyes low and my hair down around my shoulders so as to create a shield from curious eyes though no one seems to pay us any kind as we make our way. Though there are few males, the further we move the more strangers surround us, foreign wolves with unfamiliar ways, who have sat foot on our land. It is easy to spot them: though many of them are also bare foot, some are dressed in plain blue jeans and rugged shirt sleeves while others are dressed in gauzey dresses and shirts made of material as sheer and lightweight as a feather. Some speak in harsh or lilting languages neither Lena or I would understand though their fellow pack members (who they never seem to stray far from) seem to understand well enough as they laugh and look around with wide eyes, taking in my home and it's vast wild lands. There are some, I notice, whose gazes are more removed, some even cold or calculating as they take in the world around them and the unfamiliar wolves inhabiting it.
I tense as an older male (at least forty years) moves his steely eyes onto me through the swarms of people. Though his idle curiously lasts only a moment before moving on, I find I am trembling, suddenly studying the sturdy foreboding bands of muscle encircling the male's legs and biceps. He is not one of our pack members but it is clear he is a warrior for that which he is sworn to. He has no reason to suspect me or my shameful secret yet I can not stop wondering if he somehow knew, if I am oblivious as everyone I pass stares daggers, ready to sink their fangs in my jugular.
My heart is pounding so loudly I can feel it's beat in my ears by the time we reach the North fields. It is just as Ethan described: an endless mountain valley stretching miles and miles of long green grass and hard packed earth imprinted with the feet and paw prints of thousands who have already passed. Interspersed between huge white tents open to the sky are massive bonfires burning in brilliant tones of ruby red and moss green which young pups have already begun to dance around while holding hands. On erected stages of oak wood stand musicians playing guitars, violins, and flutes. I turn to see it was not my own pulsing heartbeat but that of the massive deerskin drunks booming in time with a dance I do not know, reverberating throughout the whole clearing. Overhead, the sky has faded to a spectacular vision of blood red and shadow as the sun finally sinks below the horizon, bathing the world in darkness and firelight.
And everywhere, EVERYWHERE, there are people. Hundreds upon hundreds, if not thousands. Never have there been so many strangers on our lands. Never has there been such a grand celebration as this.
The pull within me yanks tight and I swallow. I am both thrilled and nauseous.
"Lena- perhaps this was a bad idea." It has already been twenty minutes since Mama left the hut. Papa could be anywhere among these wolves. If he finds me here there will be no end to his rage. Perhaps this was a mistake-
"Too late now" Lena replies easily. She is grinning ear to ear and practically drags me into the crowds. Older females from our pack wander through, bestowing flower crowns and garlands of wisteria and baby's breath. Nearby, a newly mated couple dances so provocatively (grinding into each other's hips as if determined to mate despite their clothes) Lena and I respectfully turn away. Displays like this are normal on our lands. They both wear jeans and flannel tops. The curious wolf in me wants to stop and ask what pack they hail from and how far they traveled, if they belong to the pack run by the mysterious Alpha who demanded all of this take place.
Instead, I allow Lena to drag me to the heart of the largest crowd. Despite the swell of warm bodies and constant movement, I am comforted; there are so many different scents floating on the air my nearly indistinguishable one will make it almost impossible for anyone to find me.
If anyone is searching for you, My mind whispers. My thoughts flicker not to Ethan or Papa or Mama but instead the two males who grabbed me days ago.
Dead by Beltane.
This is your one chance, my brain argues. Nothing like this will ever happen again. Live your life before they take it from you.
Stubborn, I shove the two warring sides of my conscience aside and focus on my surroundings. A laugh escapes as Lena grabs my hands and spins me into her arms, our hips moving with the beat of the drums. This dance is from our own pack and while others struggle or make up their own moves in sync with the beat, Lena and I move with perfect grace, our feet light as they slide across grass and earth. We raise our hands above our heads as the music swells and I notice from the corner my eye we are receiving more than one appreciative glance. It feels so strange to see others smile at me with approval instead of turning away in disgust.
Lena grabs two mugs of ale from a passing server and hands me one as she swallows her's in three large gulps. She reaches for another and I laugh. "You will be positively sick tomorrow."
"That is why we must live for today, my dear Ellie!" She cries joyfully. "No one will ever know how much time they have upon this earth!"
Especially me. But I don't say that. Instead I swallow every drop of my own mug and allow her to pull me back into the dance.
It is hard to say how quickly the times passes. Every minute feels both like a second and an hour. Lena and I dance until our feet are sore, drinking far more mulled wine that our systems will likely be able to endure. Foreign pack members approach us to introduce themselves over the noise, resulting in Lena dancing with one or two females a few years our elder. A few kind females make small talk with me as we dance and (though my heart pounds the entire exchange, waiting for them to pounce) I learn they have traveled over five hundred miles to reach our lands.
"What a journey!" I reply, in awe. I have never once left our pack lands. "We hope you feel welcomed and well received on our lands." It is a saying I have heard Luna Bianca use many times and I try to replicate her kind, regal nature.
One of the females giggles, fighting intoxication. She is a pretty young thing with heaps of red curls and jade eyes. "If you keep pouring that ale I fear we will never leave!"
In the distance, two sharp blares of a horn sound. Despite the music, laughter, and chatter, the sound is loud and foreboding enough that every head turns to follow the noise.
"What does that mean?" One female calls to Lena, who has just returned, and I. "The horn?"
I look to Lena. I have never heard that particular trumpeting before. Usually the only times we hear horns blaring is to announce an arrival or a summoning of the entire pack. Neither has happened more than four or five times in the last six or seven years.
Lena looks just as confused. "I'm not sure. Perhaps there is an-"
But suddenly the crowds are moving. Around us the sea of wolves ripples like a forceful wave, forcing Lena and I to move as the crowds begin moving towards the sound of the noise. Surrounded by hundreds of strangers pushing in from all sides, unable to escape the swift current of the crowds feet, I turn to Lena, panic stark in my eyes.
"We can't go!" I begin trying to weave through the maze of bodies but am caged in. There are too many people moving too quickly and they jostle me, nearly knocking me off my feet. They are all moving towards the thick wilderness at the edge of the fields. I study the dark twisted trees, their impenetrable thickets and canopy overhead.
Suddenly the cord within me, the unnameable connection to SOMETHING, yanks- hard. I gasp, struggling for air as something like anxiety or apprehension curls within my chest cavity. Though the crowds are forcing me forward, it feels as though I am a magnet frozen in place, instinctually pulled towards a goal I will never reach.
Mama, I think. It must be Mama.
How long has it already been? Has she arrived early to the hut only to find I am gone? Has she already alerted my father and Ethan? Whatever event is taking place, I can not be apart of it
I begin struggling against the crowds in earnest. "Lena! We have to g-"
But Lena is not there. For a moment I can only stare, mouth agape, at the spot Lena was, just slightly behind me to the left. But now she has vanished. I spin around in a quick circle, eyes wild with panic as I desperately search for my friend.
"Lena!" Now I am frantic. I am a sheep surrounded by wolves and I am alone. Up ahead, the dark expanse of forest (acres and acres of towering trees and twisting thickets) looms ever closer. It is now that I notice everyone around me is female. Though age seems to range anywhere from sixteen to early twenties, there is suddenly not a single male in sight, whether brother, father, friend or mate.
Somewhere in the distance the horn blows again. Where is Papa? Where is Ethan?
And suddenly I remember: every unmated male will be occupied tonight, though both Ethan and Papa adamantly refused to tell me why or what it is they will be doing. Did they have to be separated from the females? But why? I remember what Lena said about the mysterious Alpha who demanded all of this take place so he could search for his mate. Has every unmated male been put aside so the Alpha will be able to find his mate with ease? Are we to be presented to him?
My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. Something hard is lodged in my throat as I stand on my tiptoes to peek over the crowds to try and spot what is ahead besides the forest. Why are there no lights or shaped mirrors hanging? Compared to the vibrant and festive atmosphere of the fields, the forest looms intimidating and ominous. There is something about the pitch black darkness that pulls at something in the back of my brain, a memory that flits away as soon as my mind reaches for it.
Finally I spot two males, though they are older and certainly already mated, with pups as well. Each stands stock-still, their bulging arms behind their backs as they look on over the crowds, completely expressionless. I watch as the first of the females leading the crowds reach the two males. There is a small exchange and then the females nod before bending at the waist, silk and satin ripping apart as they begin to Shift into their wolf, fur and fang sprouting.
Seeing this, other females begin to Shift as well. All around me, females are suddenly surging forward, bursting forth from long skirts and lacey dresses, prideful, beautiful beasts as they yip and bark to each other, coats shining in colors of rich burgundy, dusty gold, pure black. At the front of the crowds, the first of the females plunge into the woods, taking off as fast as they possibly can, though each heads off in a separate direction. As more and more females take off into the woods, I hear distant howling, some female, many definitely male.
Dead by Beltane…
The first night of Beltane…
Something is happening and if I don't escape it, it will result in my final breaths. I think of the nightmares that have been plaguing me for so long, the all-consuming terror as I am chased and hunted down. Have they all been warnings of what is to come tonight? My brutal and bloody demise?
In the distance I can still hear the beat of the drums from the festival, almost smell the spiced wine. It feels like eons ago that Lena and I were dancing, laughing and swaying as if neither of us had ever known something to fear. Now it is all I know.
"Lena! Lena!" I have to get out of here. I don't know what waits on the other side of those trees but I know if venture into them death will be waiting to greet me like an old friend, long expecting my company and annoyed at having to wait so long for it. I turn and begin forging my way through the crowds in the opposite direction but am again accosted by the swell of bodies and energetic movement. The crowds are pushing forward too quickly. Though I'm making progress, it will not be fast enough to weasel out before I am pushed to the front before the two males and the darkness of the trees.
Changing tactic, I instead turn to the right and edge my way through the groups of Shifting females, fighting through the twist of limbs and tails. Neither Lena nor my mother are anywhere to be seen. My heart is slamming headlong into the wall of my chest, restricting the air flow to my lungs as I try to calm my frenzied panic.
Just keep moving. No one is watching you. Just make it back to the hut.
But still I am not moving fast enough. Directly ahead are the two males guarding the forest's entrance, their sharp eyes raking over every female, their keen senses searching for signs of danger or threats. Possibly even resistance. Will they chase after me if they catch me slipping away? Will they drag me back and throw me into the forest? Or will they sense my weakness and kill me themselves? Is that what this is? Are they hunting for pack members like me who can not Shift, who are all but human and practically worthless in the eyes of their betters?
I will not stick around to find out. I finally manage to break away from the crowds only to find myself almost directly before the two males, only one turn of the head away from seeing me escape-
Without thinking I take off into the woods to the right, ducking into the camouflage of the darkness and trees, leaving the crowds and fields behind. My feet thud against the hard earth as I run and I try to control the ragged gasps that are my breaths. If I can just keep running in this direction at the edge of the tree line I can circle back, completely avoiding whatever mayhem is set to take place-
But I am not the only one in these woods. All around me females are taking off into the trees and even though many of them head in the opposite directions, some spring right towards my path, causing me to duck and fly even further into the foliage like a startled rabbit. All around me there are howls and grunts echoing throughout the night, more frenzied and more desperate than I've ever heard. My heart wails with dread and fear as I trip over twisting roots and cruel rocks with their sharp edges, cutting at my feet and legs as I stumble. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gasp and cry out in pain; I am far too consumed with the instinct of survival than my own ego.
It is now that I notice I have stumbled farther than I meant to. I stop in my tracks, chest heaving, as I spin around, horrified to realize I have lost my way. Neither the tree line nor the North fields are anywhere in sight. All there is is endless ink-black forest. Why is it so dark? My eyes, normally so sharp and vigilant, are blind to my surroundings. My heart is pounding too loudly for my to rely on my keen hearing; all I can hear is the rapid slamming of my heart against the frail bone of my ribs. My sense of smell is the last arrow in my quiver of instinctual tools to help guide me from this peril.
I take a deep breath, trying to ease my lungs from their restrictive bonds as I inhale through my nose: warm, wet earth, the rich smell of pine. And everywhere, EVERYWHERE, there are the scents of strangers- enemies, dangers. I can hear them distantly, hunting through the trees and underbrush, wild with a primal desire I can not name. Their claws scrape against the ground, their massive shoulders shoving aside stones and fallen tree limbs. They are of my kind and yet-
My eyes fly open, a scream stuck in my throat as I fall back onto my rear, crawling backwards as if I can escape this reality. The trees sway, the thick trunks of their bodies closing in around me as my lungs fight for air. My nightmare has finally come true, clawing itself from the deep-rooted terror and isolation of my subconscious to stand before me incarnate as the end of my fate.
Dead by Beltane…
The first night of Beltane…
Those two males had known that day. They knew whatever this is would end in a wolf wandering across my path and slaughtering me. Ethan and Papa knew. They knew these woods would be crawling with males and females alike, Shifting and hunting for something.
No, that is not quite right. In the distance my ears prick as I hear what sounds like a female crying out before the sound of a booming growl. Not far off, I hear another female tearing through the underbrush, something heavy and furious right on her heels. The females are being hunted this night. But why? Is this why the males had to be separated from us before the festival? And why on earth would they be hunting US? We are all of the same blood under the Goddess's eye and it is considered one of the most heinous crimes to kill another of our kind without very, very good reason. This was supposed to be a festival. What turns could it have taken to have us wind up here?
Lena. Through my haze of terror and panic my mind flashes to Lena, my only friend, my only companion. Is she somewhere here in these trees, running for her life? Or is she somewhere in the North fields, left behind because (unlike me) she is a true member of our kind? Have all the other females in these woods committed some kind of unforgiving crime?
My feet begin moving again on instinct. Despite my bloody soles and bruised toes, I stumble along, determined. They will not catch me. I will not give them that satisfaction. But vertigo and déjà vu are currently my biggest adversaries (aside from the darkness) and my movements are sluggish. My thoughts somehow feel both razor sharp with fear and as thick as fog, a tangled mess of half-baked plans and mournful suffering as I think of Mama and Papa, who must be beside themselves. In the corners of my mind, the memories of my nightmares linger and curl forward seductively to twist and warp them and reality until I can no longer tell which is which.
Perhaps this is all a nightmare, perhaps my most realistic one yet. Perhaps none of this is real and I will wake up any second now-
To my left, birds suddenly startle and take off with a shrill cry into the night sky. The sounds of branches snapping and bushes being ripped aside reach my sensitive ears but I do not need their sensitivity for the racket is loud enough to shake the ground as animals burst forth from their dens, taking off across the earth as if their lives depend on it. Based on the booming growl echoing from the darkness, it seems as if they do.
So shaken am I by the vicious noise (a brutal, savage sound that vibrates through my being beneath blood and bone) that I stumble once more and this time when my knees painfully strike the earth, I do not get up.
There are very human screams far off in the trees.
This is not a nightmare. This is real.
Run! Run! My mind screeches but my body is not as strong as my will. My legs are bruised and bleeding. My feet are cut and I have broken several small toes. I press my hands to my pounding heart, trying to reach deep within my body to yank out this fear, this deep-seeded alarm that comes with the instinctual urge to flee, to fight on and keep living. My breaths are coming in short ragged bursts in the form of a panic attack. If I were a true member of my kind, I would not be so vulnerable. Perhaps I would not be able to survive against whatever cruel male came across me but at least I would be able to stand on my own paws, the ones I was meant to stand and die in.
The booming growl is growing closer. Pebbles shift and fall beneath my legs with the quake of its owners forcefulness. Already every animal has fled, nearly trampling me in the process. I can hear paws slamming into the ground, the gnashing of fangs. Perhaps it is the two males who grabbed me outside of Ethan's training. Perhaps they have decided to hunt me themselves.
Nestled deep in my soul, that pull yanks one final time, though this time it does not relax.
Try, Ellie. Keep trying.
I bow my head, tears dripping down my chin as I reach deep inside, calling out to my wolf, searching the depths of my subconscious mind for her. Just as I have a thousand times before, I wail and cry out to her, begging her to wake so that we might live.
Please. Please don't let me die here.
No one answers.
My hands claw through the dirt as I try to drag myself away but I have been running for miles on a stomach full of alcohol and adrenaline that is now leaking away in favor of a sort of numb acceptance. My hands slowly still in the dark soil. Hadn't I always known this was coming? Had I truly expected any other outcome to the tragedy that is my existence?
I think of Mama and Papa. I think of Ethan and Lena. How will they react when they find my body here, torn to pieces beyond recognition? Will they demand vengeance? Or will they fall into a type of mourning I will never be able to pull them from? I have seen mates after they have lost either each other or a pup, perhaps even a family member or friend. Wolves are powerful passionate beasts connected by community and regimented roles and the bonds we form are permanent. When someone passes on to the After, there is always great loss and grief.
My arms go to wrap around myself as I silently say my goodbyes. Goodbye Mama, goodbye Papa. I'm so sorry I didn't listen. Goodbye, Ethan. Forgive me.
And, in the furthest corners of my mind, I think of my mate. My moon-blessed. The creature who would have shared half my soul had I had one of our kind, the male who would have marked me, blessed me with the role of mate and mother, lover and provider for the family we would have created together. I think of all the silent moments in the dead of night, listening to my family's snores and quiet breathing as my hands slipped down to my stomach, caressing the skin there as I thought of the male I would gift my mate, a strong and agile son any male would be proud to raise. All dead, hollow dreams now. I bend my head to cry, to mourn them, and as I do I begin to mourn for myself as well.
No one ever knows how little time they have on this earth but I had so hoped I would have just a little bit longer.
The trees to my left are quaking. Through the thick mass of bushes and vines I see the top of two furry shoulders as tall as a horse prowling forward. The beast's movements are frantic, unhinged. I should turn away so that I will not have to see death come to claim me but there is a tiny part of me, a lone defiant ember of a furious flame, that keeps me still, chin raised. If I must meet my end I will do it with my eyes open. I will die with what little honor I can.
I watch, paralyzed with the undeniable proof of my demise, as the brush parts.
Two obsidian eyes stare back.