Chapter 1 - Ayla
Chapter 1
Ayla
My sister, Denyra, had managed to sit still for exactly twelve seconds.
“Your hair is going to look beautiful if you stop checking whether I’m finished,” I told her, catching her chin before she could turn toward the mirror again.
“I’ve been sitting here forever,” Denyra complained.
“Twenty minutes,” I corrected, amused.
Denyra huffed. “That’s forever when everyone else is getting ready without you.”
I picked up the last length of redthread and worked the tiny flowers into her braid. Denyra had spent most of her life outdoors, racing through brush and climbing ridges with our father. Sitting on a stool while somebody fussed with her hair took more patience than she possessed.
“Go ahead,” I said, finally moving out of the way. “Admire yourself. I know you’ve been suffering.”
She rushed to the mirror and turned her head to see the back. The smile she gave me was worth the sore fingers.
“Ayla, I love it.” She touched a flower, then dropped her hand before she could disturb it. “You have to do this for my mating ceremony, too.”
“Isn’t that what we just agreed yesterday?” I asked, laughing a little.
“Yes, but you looked distracted when I asked,” Denyra said with a small shrug.
“I was pulling a thorn out of Papa’s leg. He was complaining louder than you are now,” I reminded her.
Denyra laughed and pulled me into a hug. She was taller than me and always forgot how hard she squeezed. I hugged her back anyway. I’d been helping her prepare for tonight for weeks, and seeing her this happy made it easier to ignore the uncomfortable feeling I’d been carrying around.
“Do you think Drax will like it?” she asked when she let go.
“He’ll love it,” I assured her, giving her a small smile.
It was the truth. Drax loved nearly everything about my sister. He was the Alpha of our pack and completely smitten with Denyra.
Outside, Mama was checking the lantern hanging beside our den. Papa stood next to her, wearing the clean jacket he usually complained was too tight across the shoulders. Both of them turned when Denyra stepped out.
“Oh, look at you!” Mama said. She straightened the braid against Denyra’s back, then kissed her cheek. “You’re looking lovely.”
Papa grinned. “Hard to believe the same girl came home yesterday with half the creek on her clothes.”
“That was a difficult trail,” Denyra protested.
“You fell in.” I sighed.
Denyra stuck her chin out. “After finding the deer, which is the important part.”
Papa laughed and launched into a question about how she’d managed the crossing. Within moments the three of them were discussing the trail, a subject they could happily stay on until morning.
I pulled the door shut and went to stand beside Mama. She put an arm around me and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. She hadn’t forgotten me. My parents never did. We simply didn’t have as many things to talk about.
They were hunters and trackers, the best in Nightoak, and Denyra had loved their work since she was little. I had tried it. I really had. But by the time I was twelve, Papa had accepted that I could lose a trail while practically standing on it. I’d been much happier in the healing den, where nobody expected me to distinguish one set of muddy paw prints from another.
Mama asked me about an elderly patient’s fever as we walked, and I told her he’d eaten a full bowl of soup that afternoon. She smiled, pleased, before Denyra spotted a fellow tracker and called out to him.
I was glad she was excited. I just wished I hadn’t spent so many years wishing Drax would smile at me the way he smiled at her.
The celebration was already in full swing when we reached the main clearing. Fires burned between long tables set out with food. Wolves from Nightmist wore dark green and brown, while the visitors from Nightgrove had pale gray woven into their ceremonial clothes. All three packs shared the forest, but we didn’t often gather in one place unless there was a big reason.
Tonight the reason was Drax.
He’d invited the important families, senior wolves and leaders from both neighboring packs to announce the date of his mating ceremony to Denyra. She’d been talking about this evening for days. I had been trying not to think about it.
“Ayla!”
I turned just in time for Niva to grab both my hands. Drax’s younger sister had a bright scarf around her hair and a look of deep concern on her face.
“I need help,” she said.
“Is somebody hurt?” I asked, immediately worried.
Niva made a face. “Not yet. But if Mother tells me to stand up straight one more time, somebody might be.”
I laughed, relaxing. “She wants the guests to think you were raised properly.”
“Then she’s started much too late.” Niva glanced toward the raised stones beside the main fire. “Are you going up there with the blessing cup?”
“After the announcement,” I said, nodding slowly.
Niva nodded. “Good. I’ll stand near you. If my brother talks too long, we’ll escape together.”
“You’re his sister,” I reminded her, chuckling anyway.
“Exactly. I know how long he can talk.” She rolled her eyes.
She squeezed my hand before being called away by an older woman. Niva could make me laugh on days when I didn’t feel much like smiling.
Then I saw Drax.
He was speaking to a pair of Nightmist elders near the fire. His dark hair was tied back and his jacket lay open at the throat. When one of the elders said something, he laughed, and I felt the same foolish flutter I’d been feeling since I was eighteen.
I’d developed my crush after he helped me home from a gathering with a thorn buried in my heel. I remember being mortified because I was crying over such a small injury. Drax sat beside me until I let him pull it out, then stayed to make sure I could walk. He probably forgot the whole afternoon by the next day.
I hadn’t.
Eight years was an embarrassing amount of time to spend secretly loving a man who’d never thought of me that way. I knew it. I still looked for him whenever I entered a crowded clearing.
Denyra appeared beside him and took his arm. His attention went straight to her. He bent to say something, and she laughed so hard that she had to grip his sleeve.
I looked away and checked the cup waiting on the flat blessing stone. I’d prepared the traditional drink that afternoon; warmed honey with bitterroot and spices, offered to a couple when they announced their mating. The sweetness wished them happiness. The bitterroot reminded them there would be difficult days, too.
At least the cup gave my hands something useful to do.
Drax stepped onto the rise and waited for the talking to fade. A little boy near the front was using his father as a climbing tree. The father scooped him up just as Drax began.
“Thank you for coming,” Drax said. “I know some of you had a long run to reach Nightoak. I promise I didn’t invite you all here just to show off our cooking.”
A few people laughed. Someone behind me called that Nightoak’s cooking wasn’t worth the trip, and Drax smiled toward the voice.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Now, there’s something Denyra and I would like to share.”
My sister came up beside him, glowing with excitement.
He took her hand and lifted it slightly so everyone could see. “On the next Red Moon, Denyra and I will become chosen mates. I’m proud and very glad to tell you she’ll be Nightoak’s next Luna.”
The clearing burst into applause and happy howls. Papa gave a shout loud enough to embarrass Denyra, though she was laughing too hard to mind. Mama leaned against him, smiling through tears.
I joined in. I really was happy for my sister. She’d found someone she loved and he loved her right back. It was everything she wanted.
Drax swept her into a hug. When he set her down, Niva nudged me toward the blessing stone.
“Go on,” she said. “Before they’re too busy kissing to drink it.”
I picked up the cup and walked toward them.
Denyra was still grinning when I reached the rise.
Drax turned to accept the cup. “Thank you, Ayla.”
“It’s still warm. Careful,” I warned him.
His fingers touched mine as he took it.
And my breath caught immediately.
Something passed between us so suddenly that I forgot where I was standing. The noise from the celebration faded, and the only person I could focus on was Drax.
He stopped smiling.
We stared at each other, both holding the same cup, and I knew what had happened before either of us said a word.
Mate.
