behind the large home that houses the alpha and other higher up members of our people. I take advantage of the busy moment, eyes flicking left and right, but Seamus is nowhere to be found, and Burke is walking the Spirit Weaver the opposite way, their heads tilted toward each other like they’re in deep discussion.
Making sure that no other betas are watching me, I spin on my heel and race to the trees just behind me that nestle against the side of the pack house. As soon as I’m beneath the shadows of their cover, I stop at the first full bush I see and then shove my bag between its thick branches.
I rip off pine needles from the tree above it, stripping the branch bare and dumping them on top. That will help disguise my black bag, but also help to cover up my smell. I check my handiwork, bending back some of the bush’s leaves and branches to better cover it, and then wipe my hands on my jeans. It’s the best I can do.
Hurrying back to join the others still moseying toward the ceremony grounds, I walk as fast as I dare, knowing that if I were to run, it would just draw attention. Luckily, there are a few stragglers, but I quickly pass them by with a nervous smile, catching up to where everybody else is now gathered. There are picnic tables on one side of a massive bonfire that’s already being lit beneath the pre-dusk sky. The base of the converging rivers sparkles in the waning light, and just behind us is the place where the spirit ceremony will take place after the feast.
Every second is going to count.
I waste no time filling up a plate and picking a seat away from the commotion and as close to the trees as I can get without being conspicuous. I eat my mountain of food, barely even tasting it as I wolf it down, my eyes on my pack and my mind on how the hell to get away from them. I go over what I know is going to go down tonight. I’ve attended these every year since I can remember, but it all feels so different now. Maybe it’s because there’s so much riding on my getting away, or maybe my wolf spirit is close and that’s what I’m reacting to, but I feel off, anxious, and desperate.
I focus on something else and tell myself I have time, that I’ll figure this out. First, the Spirit Weaver will invite the spirits to dine with us, and the pack will bring all of the sacred and specially prepared dishes and set them out on a special table for them. Then all the Flux participants will be excused to go dress in their ceremonial robes and return here for the blooding, but if I’m still here by then, I’m screwed.
My best bet is to sneak off when we’re supposed to get dressed. By then, a good portion of the pack will be drunk, full, and relaxed. I’ll grab my robe and then slip out of a window or something. I’ll only have maybe a forty-minute head start, but I’ll have to make it work.
The feasting pack starts to quiet down, and I glance around from my spot on the picnic table to see Burke and the Spirit Weaver walk into the gathering. They greet a few people as they make their way toward the front, Yaromir carrying a leather pack with him.
Part of me is saying I should run now while this man sets up and everyone is busy watching him, eagerly anticipating what’s going to happen. But I worry they’ll notice too quickly that I’m not here when they call all the participants together to get changed. There’s also another part of me that desperately wants to see him call the spirits down.
I’ve never felt or seen anything at any of the other Fluxes I’ve attended, but I wonder if this time it will be different. Will I feel her? Will I know she’s nearby? Will she understand why I can’t take her on?
An ache starts in my chest, but I do my best to ignore it. One look at Burke as he fawns all over the Spirit Weaver is enough to remind me that I don’t really have a choice. This is about survival, and if my wolf doesn’t get that, how compatible would we have been in the first place?
Weaver Yaromir unrolls his