announced the upcoming Pack holiday. But like I told them—I can’t take credit for this incredible pun.
“Incredibly bad,” Charlotte had complained.
Susan had winced for me. “I’m sorry, Deek, but it wasn’t good.”
Ginny, torn between her human family and the werewolf tradition she’s heard so much about, would say nothing and stayed mum.
“I like it,” Maggie claimed loyally.
It’s sad that none of them but Maggie has any taste.
“What do werewolves do for this ‘Howl-o-ween...?’” Susan and Charlotte had asked dubiously.
Today is the day they find out. We spill out of the car, Susan having parked us in the Half Moon House’s garage, where she’s been parking every time the family intends to stay the night at the Pack dens.
It’s going to be a sunny day, but so far the sunlight is barely burning off the chilly dew that’s painting the rolling hills a crystalized green. Dark kidney-shaped spots in the grass are shoeprints, dogged by circular pawprints that lead us past every house: Half Moon, Night Howl, London, Lángrén, Vlkolak. In the distance, you can just see the shapes of others, like Ōkami with its distinct roof.
“Where are we going?” murmurs Charlotte.
“To the field at the end of Pack territory,” I tell them, and it’s the sound of the smile in my voice that lets me know I’m grinning. I’ve always liked the Howl-o-ween games, but there’s even more thrill in sharing a day like this with Susan and her family. It makes everything… brighter. New. Fun. “Wait til you see it!”
“It’s really cute to watch him geek out like this,” I hear Susan whisper, making me silently bark a chuckle.
She’s wearing a bag slung over her shoulder that could double as a suitcase, but she insisted this morning that it’s a purse. Not that my opinion was solicited but to me it seems like it’s more of a pharmacy, lunch buffet, and bank. I feel bad that she has to haul the thing, but although I offered to carry it for her—I referred to it as a purse for her benefit, just to be polite—she declined, saying she's used to the weight.
And she wonders why her back hurts.
Our shoes get soaked in the dew, but the girls don’t complain. They’re almost as keyed up as I feel—and my system is humming. When we finally reach the field, I feel like howling. Normally, I would, and half the pack would sing back in answer.
I restrain myself though, not wanting to startle my pack of humans.
Maggie, who loves long walks, is just starting to ask if she can be carried or somehow driven by vehicle to our destination—when she stops speaking, because we’ve crested a hill, and she sees what we’ve come for spread before her.
Games, food tables, and for almost as far as the eye can see, there are rows and rows of twelve-foot-high corn stalks.
“It’s a giant corn maze,” Charlotte breathes. “Whoa.”
Ginny flashes her a delighted grin. “They told me about it last weekend. It’s been killing me to keep it a secret.”
“Do we get ice cream?” Maggie asks.
Charlotte slaps herself in the face. “WHY?”
Susan tilts her head to the side, regarding her youngest. “What are you going to do when it’s January and it’s freezing outside?”
Maggie looks up at the rest of us and shrugs. “Wear a sweater and eat ice cream.”
Ginny is shaking her head. “Do you think she was switched at birth? Maybe she’s from an Inuit family who eats nothing but seal blubber and Haagen-Dazs.”
Whooping with laughter, I swoop Maggie up and raise her to sit on my shoulders. “Or maybe you’re Pack. We don’t let a little cold keep us from ice cream. Come on,” I tell them. Let’s check in.”
I lead them over to tables set up near the corn maze. “Hey, Jenn,” I greet the first table, a spark of satisfaction flaring inside me when Jennifer calls out a cheery, “Hiya Deek and Deek’s family!”
My family.
“Where’s the entrance to the maze?” Charlotte whispers, watching as other families begin to arrive, everyone assembling in excited clusters fanning out along the length of the field.
“Deek will show you in just a sec,” Jenn answers, handing me and Ginny each a bucket and an adjustable collar. The collars have big paper tags affixed to them, numbered and in different colors so that onlookers can easily identify the wolf players in each game.
She waves at us to move to the next table. “See Mason and Candice to get your apples.”