Page 31 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“Vedia!” Annik scolded. “You’re scaring the poor girl!”

“Better for her to know what to expect!” Vedia retorted.

Tegen pushed her way between them, hushing them both. “It takes some getting used to, this is true. But to give yourself over to the wolf is the most exquisite brush with true freedom you will ever experience, and makes the momentary discomfort worth every second.”

“Much like bedding for the first time,” Annik said with a knowing sigh. “There is pain in the beginning. Sometimes for longer than one would like. But after? Bliss.”

Fern snorted, recalling her own beddings. “Well, if you can count on the skill of your partner.”

“Oh dear, you still haven’t slept with a wolfkin yet, have you?” Tegen tutted softly. “Trust me, once the silly waiting period is over, you’ll wonder why you even bothered with human men to begin with.”

Perhaps she was right, but Fern worried that even if she was interested in being petitioned, it might never happen, anyway, because Darion had said something to her suitors.

Whether he’d held to his word that she wouldn’t be available for the next few months, or had decided she was permanently defective, she didn’t know. What she did know was that all physical affection and flirting, harmless or otherwise, had almost completely disappeared following her night in the Council Chambers.

Even Jules would no longer look her in the eye.

And while many of the pinches, grabs, and slaps had been unwanted, their sudden absence was unnerving, and only further served to keep her wolf in hiding.

Her days of recent had been filled with nothing but unease from morning til night, especially once Hyde disappeared. He’d stopped talking to her after she’d tried to intervene on his behalf out of guilt for her public censure, but then two days ago a different Solvekh had arrived to help her ready the room.

Hyde had been successfully petitioned after all, she’d come to find out, her failure compounding until her dread had metastasized in the pit of her stomach.

At long last, Marin walked in the room, but she did not need to ring a bell to get everyone’s attention.

“The moon has risen. Let us prepare to step into our rightful skins—gifts from the wolfkin who made us in their image.”

There was a basket of cloaks by the door, and each woman picked one up, a small token of modesty until everything was shed outside.

The nudity was the least of Fern’s concerns at the moment, but she was thankful for the cloak for at least keeping her lack of visible bite hidden from curious eyes. The women had whispered often enough about her connection to Alpha Darion, and she would not add to the gossip of their strange relationship if she could help it.

For there was no relationship other than one of begrudging, irritating duty on his end, and inexplicable veneration on hers.

They trudged up the stairs as faceless pilgrims, whispers too hushed for Fern to discern any real meaning from other than a general air of excitement and promise.

She so wished she could join them.

With the hood over her head and eyes cast downward, she did not take note of the way and merely followed the hems of the women in front of her, apprehension making her steps heavy.

“It’s a clean slate,” a voice beside her said.

Fern turned slowly, a woman whose face she recognized but whose name eluded her.

“Our wolves change our perspectives—slights or arguments that plagued us as humans suddenly don’t seem as important when we’re in our fur, and are forgotten by the time the moon sets.”

She nudged Fern with her elbow. “Things will be okay.”

Something in her cracked, and Fern threw herself at the poor woman, who caught her with a loud “oomph.”

“Thank you,” Fern whispered, nuzzling her nose into the woman’s neck. Her scent was clean and warm, a comfort she’d desperately needed.

The woman patted her softly and laughed. “Come, come, we don’t want to be late.”

She blinked away her tears and released her, hurrying to catch up with the women ahead of them.

When they finally made it outside, Fern felt even further at ease. It was her first time since Darion had brought her to Sabletail Castle that she’d breathed in fresh air, her lungs hungry as she inhaled. The scent of the forest beyond the walls beckoned her, and the march continued, the path lit by torches and guarded by cloaked sentries who saw the clan safely beyond the walls before joining the monthly shift themselves.

“Fern!”