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Vivian was stunned. The Old Way? When was the last time they had done that? Yes, her father could have taken on any male around and come out on top, but he had been made leader because of his management skills, and no one had challenged that. He was respected and well loved.
"Not completely the Old Way," Astrid said. "Times are different."
Aunt Persia eyed her coldly. "Males only."
"No!" Astrid pounded her seat with a fist.
"You want to get us all arrested?" Renata asked.
"There are several state parks in driving distance," Gabriel answered. "Places that are deserted at night."
"We've lost so many of us," Rudy said. "Do we want to cause death and injury to those who remain?"
"A leader must have the support of all the pack," said Aunt Persia. "If there is no agreement, then the right must be won by combat."
"The Old Way, the Old Way the Old Way," the Five began to chant. Rafe grinned gleefully; Finn's eyes sparkled as bright as the chains around his wrists.
Orlando Griffin rose and walked to the center of the room. The noise subsided. "As oldest male, I preside in matters of Ordeal," he said. He pointed at the Five. "You are not of age. We do not wipe out our young."
"We can fight," Rafe snarled.
Whatever the other boys said was drowned out by the crowd. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone expressed it.
Vivian got up quietly and slipped out the door. No one noticed. No one stopped her, not even her mother. It was a relief to leave the house.
Outside, she sat on a bench under the ramshackle grape arbor, half hidden by the trailing vines. The backyard was quiet except for the chirping of tiny nightlife. Early fireflies danced in the shadows.
She had never witnessed the Ordeal. All she knew was that every adult male fought in his wolf-shape until one was left standing - the strongest, the smartest, sometimes the most devious.
She felt a surge of exciting heat, thinking of them in a tangle of fur and limbs. She pictured Gabriel, half changed, his scarred chest glistening with sweat. She shrugged the image off in anger. Would he win? And would her mother make a bigger fool of herself to become his mate and be Queen Bitch again?
The screen door slammed.
The Five came out into the back, mumbling and growling.
"That worn-out old dog," Rafe said. "He can't tell us we can't fight."
"Damn right," agreed Gregory. "We deserve a chance."
Vivian laughed.
The Five converged on her. They peered through the vines like angry satyrs.
Rafe tore aside the tangle of stems, and his claws grew. "What's so funny, Viv?"
"You," she said. "You honestly think you'd have a chance in the Ordeal? That the pack would follow you? Grow up."
Rafe bared his teeth. His new beard gave him a demonic look. "The fight's the thing," he said tightly, but she knew his fantasy was to win.
"I don't want to get dragged back to the sticks again," Willem said, almost pouting. His twin gave him a glance of disgust.
"Why not?" Vivian asked. "Life was good there. The hunting in the hills, long runs with no one around, no one to cry wolf, no hiding, no skulking, no worrying."
"No fun," ended Rafe.
"I don't like your kind of fun," she said. "It doesn't amuse me to rouse lovers out of the long grass by snapping at their heels, or to creep up on children at dusk with my fur on to hear them scream."
"It's a laugh, Vivian," Gregory said. "Just a laugh."
