Ethan
Stop fidgeting.
Ugh! She rolls her eyes. I just want this to be
over.
Since we discovered we could read each other’s minds, we use
it more than we actually talk. Clara thinks it began at the wedding because,
though not magical, it was still a commitment.
It will be, soon.
You’re fidgeting, too.
That’s because of the blue moon. Just wait until we
change. You haven’t seen fidgeting yet.
“Your hands.”
We turn to Clara, positioning our hands above a small bowl
containing the ritual wine. She pricks both our fingers, squeezing blood into
the bowl. I watch, baffled, as smoke begins to rise from the bowl. That’s never
happened before. The mixture bubbles and Clara stirs it with the ceremonial spoon.
It’s made from the branch of an ancient Great Basin bristlecone pine and is
engraved with ancient markings. She hands the bowl to me, and I look at Casey
expectantly.
What?
We have to drink it.
Huh?
I’ll feed you, and then you feed me.
Okay….
I place the bowl at her lips, and she takes a cautious sip.
It actually doesn’t taste bad.
She takes a bigger sip, and then I hand her the bowl. As I
drink, I notice that her hands are shaking.
Are you okay?
I don’t know.
Clara takes the bowl as Casey begins scratching her upper
arm. She pulls up the sleeve of her blouse, and we watch as something is
being magically etched into her skin. I feel the same itching sensation and
realize it’s happening to me also. The crowd moves closer to try to see what’s going
on.
“Oh, my God, Ethan. It’s you!”
Sure enough, my face—or rather Sheriff’s face—is branded on
her arm, but it’s just like a regular tattoo. Checking my arm, I find her
wolf’s face there.
“And that’s you.”
“We have to hurry,” Clara says. “The sun’s going down.”
We turn our attention back to her as she retrieves a book
from her bag. I’ve never seen it before. She flips to a page she’s bookmarked
and turns to the rest of the pack who’ve gathered for the ceremony.
“Since this is an unprecedented situation, I did a little
more preparation than I normally do. I scoured our library and came across this
book. I’d never seen it before, and I was intrigued. All I can say is that I
wish I had found it sooner.”
She holds the book up to the crowd and glances at me before
continuing.
“As far as I can tell, it’s about two hundred years old. It was
written by an ancestor of Ethan’s… a seer. In it, she revealed a prophecy.”
Everyone’s ears perk up, and they pay close attention to
Clara.
“She wrote, ‘A great alpha, from my blood, shall arise in
the midst of turmoil. He shall be stronger, braver, and more determined than
any before or after him. He will be a fair and just leader who will crush all
those who oppose him. He is destined to endure trials of faith in choosing a
mate but’”—she pauses dramatically, looking out over the crowd—“‘all shall be
revealed when he meets the human with hair like fire.’”
There’s an audible gasp from the crowd. I look over at Casey,
and she’s listening intently, eyes wide. I take her hand, giving it a light
squeeze. She moves closer, and I place my arm around her.
“‘They shall be as one—one mind, one body, one soul. Once
joined, their powers will increase, growing stronger by the day. From their
union, a new breed shall arise—faster, stronger, more powerful. Every wolf near
and far shall know this mighty alpha pair who will crush evil and unite packs.’
Now, is there anyone here who still doubts that these two are fated to be
together?”
Silence.
I told you that you were meant for me.
Maybe you were meant for me. You ever thought of that,
Sir Alpha?
Okay, we were meant for each other.
Better.
Clara closes the book and turns to face us. “Join hands.”
I take Casey’s small, delicate hands in mine and stare down
at her—my destiny. I would do anything for her. I can’t wait for her to have my
children.
Soon, Ethan.
I know. We have nothing but time.
Clara binds our hands together with the ancient ceremonial
ribbon and begins reading from the equally ancient Canalunium, our book of
rituals. It’s in an obsolete language, so I have no idea what she’s saying.
Casey raises a questioning brow.
It’s the language of my ancestors.
Oh.
The wind picks up, swirling leaves and dust in the air.
Lightning strikes the ground close by and Casey jumps, moving closer to me.
Thunder roars above and Clara begins to read faster. More lightning flashes in
quick succession. The thunder that follows sounds like bombs going off, shaking
the ground with as much force. I look up at the sky and see the swirling black
clouds. This is no ordinary storm. Casey stares at me, fear in her eyes.
What’s happening?
I don’t know, sweetheart. Just hold on to me.