Chapter 16 Bonfires
Chapter sixteen
Bonfires
Cole didn’t acknowledge me as I poured a cup of coffee from the pot.
For the last five days, we had lived in silence, not uttering a word to each other.
The morning after… that, which I couldn’t think about without becoming damp between my legs, I had entered the kitchen and found Cole sitting at the little table in the corner with a mug of steaming coffee.
I had poured myself a cup, and we sat silently at the table together.
That first morning, I had expected her to say…
something, anything. All I got was silence. It had become a ritual.
I entered the kitchen, Cole already awake and dressed. I had no idea what time she got up, but I had never heard her getting ready in the morning, so she was either as silent getting ready for the day as she was sitting at the table opposite me, or she was up long before me.
As usual, she got up, placed her mug in the sink, and left without saying a word.
It was driving me crazy.
I dreamt about her every night, waking up sweating with ruined underwear and Cole’s name on my lips. But she never answered.
I would look at my closed bedroom door and wonder if she had heard me. If she were on the other side, ready to open the door that I hadn’t locked to wake me from my nightmare. But I was always alone in the darkness.
Alan wasn’t much for words unless he was taking joy in tormenting one of Patricia’s wayward youths, but still he smiled cheerily. How bad had it gotten that Alan’s morning smile was something I had begun looking forward to?
The days dragged on. The Pack House cleaning was an endless task. Start at one end, finish at the other: just to start all over again.
I was scraping glue off the tables in the arts and crafts room, where a noisy bunch of preteens had been making cards for the seasonal blue moon, which always coincided with the National Assembly.
I remembered celebrating with my parents as a child, how excited I had been to make my own card.
I’m sure I wasn’t as messy. And why were they making cards so early? It was still a few weeks away.
Scraping dried glue from tables was hard work.
“Were they using superglue or something?” Darren asked, and I got such a fright at the interruption that my scraper skidded across the table, and I made the least dignified mini-screeching sound.
Darren was laughing hard, a hand on his stomach, as I retrieved my scraper.
“You did that on purpose,” I accused.
“Hey! I knocked.” He raised his hands in defence. “You were so engrossed that you didn’t hear me. What’s so interesting about scraping tables anyway?” he asked.
“The last group in here was kids making cards for the seasonal blue moon. Probably the first they’ll remember,” I said.
“Do you remember your first?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I think I was eight—no, seven. We used colourful paper to make paper chains. They were hung all over the school. My mum and I made some for home too. I thought it was so cool.” I laughed.
Darren smiled.
“Not my first, but my most memorable seasonal full moon was the first time I ever saw anyone in wolf form,” he told me.
“How? Who?” I asked, surprised.
Humans and young wolves who hadn’t shifted yet or weren’t shifting were kept as far away from wolves on full moons as possible for safety.
Some people never got used to their wolf form and were always more beast than man.
It wasn’t worth taking the chance. All it would take for the old stigma to return was one out-of-control wolf on a full moon.
“My mum. I snuck away from Cole; she was babysitting me. I was ten; she was seventeen and more interested in swapping spit with some girl.” He made a disgusted face and laughed. “So I snuck off out into the forest,” he said.
“Here at Lucian Hill Forest?” I asked.
“The one and only.” He smiled kind of wistfully, which was funny, seeing as he was at most a year or two older than me; he wasn’t old enough to be wistful yet.
“Anyway, Mum usually stays close to home to prevent anyone else getting too near the neighbourhood and populated areas. She smelled me out so fast. I was barely a hundred yards into the forest when suddenly there was this gigantic wolf, growling and snorting in front of me. I knew it was her, even in wolf form; she has this stare she gives when she’s angry with me. ”
“She has good control?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Cole does too. They keep all their faculties.” He pointed to his head. “Not like me. Last week I spent most of the night chasing my own tail.” He laughed. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure,” I told him. I had only shifted twice, and I spent most of my time running scared. Maybe that was my answer.
“Cole said you were skittish,” he offered.
“Skittish?” I asked, offended.
“And fast,” he added.
“When was she talking about me?” I asked curiously.
He shrugged.
“I wouldn’t say she was talking about you. Mum asked what you were like in wolf form; that’s all Cole had to say. Didn’t seem like she wanted to talk much. She’s been odd recently,” he said.
“Odd?” I asked, setting down my scraper and the spray bottle of cleaner I was using.
“Not like concerning odd, just quiet. She gets that way sometimes. Stuck in her head for a bit. She’ll be back to her usual mean self soon enough.” He laughed. “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about Cole; I’m here for you,” he said.
“For me?” I asked.
“There’s a bonfire tonight. It’s a community celebration of the seasonal full moon.
Yeah, it’s still a few weeks away, but it only happens every two and a half years or so; it’s kind of a big deal around here.
More so for the kids than us. The bonfire kicks off the festivities; it’s the one celebration that’s more grown-up in nature.
After all the kids are sent home to bed,” he explained.
“That explains the cards,” I said.
“Anyway, do you want to come? We can go together. It’ll be fun,” he said.
I almost answered instinctively that I would need to ask Cole first, but I stopped myself.
She wasn’t speaking to me. She had ignored me every morning, not even offering a ‘good morning’ or ‘hello’; she had made her decision; I wasn’t even important enough to acknowledge. I didn’t need her permission.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Great, I’ll meet you here when your shift is over. There’ll be barbecue at the bonfire; there’s always more than enough food, so we can get something to eat there and skip dinner in the kitchen,” he said happily.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll wait for you outside the entrance,” I offered.
He nodded.
“Right, well, I’ll leave you to the tables and see you later,” he said and waved awkwardly as he left.
***
The bonfire was surprisingly deep within the forest; a path edged with stones led the way towards a large expanse of riverbank and beach.
The bonfire was piled high with dead, fallen branches and what looked like planks from wooden pallets, not yet a pyramid of flames. The smell of barbecued meats and sweet treats was all around, and it was busy with families and young people.
“It’s a real celebration,” I said as Darren snatched up two hot dogs.
“Oh yeah, the food’s great,” he said as if that was the reason for so many of the Pack in attendance. “Mustard?” he asked, pumping copious amounts of yellow sauce onto a hot dog.
“About half that.” I laughed.
“As you wish, but the ratio of mustard to sausage to bun is going to be off,” he joked as he did as I asked and handed the plate over to me.
I took a bite.
I was always ravenous after working all day.
Alan would show up with biscuits and tea halfway through the day and moan about whichever Council member had annoyed him most recently, and never really required any input from me.
Still, the biscuits were appreciated and stopped my stomach from eating itself, but I looked forward to dinner.
At least I could focus on the food and ignore Cole ignoring me.
There was no Cole at the bonfire. It would have been relaxing if I wasn’t constantly thinking about her.
“Good?” he asked after finishing off his last bite.
“Yeah,” I answered, amused by how quickly he had inhaled his food.
“More?” he asked.
I was only a couple of bites into mine.
“I’m good; you should probably vacuum up a few more.” I laughed.
He smiled toothily, a bit of hot dog stuck in his teeth.
“You’ve got something.” I pointed to my teeth.
“Oh.” He laughed and brought his hand up to hide his mouth while picking it out. “All good now?” he asked.
I gave him a thumbs-up and took a bite of my hot dog to avoid laughing.
He smiled, and I watched as he walked back over to the grill area and stood in the short line.
I was distracted by a tug on the sleeve of my jumper.
I looked down and found a child with brown hair and blue eyes staring up at me. I wasn’t good at guessing ages; children were all tiny until suddenly they were tall and smelly. This one was very small, just starting school age, maybe.
“You’re an omega,” she stated.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Mummy says you’re special and there’s only one of you,” she said.
I had never been approached by a child before. I wasn’t really around children much. I looked around for anyone who looked like they might be missing a child.
“Where is your mummy?” I asked, crouching down.
The child shrugged.
“Did you come here with her?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I’m Harriet. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Isobel,” she answered.
“Hi, Isobel, do you know your mummy’s name?” I asked.
She looked confused.
“Mummy?” she answered. I smiled encouragingly and looked around again, trying to find the mother missing her child.
“Why is there only one omega?” the girl asked.
How did you explain to a child that there were other omegas in other Packs, but there were centuries of violent persecution and Packs like Sandstorm did such a good job at killing all their omegas that they cleansed us from their bloodlines?