Page 11 of Rabid
They’re here.
It’s the only coherent thought that blasts through my mind, and I know I’m right. I can feel it with every inch of my essence. The hairs on the back of my neck lift, and I find myself searching around desperately as if I’ll be able to see my wolf even though the spirits are invisible to the eye. But I have my other senses, and they confirm that she’s near. Just knowing that, justfeelingit, makes joy unlike any other surge through my chest. The ceremony has always been impactful, but this is different.
A howling wind cuts through the stillness, blowing through the bonfire and kicking up dirt like the race of dozens of paws. The crowd cheers, clapping and crying out, and I feel so charged with the energy that I’m practically shaking.
But just as quickly as the happiness comes, it gets cut off at the knees with devastating loss. Because...I’m abandoning her. I’m leaving my wolf behind.
“The wolf spirits have blessed us with their presence!” Weaver Yaromir cries out, earning even more celebratory noises from the pack. “They are pleased with Twin Rivers’ offering!”
The crowd surges, forcing me to stand on my tiptoes and peer over shoulders. I see Burke’s smug face as he nods respectfully to the Weaver. “Time for the hosts to prepare!” he calls out, and my stomach twists. “Everyone else, continue to celebrate with our fellow spirits.”
The pack cheers, everyone going back for more food and drink, pack males wasting no time in grabbing the dancing omegas, dragging them onto laps. I turn around numbly, following the other hosts as we all head for the pack house. Just before I enter through the back door, I look behind me at the wolf spirit I can feel is watching me, and at the alpha just behind her.
I wonder which of them will hate me more when they realize I’ve fled.
Chapter Four
Excited chatter explodes all around me as each of the participants is shown to a room to change. My heart hammers harder than the ceremonial stomps that just rang out in honor of the spirits, and I move robotically to the robes that have my name written on a white piece of deer hide that’s pinned to them so that there’d be no confusion.
I run my hand down the smooth fabric, the wool of the robe feeling heavier than I realized it would. The wide stitching on the sides is to allow the fabric to tear apart easily so that our new wolves don’t get stuck in it when we change for the first time. It leaves small gaps between the pieces of fabric that show off hints of skin and peeks of the body. I’ve always wondered what I would look like draped in the black fabric. I guess I’ll never know.
I grab my hanger and the beautiful belt that’s laid out separately. I run my eyes over the fine stitching on the belt, an image of a howling wolf appearing through the various colors of thread that have been sewn together masterfully. I’m curious who made it for me. Usually, it’s your family that creates the special sash and it’s the only thing we’re allowed to keep from tonight other than the spirit of the wolf that chooses us. But I found my mother’s half-finished efforts in her room after she died, so I know this belt isn’t her handy work.
I run my thumb across the beautiful gray furred image and look around to see other participants still laughing and teasing each other and just now starting to undress. I fold everything over my arm and leave in search of a bathroom. No one says anything to me as I go. The awkwardness of our exchange earlier in the salon still hangs heavy in the air between us, and I get the impression they don’t care that I don’t want to change in here with them. They’re just happy I’m gone so I don’t continue to dampen their moods.
A delta waiting outside starts in surprise as I open the door and walk out. Straightening up, he looks over at me with confusion when he sees my robes draped over my arm instead of being on my body like they’re supposed to be.
I shut down any nervousness and fix a sheepish smile on my face. “Is there a bathroom I can change in?” I ask awkwardly.
“Four doors down on the right,” he answers, an understanding look in his eyes.
Luckily, my request doesn’t seem to be all that strange. Yes, once we start shifting, regular nudity isn’t taboo at all. But none of us have shifted yet, so I was hoping the shy card wouldn’t be all that unusual.
“Thanks. It’s just so loud in there, and I really want to take my time and mentally prepare,” I explain, hoping the lie helps to buy me just a little more of a head start.
The delta offers a grunt and nod as I walk past and hurry to where he said the bathroom was. I open the door, locking it behind me, and flick on the light. I shove my robes in the sink and quietly move to the window on the back wall just left of the toilet. Biting my lip, I turn and shove my robes aside before turning on the water to help drown out any sounds that could give away what I’m really doing in here.
Adrenaline spikes through me as I pull the lever that locks the window. A small click sounds off when I flick it open, and then slowly, I start to push the pane up. The smell of trees, sap, and soil greets me, and I quickly bend to the side and flush the toilet so I can knock the screen out undetected. The delta isn’t standing right outside the bathroom door, but I can’t dismiss his shifter hearing.
As soon as the toilet whooshes with a loud flush, I jam my elbow into the screen as hard as I can, inwardly celebrating when it pops right off and falls outside. I stick my head out of the window and listen for a beat, waiting to hear any indication that anyone has heard or noticed what I’m doing, but nothing happens.
I pull my head back in, grab onto the upper sill of the window and kick my legs out into the open space, swinging my body out. I drop to the ground with an audible thud on the balls of my feet. Breathing hard, I stay frozen, not daring to move as I try to clear the beating of my heart in my own ears so I can hear if anyone is coming.
All that greets me are the sounds of the forest, but I don’t let excitement or victory wash through me just yet. This is just the beginning of what I know is going to be a long and terrifying night.
I move stealthily away from the pack house, out into the tall trees, while working through the best option for how to get to my bag and then where to go from there. I won’t go to town this time. They’ll expect that. Maybe my previous trek will work in my favor and my scent from earlier will be a trail that leads a good portion of the hunting party astray.
Instead, I’ll run for the rivers tonight. I’ll douse my scent in their waters and ride them as far down as I can until I’m closer to a safer civilization. It’s a risky plan, but the only one that will work. I won’t be able to outrun the pack all night, and they won’t immediately think I’m in the freezing cold water until I have a solid lead on them. There’s got to be another human town I can reach, and then I’ll stuff myself into a bus or cab and put as many miles between us as I can.
For a second, I consider abandoning my bag in the bushes, but it has everything; my clothes, my money, and my mom’s hairpin that I stuffed in the front pocket at the salon. I can’t leave that behind. It’s all I kept that was hers.
Determination filling me, I know I have two options. I can pick my way through the woods and stealthily make it back to where I stashed my things, or I can make a run for it and get to it as quickly as possible. As risky as that seems, I know it’s what I need to do. There aren’t any betas sweeping the perimeter tonight. Burke always gives them the night off from guard duty during the Flux so they can partake. As if to prove my point, I hear cheers and clapping, the celebration growing rowdier.
I take a second to gather my bearings, eyes sweeping the dark side of the pack house, the noise and orange glow of the fire emanating from the other side. I don’t have a second to waste. With one more puff of breath, I take off. My feet fly across the grass and mud, past pinecones and rocks. I think for a second that I’ve somehow overshot my direction, but then I spot it—the bush I hid my bag in. I rush over to it, digging my hand beneath the rough brambles, fingers closing around the strap. I yank it out, pine needles falling off it like rain.
My heart is pounding now, so hard I can practically taste my pulse in the back of my throat. Hurriedly, I sling the bag over my back, holding the straps tight as I turn and run deeper into the woods. I make it ten feet before the first shadow moves.
I skid to a grinding stop, shoes digging into the earth, eyes going wide in horror as Burke steps into view. The break in the trees above shows the glittering fury rising in his black eyes. “Going somewhere, Seneca?” The tone of his voice is filled with something dangerous, something dark.
