— Kaden —

“Are you okay,” I asked Elaeya.

She had been awfully quiet since we reached the site. Araeya had my people prepare seven large bonfires, three of which would be behind us as we faced the pack. It gave an eerie arcane air to the place, the shadows dancing on the stones erected before us.

Generally, something like this would occur closer to the packhouse, which had bothered my mother given that there had been a few autumn showers this week and the lawn would easily be damaged, so when Araeya asked for this place, where the earth was packed and dry, and would not damage the flower beds, she was on board.

Things did take a turn though, when she came one day with a staff adorned with bones and buckskin leather straps and arcane carving on it, talking to trees and rocks and guiding the whole excavation process.

A lot of trees had been cleared, but not all of them.

The rumours of Araeya’s behaviours had been the talk of the town, which had only triggered more speculations about Elaeya.

People arrived slowly. Those from the farthest territories parked a little further and walked the rest of the way with those who lived closer. More than a few ran here, shifting back to their human forms in the woods, and getting dressed hastily with clothes from packs they’d carried with their teeth.

Traditionally, when older generations were still alive, they would guide the ceremony, until I would give Elaeya’s power to her. But I wasn’t sure what changes would occur with Araeya in charge. I’d been told everyone knew what they needed and there were no changes in my parts, so even though I didn’t have the time to go over this, it should be fine. Everyone had been game with whatever Araeya’s suggestions were, which made me feel better as changes are not always taken well by people in general.

As a race, just like humans, we get easily entrenched in our own habits, and shy away from changes.

Elaeya nodded at me reassuringly and we walked slowly to the podium.

I heard the regular beat of a drum as we drew in closer. It was not a plastic percussion either, but actual skin that resonated through the night. And then she started to sing.

It was not a language that I knew. It was high, long, pristine notes intersected with guttural throat signing. It sounded primal and ethereal at the same time. The drum kept its beat in a mantra-like drone.

Araeya walked up to the podium as we arrived, the sound louder as she joined us.

She was wearing a white buckskin dress with long slits on either side exposing her legs to her hips. Her feet were bare, and little anklet of dangling bones and pearls clanged together to the rhythm of her song. Her hair was knotted and braided in long intricate patterns. Long leather tongues covers most of her face, but I could see patters of browns, blacks, and reds, going from her cheeks to her neck, arms and legs that evoked long lost languages and traditions. Among the braided part of her hair, on top of her skull, was long, wide antlers protruding up.

She had a two feet wide piece of skin held by a rounds wooden circle with a cross in the middle where she held it as she hit the leather drum with a carved bone stick with soft hand-made material on the end.

She stood there in the middle and continued her song as people gathered.

My grandfather looked at her in fascination on the side.

“I’ve heard stories in my youth, you know,” he said to my father. “Traditions that were being lost. Things that used to be part of who we were and were drowned in the Industrial Revolution. We gained a lot with society’s advancement, but there are things we have lost. My great-grandfather told me of how they used to talk to our ancestors and they would respond, until they stopped. There is more to us than just the ability to shape-shift, but most have forgotten. The young often don’t even know.”

My father nodded, looking at Araeya just like everyone else in fascination.

“I tried, you know. To reconnect, get back to the source. But it’s hard when it doesn’t respond anymore,” he continued.

There were strange shapes in the shadows on the stones, shapes that had nothing to do with the flames that cast their lights and everything to do with unseen beings, dancing slowly to the rhythm.

That song, I realised, was a beacon.

“It seems like they might be listening now,” my grandfather said looking at the shapes. “Maybe the future growth of Blakemore as nothing to do with numbers of pack members anymore.”

“Maybe,” my father conceded as a large shape rose, it could be seen vaguely over some of the evergreen canopy behind. It was tall, muscular, with goat-like legs, and large antlers.

It took nearly an hour after that, for people to settle.

My grandmother guided the first part of the ceremony, adding a speech of acceptance, changes, and strength in the face of challenges that was completely her own. She did so gracefully, as always, while Araeya kept her mournful song going in the background.

My mother then took her place, shining in front of a crowd like she always did. She added her own speech on prosperity, growth, and distinction in the face of conformity.

The song ended and Araeya took the ceremonial bowl, to which she added a few plants and things I did not know of, grounding them, then she passed around for us all to put in a few drops of blood that my grandmother fetched with the ceremonial dagger.

My sisters, all participated, even Darren. In the past, it was always just the previous Luna and the Alpha, so this was new. Araeya and Kieran, Elaeya’s father, also provided blood.

She started to sing again as she mixed it, then went to Elaeya, gave her the bowl to hold, and used it to draw a long line on her forehead, then to her chin, and she added a few others on her forehead and cheeks, and two long lines at the top of her shoulders going down her arms.

Then Elaeya went to all of us in order of seniority to draw a line that started between the eyebrows and went up mid forehead.

She came to me last and once she did the first line added three on my chin.

Then she went to the center to make her standard pledge.

The fires went wild as if hit by massive amount of wind that we could not feel, and I began hearing a strange buzzing sound, straight in my mind.

Once Elaeya finished her pledge, she bowed her head to the pack in respect, which was not part of the ritual, and the buzzing cleared, and it was like something unplugged.

“Well, I’ll be fucking damned,” said Alik just beside the dais.

“I looked at him confused.”

He smiled at me, his mouth unmoving, by I heard the words clearly in my mind.

‘Thought transference,’ he said. ‘What you guys used to call mindlink’

“Mindlink?” I said aloud, aghast.

“Dear stars above,” said my father, his eyes wide. “We can mindlink?”

“Yep!,” said the wizard. “It’s a lost skill, but I guess what you needed was an actual Luna to do that. You know, the real deal.” He inclined his head deeply in respect to Elaeya, who looked impassive, but I knew she was as surprised as me. And then he inclined to her mother in acknowledgement to what she had done.

“That was how the ceremonies were done in the past, wasn’t it?” I asked him.

The crowd was shrouded in silence, listening intently to our conversation.

“I don’t know, but it was close enough to give us long lost perks, even to the non-wolf members. That must mean everything was done right.”

I nodded at him, and inclined my head at Araeya, in equal respect and amazement. Then I smiled at my new Luna.

She was still reeling from what was happening.

“Is mindlink the only perk we’re getting?” asked my grandfather to Alik.

That got everyone’s attention.

“Only time will tell,” he answered. “But expect side-effects.”

“Good or bad?” asked my father.

“Depends on your definition,” said Alik truthfully. “But there’s a reason why spirit wolves were so valued.”

All eyes turned to Elaeya, and I felt her wanting to melt into the floor.

So I decided to help out a bit, I walked to her, took her in my arms and raised her up to kiss her.

That got us a few catcalls.

“Keep some for the weeding,” said some random dude on the crowd, to a few laughs.

I gave him the finger which got more laughers, and I kept kissing her until I felt the tension leave her. Which was long enough to garner more catcalls.

I guess change is not such a bad thing after all.