“I thought we could skip ahead until we’re both older.” Lyall drops his arm from my shoulders and takes my hand as we walk the stretch of pier toward the rental shack. Once we’re in our boat and far enough from shore that nobody should notice, Lyall opens a portal with the branch of Yggdrasil.
This time when we pass through, the sensation is less unpleasant. It still feels like tripping on my way down the stairs, but at least I don’t feel nauseous this time. It’s night here in the past. The full moon hangs overhead, and stars blanket the sky. We drag the boat ashore and walk the path to the village. Lyall leads the way, my hand in his, walking with confidence while I trip and stumble in the dark.
“Stop laughing,” I grumble after almost falling on my face.
“Stop amusing me then,” he counters, “unless you’d like for me to carry you?”
“Don’t you dare!”
Distant howls drown out his answering laugh. A chill runs down my spine. “Fuck!” I look every which way, but I can’t see for shit in the darkness.
“It’s all right,” Lyall assures me, leading metowardthe howling rather than away. “It’s my pack. We’re celebrating.”
“What?”
“You.”
Curious but still unsettled, I grip his hand tight and let him guide me through the dark. Soon enough, torches light the village road, although the village itself appears empty.
“Where is everyone?”
“This way.” Lyall guides me along a dirt road east from the village. Torches flicker ahead like fireflies. Drums thunder through the woods, vibrating the ground. There’s a crowd gathered in a clearing in the middle of the woods. Many are humanoid, but others have shifted fully to wolves and watch whatever is in the center of the circle with an awareness that’s all too human.
We pass through the crowd like ghosts and stop when we’ve made it to the front.
A man with long dark hair kneels before an altar. Bones and wolf fur decorate the stony surface. A wolfskull has been mounted to the structure, empty eyes gazing down at the man prostrate before it. The man who, when he lifts his head, looks startlingly similar to me. I barely recognize him. His hair is long and braided; his beard is full but neat. Blood smears his lips and clots in his beard.
A shiver runs through me. This man is nothing like the scared little boy Erik brought to the village. He’s a man now, wild and fierce. The crowd parts, allowing Erik to make his way toward us. In his arms, he carries a mound of wolf fur. He stops before Past Soren, who gazes up at Erik not with fear, but with something close to reverence.
The drums fall silent, and the wolves stop howling.
In the quiet, it’s as if the wilderness itself holds its breath.
Erik says, “You are one of us now. Blood of our blood, flesh of our flesh. We are your pack. I am your Alpha. You will never hunt or howl alone in this life.”
Past Soren’s face softens into a smile. “Thank you, Alpha. All of you.” He looks past us at someone. I turn, heart tripping when I spot a younger version of the man beside me. Past Lyall has shaken off the gangliness of youth. He’s grown out a golden beard and a mane of hair, and his body is hard and trained for battle. When he smiles, it’s full of pride and warmth and… love. There’s no other way to interpret how he’s looking at my past self.
Past Soren throws the furs over his shoulders, and a spasm runs through his body. His shift is nothing likeLyall’s, which is fluid as water. His limbs jerk. His bones creak. He throws back his head and screams through a mouthful of bloody fangs. The fur comes alive, wrapping around him only to recede.
“Soren!” Past Lyall breaks from the crowd and crashes into the dirt beside him. “I know it hurts. Don’t fight it. I’m here. Right here.”
Past Soren’s eyes are wide and wild as he snarls, “L-Lyall…”
Past Lyall takes his face in his hands. “You can do this. This is who you were meant to be. You’re part of our pack and always will be.”
The furs settle over Past Soren’s skin, consuming him until the man has disappeared and only a wolf remains.
Beside me, Lyall smiles. “You did so well.”
“I did? That looked agonizing.”
“You were scared. Most are before they accept the change. Before the ceremony, you told me you were worried you wouldn’t make a good wolf, that you’d be thrown out of the pack and lose your family all over again.”
My wolf self bounds among the crowd, most of whom have shifted or are in the process of shifting. Lyall’s gorgeous white wolf tackles him and they chase each other into the woods. It’s easy to distinguish Lyall and his brothers as well as their dad. They’re all huge, making the other wolves, even the full-grown ones, look like puppies.
A lump rises in my throat. “But that didn’t happen.” I had found a family in the past. One who loved me and accepted me as one of their own. “We looked close.”
Lyall nods. “Aye.”
