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“We say no!”
Cheers went up at this, the youths now dancing with considerable grace, some of the other younger members of the village running to join them. They twisted and twined, looking for all the world like flames personified.
“Mead… mead… mead…!” cried the crowd as the dancers twirled, making circuit after circuit around the fire. Great brown bottles were handed out among those sitting down on chairs or cushions or even bare stone, and they took great swigs from the bottles before passing them on.
“For your pack’s strength,” Ralnor said, handing one to us. It was huge and heavy, several litres at least. “May it bring strength to Branwen and allow the sun to shine again.”
Hmm, I’d seen who they called Branwen—both in human and wolf form—and wasn’t entirely sure how the two meshed, as they seemed very different. I guess the same could be said for me and my Tirian, bossy bitch that she was.
I merely refuse to accept the stupidity you have been raised to believe.
Yeah, right.
“Who the hell is Branwen?” Finn asked.
I shared with my pack the vision I’d seen when in Sylvan’s head, which caused a shuffle of interest in the group.
The guys started passing the mead, Aaron’s men particularly pleased at this.
“Don’t go too hard,” Aaron warned. “We roll out at first light, with or without you.”
They all said the right things, but the way the bottle was being distributed, I seriously doubted it. An opportunity to sleep somewhere safe from wildlife was not one to turn your nose up at. I reclined back as the young dancers pulled back from the fire and sat down in a loose ring, someone’s arms going around me. Brandon looked down at me with a smile, tugging me closer until I leaned against his chest. I felt a trill of something—pleasure, satisfaction, or some kind of combination of them both. There was a thread accompanying it, of this being something he’d foreseen or hoped for, but I wasn’t worried about Brandon’s seer abilities anymore, something that had him relaxing under me. I felt around in my jacket pocket for Brandon’s book. I still hadn’t managed to find the time to sit down and read, but was reassured by the weight.
The sound of music had my head jerking around, and I saw that some of the men had evidently dug out their instruments. They played a strange skirling melody, but the slow sinuous beat was familiar enough. One of the young women got to her feet and began to dance, her hips and arms moving with a kind of taunting sassiness that soon got the attention of the rest of the group, including some of Aaron’s men.
“Moonie, can we—”
“No. This is obviously some kind of religious festival, and if you get involved, you might find yourself married or something. Think of all the attention you’ll get from the single women when you return home the conquering hero?” Aaron replied.
But the young men of the village weren’t so constrained, several attempting to get to their feet to answer the challenge she threw down, but the first up wove the rest of them away. He stood for a second, just appreciating the girl’s movements, then started to perform a few of his own.
It was like some kind of dance battle, I realised. The girl backed away from the boy, her steps intricate and mesmerising but moving faster and faster as the musicians struggled to keep up. The boy responded in turn, his steps growing more expansive as he pursued her. Lonan and Branwen, I thought as they spiralled around the fire, the black wolf chasing the white. Until this black wolf stumbled.
The girl’s smirk was triumphant, her dance slowing to the previous more sinuous one, the music changing pace to match her. But not for long, the young men who had previously attempted to challenge her stood up, and the cycle began again.
It was just kids dancing before a fire as alcohol was shared, something that happened all around the world. I’d done it a few times myself back in the day, but there was something compelling about it. Night had well and truly fallen by now, and since there were only dim lanterns around as an alternate light source, the fire caught your eyes and wouldn’t let go. I felt the guys straighten beside me, leaning forward as the dance began to spiral faster again with several men now trying their luck. Their coordinated approach resulted in plates being dropped on the ground before us, as eyes followed every way the men echoed and countered the girl’s moves.
I heard the hum in my ears as the men closed in on the girl, her steps now beginning to fumble. The sound became a croon, seductive and enticing as she fought to keep her footing, forced to move faster to keep ahead of the guys. White hair flared out like white fur flashing, green eyes bright as lasers as she proclaimed her defiance. Men got to their feet at this, including a few of Aaron’s men, and it took a few sharp comments from a harried looking Aaron to get them to sit down. And then, she stumbled.
The girl’s face was stricken for a moment as her arms waved in a futile attempt to stay upright, saved only by two of the men as they swooped in, wrapping their arms around her before her head hit the stones. She paused for a moment, as if unable to believe she’d been caught, before a smile spread across her face, and then both men crowded in to bestow kisses on her soft lips.
“Ayash! Your daughter will have strong warriors from this pairing,” Ralnor exclaimed, and there was a chorus of back slapping and cheers amongst the Uldariel men, as if it was them that had been dancing up a storm. Then the next girl stood up.
The bottle had been circulated way too many times, all of us rocking a nice buzz, which along with the full stomach and warm presence of my mates was a perfect way to end the day. The young people still danced, but the crowd participation had grown considerably more boisterous as the alcohol flowed. People shouted encouragement, for the girl or the boys or sometimes both, seemingly invested in the fight between the two rather than the inevitable capture. Then came her.
She walked into the fire circle from the darkness between several buildings, and it immediately became clear why. No mere maid with pretty dance steps, this woman wore a uniform similar to the men—well-fitting black leather, though with strategic panels fitted to give the garment some stretch. And she’d need it. The remaining men stood, because on her head she wore the white skull of a wolf, its pelt forming a headdress that spilled down her shoulders. She called to the crowd in a long, yodelling howl that should have sounded ridiculous. Humans trying to match those eerie notes usually just sounded like someone who’d stubbed their toes on every piece of furniture in the house, but not her. My vision sharpened as I inspected her more closely. She had a decisive tilt to her head as she regarded the crowd with an imperious gaze I’d not seen in other Uldariel women, but other than that, she didn’t look any different to anyone else, with the exception of her clothes.
Yet, when she moved, she did so not so much with the dance steps of the others, but more with the quick-footed movement of a wolf as it padded through the forest. My vision blurred. As I blinked, I saw for a moment a white wolf superimposed over the woman, which disappeared as soon as my eyes cleared.
The hum rose as I felt the pressure on my bladder. I put the sound to one side, putting it down to yet more metaphysical bullshit as I faced a problem I hadn’t yet thought about—where the toilets were.
“Guys, do you know where…”
My voice trailed away as I saw their entire focus was on the fire now. Every single muscle quivered as they held themselves rigid. I might have a better chance of getting their attention if I stripped down and started running around naked, but I wasn’t completely sure of that. I shook my head and got to my feet, feeling it swim as I did so.
“You OK?” Slade asked as I staggered slightly, but he didn’t wait for an answer as his eyes snapped back to the woman.
Perhaps because now she did perform a dance, but it was no neat, precise thing like the other girls. It was more like when you see those avant-garde dancers performing some inscrutable combination of moves that you had no hope of understanding unless you were some kind of dance aficionado, but they were performed with such total passion, you half wished you were. The hum grew louder as she seemed to spell out clearly to the audience her disdain, her refusal to bow before the wall of menfolk before her.
