I smile, trying not to look frightening.
“Michaela Alexandrovna Miasnikov,” Aliah whispers to the boy. Relieved, he repeats my full name as several of the others struggle not to laugh. She goes on with Nate echoing her, “We offer you our friendship eternal and our love unconditional. We beg you to accept it. And we hope you will meet us with friendship and love.”
“The ring!” someone hisses.
A box is thrust towards me.
Trying not to shake too noticeably, I take the box, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a fox running along it. It's beautiful. But... What does accepting it mean?
My attention slides up to Aliah. She smiles softly. “You'd be a friend of the den.” Her voice is quiet, but steady. There's no hint of uncertainty in it. “It's like being an honorary member.”
An honorary member of the den?
I cast my gaze around the gathering. The foxes watch with growing tension as my response time stretches out.
I go back to Aliah. “You all want me to do this?”
“The vote was unanimous."
Bet her sister didn't vote, though.
Looking over the faces waiting for my response, I realize how stupid it would be to hurt all of these friends, and myself, to avoid upsetting someone I don't even like.
A grin breaks forth as I take the ring from its little box, sliding it onto the ring finger of my right hand. The fit is perfect.
The foxes clap.
“To Anchorage!” Tod cheers, leaping to his feet.
“What?”
He grins as I squint in bewilderment.
“The elders said they wanted to meet you if you said yes,” Sam tells me before aiming a mild glare at her brother. “She needs time to change first though.”
“Why?” Confusion mars his features. The eyes that run over me seem completely oblivious. “She looks fine.” He smiles towards me. “You look fine.”
“Five minutes,” I reply, sprinting up the stairs.
Grabbing a pair of corduroys and a clean sweater takes about three minutes. I dash down the stairs slightly ahead of schedule to find Tod sitting at the foot of them, watching the carpet with mild bemusement. “You looked fine,” he tells me as I sit beside him.
My reaction is a combination of a laugh and a snort. “Not fine enough for meeting people described as elders.”
His head tilts to the side. “But they're family.”
Chuckling softly, I shrug. “Yeah, well, I wouldn't let my blood relatives catch me running around in stained clothing, so I don't see why my adopted relatives should get to do it.”
A smile spreads across his face before he rolls his eyes. “It must be a girl thing. Sam and Aliah ran to their rooms, too, and they knew we were going somewhere.”
I shrug again. “Maybe they assumed I'd say no.”
“I thought you were going to for a few seconds,” he confesses.
With a soft smile, I shake my head. “And make poor Nate go through all that stress for nothing?” I ask. Absently, I twist the new ring around on my finger. “Why did you make him ask me, anyway? I was afraid he was about to pass out.”
“He's the youngest.” Eyes on his boots, Tod goes on, “Usually it would have been the den leader, but we figured if I were to come at you with a ring babbling about unconditional love, you would understandably flee into the arctic never to be seen again.” He offers me a rueful smile.
“Yeah... Probably...” I laugh. “Because, you know, then I would have been even more scared of Lyly's reaction.”
His eyes narrow some. “That's what the hesitation was about?”
“She wasn't part of that unanimous vote,” I state with confidence.
“No, she wasn't.” His sigh is heavy and heartfelt. “I don't know what's wrong with her. It just isn't like her to be this malicious.”
“I know it isn't.”
He squints. “You know?”
Shrugging, I look down at the floor. “You love her.” I attempt a smile even though the statement fills me with dismay. “So there has to be more to her than what I've seen.”
“Unless I'm just stupid.”
“Unless you're just stupid,” I agree with a series of nods. He's clever, to be sure, but that's not the same thing as smart.
“What do you mean unless you're stupid?” Sam asks, bouncing down the stairs with Aliah behind her. “It's a given you're a moron.”
“What would I do without you to keep me humble?” Shaking his head, Tod climbs to his feet, then puts a hand down to help me up so we can leave.
We stop at the town's general store, which is also its only gas station. Tod and Aliah go inside to pick up some snacks while Sam and I put gas into Tod's battered little car. “Is there anything special you want?” Tod asks, walking backwards toward the building, the bitter wind playing with his bright hair.
“I'm sure anything you pick out will be special.”
He laughs. “I consider that a challenge.”
Grinning, I square my shoulders. “I'm not scared!”
“Hey!” Sam hits the roof with a dull thump. “Stop flirting with my brother and close the door. You're going to let all of the heat out.”
There's not much heat in it to begin with, but I close the car door anyway. “I wasn't flirting with your brother.”
“Were too.”
I consider. Really, honestly, consider the idea. “No.”
“Why not?" Her hands fly to her hips, and her foot makes a diminutive stomp. “What's wrong with my brother?”
“Nothing!” In warding, I fling my hands in front of me, palms toward my friend. “Nothing is wrong with your brother!” I pause briefly. “Unless you count his psycho girlfriend.”
Sam grins and gives her hair a toss. “I'm just messing with you. We're sisters now, so I can do that.”
I start to laugh. Then the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my glee dies as I turn my head, looking for the source of my discomfort.
It's not terribly shocking to find Warren watching me, an unhappy expression on his face.
“Be right back, Sam.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Just abandon us.”
Smiling, I wave her off and walk over to the wolf. He shuffles as if thinking to leave without talking to me, but stands his ground.
“Warren,” I say.
“Michaela,” he says.
We blink at each other.
Slowly, he reaches out and takes my chilled, ungloved hand into his warm, ungloved hand. He brings it up toward his face, his touch ever so gentle. My heart races. His thumb rubs against my new ring. “It's pretty,” he whispers.
How did he know it was there?
“I'm glad you're feeling better,” he says, louder. He starts to move away, starts to drop my hand, but my fingers instinctively latch onto his. I tug gently against his motion of retreat.
“Warren?”
His eyes wide with surprise, he looks down at our hands and then up to in question.
“We're going to Anchorage. Do you want to come?”
The offer is impulsive, but feels right.
Dizziness starts to creep up on me as I wait for his answer without bothering to breathe.
The corners of his mouth tug upwards. “Are they taking you to the mall or to see their parent den?” he asks.
My thumb rubs against the back of his hand. It tingles. “I'm to be presented to the elders.”
“And you want to take a wolf into a den of aging foxes?” There is soft, affectionate, laughter in his voice.
Shrugging, I smile through my nerves. “For all we know, I'm a wolf.”
The grin he has been holding back breaks out.
“So?” I prompt.
The grin fades, and I know the answer before he shakes his head. “I can't. I have to stay here and keep my dad from killing someone.”
Okay, I knew half of the answer. Is it too much to hope the rest was a joke?
His fingers squeeze my hand. “Go
od luck though.”
“Yeah, you too...”
My hand is suddenly freezing as he moves away with a sad smile and a nod. “See you Monday.”
“See you,” I repeat, somewhat fuzzily.
He turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps away. He stops and turns, blinking when he realizes I haven't moved. “Michaela?”
“Yeah?” I can hardly hear the word over the blood rushing around in my ears. Or maybe that's the wind...
“You should be wearing gloves.”
Gloves?
This time when he turns, he doesn't turn back. At least not before Sam calls me back to the car.
“What was that?” Tod asks with a playful look as I climb into the passenger seat beside him.
“I have no idea.” And I'm not being evasive. I have no idea what just happened.
In my pocket, there's a pair of gloves I hadn't thought of before. I pull them out, sliding them on as Tod pulls out of the parking lot.
Warren stands in the doorway to Denali's as we pass by and I raise a now-gloved hand to him, wriggling my fingers in a wave.
The amused smile he gives me warms me more than the extra gear.
The feeling lasts all the way to Anchorage, helped along by foxes who sing merrily along with the satellite radio feed and give me an endless stream of sugary candies.
I try to get them to talk about the den, but all Tod will give me is an annoying, “You'll see.”
“They aren't scary,” Aliah calls over the stereo. Which means a lot, coming from someone as timid as Aliah. “Don't worry about it.”
Still, my insides are a trembling mass of paranoid worry as I walk into a cute little restaurant to find the Mother of the elder den waiting for us in the corner.
Huge windows let in a view of the water behind her, the sunlight reflecting off it with a brittleness that somehow implies cold. The woman smiles at us with Tod's smile, and I give his arm a light smack. “You didn't say your aunt was the den mom.”
“She's not,” he hisses into my ear. “That's my grandmother.”
Sam rushes forward to hug the older vixen, even though they must have seen each other at the meeting last night. Grandma Fox looks younger than I expected, appearing to be closer to thirty than to the upper-side of fifty, where she should logically be, at minimum. Honestly, she doesn't look anywhere near old enough to have an eighteen-year-old grandson. When you get down to it, she doesn't even look old enough to have an eighteen-year-old son.
“You must be Michaela,” she greets me, her arm around Sam's shoulders. She's just as short as my friend, telling me where Samantha got her lack of stature from. She smells of cigarettes, the first were I've met who did so. “I'm Emma. And, yes, you should call me that.”
Still nervous, but feeling better due to the fact she's so obviously related to my foxes, I hold out a hand to her. “Hi, Emma. Call me Mike.”
“Mike.” Her smiles widens while she shakes my hand. Her eyes go to Tod. “You're right, I like her.”
“Tod was right about something!” Sam exclaims. “Write it down!”
Emma gives her a light smack and motions her to sit. Sitting herself, she turns her smile to Aliah. “It's good to see you, Aliah. How've you been?”
“Alright?” Despite her assurances I shouldn't worry about any of the den, Aliah looks awfully uncertain as she perches herself on the edge of a chair and gives Emma a wavering smile.
“And your family?”
There's a visible wobbling of her posture. “Mom just got a promotion. And Dad's...” She smiles fondly. “He's got a hold of a 67 Mustang GT.”
“Really?” Emma laughs and smiles at the waiter as he appears to fill up water glasses. “In good shape?”
“Falling apart.” Aliah follows the report with a happy grin.
“Good.” The elder nods. “Then it will keep him busy for a while.”
There's a short silence. I'm not the only person who is painfully aware Aliah has another family member she isn't mentioning. I'm also not alone in not wanting to be the one to say her name.
Pointedly, Emma looks at the waiter, “Another barley wine, please.”
We order drinks, and the waiter goes to fetch them while we read over the food menus.
“I want to speak to Michaela alone,” Emma informs us as soon as the waiter leaves again with our meal orders. She grabs her new glass of beer as she gets up. “We'll be outside.”
I would rather the others have been sent outside, but Emma isn't the sort of person one argues with.
Frigid air hits us when we slip through a side door into a small stone yard. There's a fountain in the middle of it, completely drained. I wonder what percentage of the year the thing is operational.
Emma lights a cigarette, leans against the edge of a concrete table, and regards me with steady eyes. I don't know how she can stand the smell of her tobacco, let alone the burn of it. The second hand smoke hurts much more than it did when I was human. “How is my grandson really doing?”
Not what I expected her to ask.
“I've only known him for two weeks.” I sit on a bench near Emma's perch. Upwind of her. She nods and waves me on, smoke trailing behind her hand. “He's hurt. But surviving.”
Again, she nods. “That girl...” The words are filled with venom and can only refer to Lyly. “She is...” She sighs instead of finishing. Holding her cigarette carefully between two fingers, she grabs her glass in the same hand and takes a long sip of the dark beer. “What do you think of her?”
“Didn't you order wine?” I blurt, panicking.
A long laugh answers me. “Barely wine is a style of beer, dear. And I'm sure you didn't expect me to give up that easily.”
No, I guess I didn't. Sighing, I opt to go with the truth. “I can't stand her.”
“Neither can I,” she admits baldly.
“There has to be more to her than we see though.” I search her face for some clue that she agrees with me, but don't find one. “Something Tod sees...”
She snorts and puts the beer glass down. “Tod's a teenage boy. I know exactly what he sees in her.”
Ah... Well... Lyly is inarguably hot. However, “I don't think Tod's that shallow.”
Emma doesn't look convinced of it herself, but she shrugs and takes a drag off of her cigarette rather than arguing. “He seems different this breakup,” she tells me thoughtfully. “It used to be when they were having troubles, he was depressed. The first time she dumped him, I think he cried for the whole three weeks they were apart.” And I'm so sure he'd want his grandma telling people about it. “But then he stopped caring so much. And now, there seems to be an anger boiling under the surface.”
I've noticed a hint of that too, but I'm not very comfortable with this conversation, so I don't volunteer my observations. Emma flicks some ash to the ground, her eyes intent on reading my expression.
She takes another swallow of beer before asking a new question. “Do you know why you were invited to join with the den today?”
That's more a topic I was expecting to be broached.
“Today,” Emma clarifies. “Rather than after your change proves you're a fox and due admission anyway?”
Now that she mentions it, it would have made more sense to wait, even though the odds are severely against me being a fox.
I shake my head. “No, I don't.”
“It's because of that girl.” She covers a snarl with another puff of her cigarette. “Lyly is bringing a complaint against you.”
“A complaint?”
Emma's eyes roll, making her look exactly like an older version of Sam. “She thinks you're a threat to the den's well-being.”
“How?” I ask.
“You're sowing contention.”
“Bullshit!” My eyes widen as I resist an urge to slam my hand over my mouth, but Emma smiles at the exclamation.
“You are making waves,” she states calmly.
“She's jealous because she knows I've bee
n spending a lot of time with Tod. But she hasn't been paying enough attention to know there's nothing to be jealous about.”
“Nothing at all?” Emma's voice is quiet, and she watches me very closely.
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