Nocturne

by Christine Johnson

  "Of course it is," Marie said. She looked like a hen ruffling its feathers. "Your body knows what it needs. Now drink up."

  Victoria drained the thermos, her cheeks flushing pink with the heat of the tea. "Done," she announced. Her eyes looked brighter, and with her rosy skin, she looked better— healthier—than she had in months.

  "Excellent."

  Marie turned to the group and began to chant, calling all their names.

  "You may transform," Marie announced.

  The women became wolves in the blink of an eye, and there was a great deal of prancing and yipping—the excitement they were all feeling brought with it the instinctive urge to move. Claire paced restlessly, anxious about what was coming. The only two wolves who were completely still were Marie, who sat with her head cocked in amusement, and Victoria, who lay curled around the baby, who slept.

  All right. Let us continue before anyone gets too carried away. Marie stood, pacing closer to Victoria and the baby.

  First, we will each give the baby our blessing—a wish for her future. Katherine? Perhaps you would like to begin. Marie withdrew slightly, still overseeing but giving the other wolves room to move closer to the baby.

  Katherine walked forward, nuzzling the tiny bundle the slightest bit. Her nose left a wet mark on the pink blanket. I wish you health, Little One. I bless you with it.

  She turned to Victoria. She's beautiful.

  Victoria thumped her tail on the ground wearily. Thank you. And thank you for your blessing.

  Katherine went back to her place in the circle, looking pleased.

  Judith came and stood near the baby, her posture serious, almost severe. I wish you patience. You will need much of it in your life. I bless you with it.

  She turned and retreated without saying anything to Victoria—without waiting for a response.

  Claire hung back, trying to figure out what to bless Victoria's daughter with. She didn't want to say something stupid. She wished she'd had more time to think about it, that her mother had told her about this part, too, and not just the giving-the-name stuff. She sighed.

  While Claire was lost in thought, Marie bent over the baby and blessed her with strength, followed by Beatrice, who lay down close beside the baby and Victoria and very quietly offered her a blessing of love.

  Seeing Beatrice and Victoria wrapped around the tiny baby made a wistful sort of longing rise in Claire's throat, halfchoking her. The feeling smelled so strong, she could taste it, like the bitter peel of an orange mixed with darkly sweet chocolate. The three of them looked so happy. Claire wanted what they had—wanted it desperately. That contentment. No one wanting the others to be more or less than they were.

  She stepped forward, and Beatrice got to her feet, grimacing as one of her knees popped.

  Your turn, Not-the-Littlest One.

  Claire crouched near the baby, breathing in the milky pure smell of her breath, the scent of her skin.

  I bless you with happiness. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, she saw Victoria nuzzled in close to the baby, who had awoken.

  Thank you. Thank you all for such amazing gifts. I'm sure she will be all of those things—have all of those things—and more.

  Claire backed away, watching Victoria and her daughter stare at each other, the infant's slate blue eyes studying the enormous wolf in front of her.

  It is time for the naming. Marie nudged Victoria gently. Are you ready?

  Claire's heart began to thud again, her chest aching from so much stress in one night.

  Victoria lowered her head. I guess so. What . . . what do I . . . She hesitated.

  Marie sat down. Tell her the name you have chosen. The rest will sort itself out.

  Claire didn't like the sound of the second part. Forcing herself not to worry, not to think, she watched as Victoria bent low over her daughter. The movement drew the baby's atten tion, and she turned to look at her mother. There was a serious, determined expression on her little face, and her tiny rosebud lips sucked hungrily at the air.

  Victoria's nose nearly brushed the earth.

  Hi, Little One. You have good friends here. They have helped me, and they will help you. And when they do, they will call you by your name. And your name, my daughter, is Aura.

  From deep in the forest came the roaring howl of an approaching wind thundering through the pines like an enormous animal. Victoria threw herself over Aura, and Claire braced herself instinctively just as the gale whipped into the clearing. It slammed into her side, rocking her. Fear and elation raced through her. Whatever was happening was either very good or very bad, but she had a clear sense that the naming had somehow made it happen.

  The wind tore through the center of the clearing. Claire worried it would fan the flames of the ceremonial fire, scatter the sparks into the flailing, fluttering undergrowth, but it didn't. The fire simply died, blown out like a candle.

  As quickly as it had come, the gust stopped, leaving the wolves shaken. They crouched in the dark clearing, their fur full of leaves and twigs. Stunned. Silent.

  Marie shook out her coat, padding quickly over to Victoria. Is Aura all right?

  Victoria hesitated. I think so. She seems to be.

  On the ground, still swaddled in her blankets, the baby began to fuss in an empty, pathetic sort of way.

  I would like to pick her up. To be sure. She sounds as though she may be hungry. Victoria looked from Aura to Marie and back, her ears flicking wildly.

  Of course. I would normally say a few closing words, but the ceremony is—obviously—over. I have never—she stopped. Well. Let us transform. We can discuss it then, before Claire finishes demonstrating her skills. We will have to relight the fire, but that's as good a way as any to separate the two ceremonies.

  Marie turned to the rest of the wolves. Claire eased out of her defensive stance, her muscles shaking in protest.

  You may transform, Marie announced.

  Victoria was the only one who immediately changed form. She scooped Aura up and hurried off to find her clothes. The rest of the wolves ranged into the woods, searching for the clothes that had been scattered by the wind. It didn't take Claire long—the scents of detergent and human skin stood out in the forest. She transformed among the trees, dressing quickly and then reaching up to retrieve a last sock that had been caught in the low branches of a scrubby tree.

  She hurried back to the gathering, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold, trying to shut out her confusion about what had just happened. She wasn't sure if she should be expecting celebration or condemnation in the clearing—she had either seriously helped Victoria or seriously misled her. The other wolves were already in the clearing, huddled

  close for warmth. Victoria sat on a fallen log, nursing Aura.

  "Claire's back," Katherine said.

  The others turned to look at Claire. She waited, her heart pounding—pouncing—in her chest.

  "You should be very pleased," Marie said to Victoria, pride glittering in her eyes.

  "I didn't do it alone," Victoria said. "Claire helped me."

  "Really?" Marie looked startled.

  "I tried to," Claire said. "Victoria helped me so much with the fire—I was just trying to do the same for her." The frenetic beat of her heart let up the tiniest bit. "So—that was supposed to happen?"

  Beatrice said "more or less" at the same moment that Judith said "Yes."

  Beatrice snorted. "Come on, Judith, be fair. At every naming I've ever been to, we've watched the fire—and hard—for any sign that even a little part of it had gone out. Once, years ago, my mother spoke of a naming where a branch fell out of the fire, putting out its flames as it rolled."

  Katherine shivered. "I've never seen anything even remotely like that."

  Marie smiled. "You see, Claire, the Goddess takes part of the fire as her tithe—it is the sacrifice we make for the name. The story goes that the more fitting the name that is chosen, the greater the sacrifice—the larger t
he portion of the fire that is extinguished."

  Claire turned the words over in her mind, happiness stretching inside her like a bent-winged bird. "So, since the whole fire went out—"

  "Not just 'went out,'" Beatrice crowed. "It was blown out, Young One."

  "Yes," Marie said. "It means what you think it means. That the name was exactly right."

  Victoria glowed. She stared down at Aura, and her whole body was suffused with light and happiness. Claire felt her throat tighten. There would be no bad luck for this baby. Not with all the blessings they'd given her. Not with a name that had gotten that sort of reaction.

  "All right, everyone," Marie said. "It is getting late, and there is still much to be done. Victoria, perhaps you should take Aura. There is no need to drag her through any more tonight, and you cannot take her on the hunt, anyway."

  Irritation briefly creased Victoria's features, but her face smoothed out when she looked down at Aura, who was such a tiny bundle in the black enormity of the forest.

  "Yes," she murmured. "I think I will take her home." She looked up at Claire. "If you need me, you call. I'll come. You know that, right? You did so much for Aura—there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Nothing." Her gaze burned brightly enough to blind Claire to everything else.

  "Thank you," Claire said softly.

  Victoria nodded, standing up carefully so that Aura wouldn't be jostled.

  When the two of them had left, Judith and Beatrice quickly built another pile of wood in the center of the clearing.

  Marie turned to Claire. "You've already lit the fire. Do you want to do it again? You do not have to. Not tonight."

  Judith's expression turned to flint, but Claire was still burning from the success of the naming and from Victoria's loyalty. She was scorching with it.

  "I'll light it." She stepped close to the pile.

  Marie lifted an eyebrow. She looked surprised.

  She also looked very much like she approved.

  Claire glanced at the wood, feeling the fire so strongly that it flared to life effortlessly. She could almost see the sparks leaping from her fingertips. The force of the sudden blaze created a breeze in the clearing, and Claire's hair drifted across her cheek.

  She didn't even bother to look over at Judith. She didn't care what her reaction was. Her mother's square-shouldered pride was enough.

  "Well, you've obviously mastered that skill," Marie said quietly. "Let's transform."

  Claire's four paws hit the ground before anyone else's. Next to her, Beatrice let out a wolfy version of a chuckle.

  Marie gave a silencing grumble.

  Since you are transformed, you may show us your far-reaching ability to hear.

  Pleased at the surprised expression that lit Judith's eyes, Claire turned to face the fire, wrapped her tail close around her body, and let out a long, whistling breath through her nose. She shook out her fur, trying to relax her body enough that the other wolves would be able to read the voices she heard in her head in her posture and scent.

  She decided to listen for Matthew—he was easy for her to hear. She imagined the sound of his voice, all warm, round vowels and the way his laugh rumbled in his chest.

  "No, 's not like that. You don' understand."

  Claire could hear a voice answering Matthew, but she couldn't quite make out what it was saying, and she couldn't figure out why his voice sounded slurred. She focused harder.

  "Jus' drop it. Please. I'm going to get 'nother beer." Matthew again.

  He was slurring because he was drunk.

  The realization sent such a wave of embarrassment through Claire that she was sure the others could smell it. Judith sniffed the air and gave a quiet, amused bark.

  Claire's concentration fell, and she was snapped back into the clearing, the fire hot on her face, the other wolves staring at her, their ears laid back. She looked around at the pack. Uh, maybe I should try to listen for Victoria instead.

  Judith cocked her head to one side. Is this ability failing you, too?

  A growl rose in Claire's throat before she could stop it. How dare Judith question her? After she'd worked so hard, done so much, was it really possible that she hadn't proved herself to this stupid she-wolf who would never come close to being as powerful as Claire's mother was, as powerful as Claire herself intended to become? She felt her lips pulling back into a snarl.

  Claire! Enough! Marie barked.

  The ring of her mother's bark—the Alpha's bark—in Claire's ears was enough to shake her out of her angry display. She hung her head, arching her back in an effort to look as sorry as she suddenly felt. She hadn't meant to explode like that. It had just been too much—to be questioned, doubted, after she'd finally succeeded.

  Beatrice sat back down, turned to Marie. May I?

  Marie dipped her head in assent. Of course.

  I can also listen to the speech of those who are far away. Beatrice stared hard at Judith, who lowered herself to the ground. I heard Matthew's voice, though perhaps not as well as Claire did.

  Beatrice glanced at Claire and tossed her head.

  To be honest, everything that Claire has just shown us would

  have been beyond my reach at her age. I know she is younger than you, Judith, and that she hasn't experienced all the things you have. But that is no reason to doubt her word. It is no reason to treat her like she has nothing to offer our pack. Her pack. To which she belongs every bit as much as you do.

  Judith pawed at her nose in apology, but Claire could see her ears pulling back in suspicion, just the tiniest bit, when her eyes turned in Claire's direction. Thank you, Beatrice. Marie stood and shook herself hard from head to tail.

  Katherine edged over and nudged Judith with her nose, urging her up.

  So, all that is left is the hunt. Marie stared hard at Claire. Are you ready?

  Claire's paws twitched against the ground in answer. Hell, yes, she was ready. There was no pressure for her in leading the hunt. Beneath her pelt, her muscles strained toward the woods, desperate for the release of running through the skeletal trees. Hungry for the single-minded focus of tracking prey.

  Let's go. She stood and padded purposefully into the woods, nose lifted, scenting the air. Smelling small animals, warm in their burrows. Fat birds roosting high in the trees. And somewhere to the west, far away, the faint scent of something big and warm.

  Without hesitating, Claire began to run, her nose working frantically to keep from losing the scent. She wove through the forest, her paws barely whispering against the leaves that littered the ground. The others trailed behind her, Marie close to her, the others farther away. There was no sign of their sprint through the woods, except for the tiny animals that fell silent as they passed. When they were only a few yards from her quarry, Claire circled around, flushing the deer from its hiding place and sending it scampering through the woods.

  Oh! We lost it. Katherine whimpered, panting hard.

  Of course we didn't. Claire bumped Katherine's flank with her hip as she raced back by the rest of the pack. It's headed for the clearing. C'mon, it's easier this way.

  There was no time to explain. Claire focused on the scented air in front of her, the faint snapping of twigs and bracken beneath the deer's hooves. Carefully, she drove the deer back toward the clearing, until they were only a few yards from the fire. Breathing hard, Claire put on a burst of careless speed, not caring how much noise she made. It didn't matter— the deer knew she was coming.

  Midstride, Claire crouched low and then leapt, landing on the deer's back and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Marie and Judith joined her at once, and in another minute, the deer lay dead on the forest floor. Claire tossed back her head and yipped. It was over.

  Judith stood over the deer's nut brown back, panting hard, her shoulders hunched.

  Well, you managed it, but Goddess, that was a long way to run.

  Claire stopped her prancing and stared straight into Judith's eyes, not bothered that the other
wolf ranked higher in the pack than she did. She was so over this.

  It's easier to run a long way than it is to drag a dead deer a half-mile through the forest with our teeth, she pointed out.

  Marie stepped between them. Enough. Judith, Katherine, help Claire and me bring the body into the clearing. The feast went by in a blur. Claire was half-elated that she'd done everything with no missteps and half-exhausted from the effort of trying so hard. By the time the remains of the deer were buried deep in the forest, Claire was more than ready to change back into her human skin and crawl into her bed.