She looked at the empty room and sighed. Her mother had shut herself in the darkroom after dinner, and there was nothing to do but wait. Reality shows and commercials blared from the television behind her, but Claire stared at the shadows on the lawn, willing them to lengthen. She could feel the fur itching underneath her skin.
A couple of hours after Lisbeth bounced up the stairs to announce that she was home and going to bed, Claire heard her mother’s soft knock. They crept down the stairs and out the back door in silence. When they were safely hidden in the deep woods, Claire’s mother turned to her.
“Claire, this is your second moon. You know that the change will be more complete for you this time, yes?”
She nodded. “How much different will it be?” she whispered.
Her mother shrugged. “It is unique for each of us. At your next moon you will change fully, but this time—there is no way to know for sure.” She stared into the woods, listening. “Are you ready?”
Claire nodded nervously and followed her mother farther into the trees. Eventually, the firelight flickered in the distance—they were close. Claire could see Beatrice, Victoria, Judith, and Katherine already in the clearing.
When she and her mother broke through the circle of trees, Victoria looked up at them, her face painted with fear. She threw her arms around Claire’s mother.
“Marie, I greet you.” Victoria’s voice shook. She hugged Claire and greeted her.
“It was good to see you at the coffee shop—you handled yourself perfectly, you know.”
“Oh—um, thanks. It was good to see you, too.”
Judith and Katherine skimmed their eyes over Claire the same way they had last time. It was like she was half-transparent to them. She fought an urge to roll her eyes.
Claire scanned the trees for any sign of Zahlia. The shadows were empty and still.
She turned to Beatrice. Anxiety tightened the wrinkles around the old woman’s eyes.
Once they had greeted each other, Victoria sniffed at the air. “Where is Zahlia? She can’t be late—not tonight of all nights!”
Beatrice eased herself off the log where she had been sitting and stood by the fire.
“We’ll have to start without her, I’m afraid.”
Claire arranged herself around the edge of the fire with the others. The idea of transforming in front of everyone sent needles of panic shooting through Claire’s limbs, even though she’d done it once before . She wished Zahlia were there—she’d feel a lot more comfortable. Her concern immediately turned to guilt. It didn’t seem right to be worrying about how she looked. Victoria could lose her baby any second.
Beatrice raised her wrinkled hands and took a breath. Before she could begin the chant, an enormous black wolf streaked into the forest, her lips flecked with white foam and her pelt marred with twigs and burrs. Zahlia had arrived.
Claire watched as Zahlia forced herself back into her human skin. She stayed on all fours on the forest floor, her ribs heaving and her black hair dripping sweat. Without bothering to greet any of them formally, she lifted her head and looked at Beatrice. “We are not alone in the forest. There is a seule—I smelled her on my way here, and when I approached, she ran. She headed east, toward town.” Zahlia rose to her feet, still panting, her eyes wild.
Claire felt her mother shift into a tense posture. Victoria looked torn, her lip caught between her teeth and her hands curled into fists at her sides. Only Beatrice remained calm.
“What does it mean, that she’s here?” Claire asked tentatively.
“A wolf without a pack is rare but not unheard of.” Her mother’s voice was flat. “Often they are frightened, or dangerous. Sometimes both.”
“Of course,” Zahlia said, her voice still breathless. “But this time, it may be more than that. She could be the one who is killing humans in town. We must catch her—question her. We cannot let this one go silently.”
“And we would hunt her to what end?” asked Judith, her hands on her hips. “Force her to join us? Demand she leave? Kill her?”
“I don’t think Zahlia was going to suggest tearing off into the woods without a plan.” Katherine pursed her lips. “But this doesn’t seem like the best time for strategizing.”
Beatrice stared into the fire for a moment, her hands raised, then shut her milky eyes.
“This ceremony cannot be delayed. We determine the fate of Victoria’s child, and then we will track the stranger.”
The scent of disappointment—bitter, almost charred—wafted off Zahlia as she slunk into place.
“Heya, Claire,” she muttered. “Everything okay?”
Claire nodded and her mother shot Zahlia a poison-dart look. Beatrice began to chant. Across the circle, Victoria sat with her arms wrapped around her midsection, staring hard into the fire. Her lips were pinched and tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes.