So far, so good.
Zahlia, Judith, and Katherine arrived almost simultaneously, and greetings were offered. Zahlia turned to Beatrice and showed the older woman the side of her pale neck. Claire sensed the submission in her posture. Zahlia opened her mouth to speak, but Claire’s mom beat her to it.
“We should transform before we discuss the issue. It’ll be easier, and there’s less chance we’ll be overheard that way.” Claire’s mother scanned the woods around them with her sharp photographer’s eyes.
Zahlia looked up from her spot by the fire. “That’s not fair to Claire. You know she can’t fully transform. Besides, if we’re discovered in the woods, we’ll have bigger problems than having been overheard.”
“Claire is not permitted to participate in our discussion tonight—and she will still be able to hear us, even partially transformed.” Claire’s mother sounded irritated.
“Marie is right,” Judith said. “Since Claire won’t be any help, we need to do what’s best for everyone else.”
Claire crossed her arms. She was glad to have Zahlia sticking up for her, but having everyone talk about her like she wasn’t even there made her feel like a five-year-old who’d been caught coloring on the walls.
Everyone looked at Beatrice.
“Claire,” she said slowly. “I am sorry, but your mother is right. We need to remain as concealed as possible, and it is easier to do that in our wolf-forms. We will transform.”
Claire’s mother looked pleased that Beatrice had sided with her. Zahlia stiffened and walked over to sit next to Claire.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry they’re going to keep you muzzled tonight.”
At the edge of the firelight, Claire’s mother stalked back and forth impatiently.
Without waiting for Claire to respond, Zahlia got up and went to kneel in front of Beatrice. With her finger, she sketched a rough map in the dirt of the paths where she’d tracked the seule.
Claire’s mother shot an exasperated look at the back of Zahlia’s head.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, her voice tart as a lemon, “we could discuss your findings as a group, Zahlia?”
Anger skittered across Zahlia’s face as she turned to face Claire’s mom. “That’s not your command to give, Marie. Watch your place.”
“I am merely asking why we are waiting, Zahlia.”
Her mother’s cool restraint made Zahlia’s outburst seem childish. Claire’s mom had used the same move on her plenty of times, and it sucked.
“I was just trying to get a map drawn before we started. To cut down on the confusion.”
“She’s not wrong, Marie,” Katherine said. “We need to know where we’re looking.”
“Enough!” Beatrice’s voice was firm. “Zahlia is right—the map is important, and we have not wasted our time by having her draw it.”
Claire’s mother took a deep breath and sank down near the fire. “Certainly, Beatrice.”
Claire scooted back until she was in line with the other women, and her mother shot her a quick look that clearly said watch yourself.
She really doesn’t trust me at all. Claire gnawed on a ragged cuticle and focused on keeping her bitter feelings from trailing across her face.
“Well,” Zahlia huffed, “I didn’t mean to cause a delay.” She arranged herself on Beatrice’s right side, completing the circle. “I’ll be happy to discuss our strategies whenever you’re ready.”
She turned to Beatrice and bent her head so low that Claire could see the sharp part in her dark hair.
Beatrice got to her feet and raised both hands. She began to chant, and a hush fell over the women as they transformed.
When Claire looked around the firelit circle at the six wolves, a wave of hot jealousy rolled through her. It caught her off guard. She’d gotten used to the idea that she was not like everyone else—that she would change—but she’d never found herself wanting to be a wolf like this. Claire crossed her arms in front of her chest, her fur-covered fists clenched beneath her armpits. It didn’t make the longing that ached in her ribs any less intense, but at least she didn’t feel like she was about to fly apart.
Zahlia glanced in her direction, and Claire read the sympathy in the quick flick of her dark-furred ears. Claire hunched over in front of the fire, trying to hide her thoughts. She knew the others could read her body language like a news ticker on the bottom of a television screen, and she hated it.
Beatrice gave one rough bark, and the other wolves turned to face her, ready to begin.