"Won't she be cold?" Claire whispered to her mother.
"No—or rather, she may feel the cold on her face, but infants of our kind are not susceptible to the temperature the way human babies are. It is the wolf blood in them." Marie wrapped an arm around Claire in a rare and unexpected gesture. "She is so very small. It reminds me of your naming. Though it was hot that night. Unbearably hot."
Claire stared at the baby, trying to imagine herself that small, to imagine a younger Marie holding her in the woods, waiting for her naming.
"We'll begin shortly—I hope both of you are ready. Beatrice? May I speak with you for a moment?" Marie stepped away, and Beatrice followed her.
Judith and Katherine drifted away, leaving Victoria and Claire alone.
"She's pretty," Claire said sincerely.
"Thanks." Victoria beamed. "You ready?"
"I think so." Claire leaned in. "So, I was thinking about the name thing last night. Please don't be mad—I . . . I listened to her. From the woods. Just to see if anything came to me. I would have asked you first, but I only thought of it last night, and there wasn't time. . . ."
Victoria's eyes widened. "Did you—did anything happen?" She didn't look like she minded having been listened in on. Actually, she looked like she was desperate for an answer.
"Her breath was so loud—so . . . clear." Claire hesitated. "I looked it up, and the name Aura—it means 'breath' in Latin."
Victoria froze and Claire panicked, worried that she'd offended her, that she'd ruined the closeness they'd built over the last couple of weeks by taking things too far with her suggestions.
"If you think it's not right, I'll totally understand, and I wouldn't want you to use it, but you did so much to help me, I just thought—"
"It's perfect," Victoria whispered. "Look at her. It's perfect. Oh my Goddess, Claire, I was going to name her after my great-grandmother, because I couldn't think of anything else that was right, but it still didn't really fit her. She doesn't look like a Rose. But Aura—" She looked up at Claire, her eyes damp. "Thank you."
Claire nodded, hoping she hadn't picked the wrong name—that the ceremony didn't go wrong somehow because of her idea. The realization crashed over her that she suddenly stood to fail twice tonight. If she was mistaken about the name, she'd have doomed herself and the baby both. But she couldn't leave Victoria all on her own. Not after Victoria had done so much to help with the fire lighting.
"Well." Marie cleared her throat. "Let's not keep Victoria out any longer than we need to. I am sure she is exhausted. Claire? Are you ready to begin?"
Claire looked over at the enormous pile of wood. She had maybe lit something close to that size, but it seemed to loom over her. Daring her to try and light it.
It was only a few steps from where she stood, but her nerves were so electrified that her limbs felt numb. Each step took an eternity. It was like wading through syrup. Her blood was humming with adrenaline, and she stared at the limbs. She closed her eyes for a moment, searching for an island of calm in her sea of panic. She couldn't do this if she was freaking out. She thought of Matthew, and in one sharp moment her anger laid bare everything she'd had trapped inside her. The worry and insecurity and trying to be perfect for everyone, all the time, stared back at her like glass-eyed dolls.
What the hell had she been doing?
The things she'd told Matthew earlier had been true.
This is who I am. No more balancing acts. No more werewolf side and human side. From now on, it's just me.
Confidence tore through her with a sound like ripping fabric. With everything inside her, she pushed back the veil of her human form—the thick, heavy, sticky web of it, seeing the fire as clearly as she'd just seen herself. What it was. What it could be. The heat that the branches held trapped inside, that could so easily be . . .
Released.
A hot yellow flame grabbed onto one of the branches deep in the middle, spreading itself out along the bark like a flag unfurling. There was a crackling. A pop. And then the heat poured out. It washed over Claire, unlocked her knees, and sent her tumbling to the ground.
"Claire!" Her mother exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
Claire lifted her head, staring at the roaring fire, and shook with joy and relief. It was over. She'd succeeded.
"I'm great," she whispered.
"Well. We've all seen that you can light the fire." A smile carved its way across Marie's face, and Claire could see her work to contain her happiness.
Victoria let out a little cheer, which startled the baby, who started to cry. Victoria glanced down, shushing her back to sleep.
Claire looked over at her and grinned, though the sight of the baby took a little of the glow off her elation. There was more at stake than just her, and she'd planted herself right in the middle of it.
Voluntarily.