After the eventful morning, the evening found the five of us seated at the dining table. A pile of sauteed mushrooms was the centerpiece of the meal, and the plate had been scooted by Duncan extra close to Bonnie. Some of the fungi were a little more blackened than they should have been.
Bonnie eyed the plate with a frown before she glared up at Duncan. “You overcooked them.”
Duncan winced and rubbed his fingers. I noticed they were more than a little singed. “You’re telling me, and the fire extinguisher.” Bonnie rolled her eyes but skewered several of them and plopped them on her plate.
“So do we need to know anything before the other werewolves arrive?” The questioner was me, and the question was aimed at not only Greylock, but the other elder wolves at the table.
Greylock took a sip of his drink before he set it on the table beside his empty plate. A small smile touched the corners of his lips. “You’re wondering if there are any manners you should learn.”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. I mean, do we sniff each other’s rears or shake hands?”
Duncan had been sipping his water when I made the comment. The water spewed back into the glass, and he pulled away to reveal a damp face. He wiped his face down and grinned at me. “I never thought of that. I’ll have to-”
“No,” Bonnie warned him.
Greylock chuckled. “Nothing quite so… bestial, I assure you. The members of the packs will wear their corresponding crest as a badge on their person.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Do we have a crest?”
Greylock’s eyes twinkled as he inclined his head. “We do, though I don’t advertise the crest in our home.”
That piqued my interest. “What is it?”
“A gray-maned wolf facing to the left with teeth bared.”
My eyebrows shot up and I nodded. “Nice. So, we get to wear that on a badge?”
“I’m making them right now,” Bonnie spoke up.
Duncan grinned at her and nudged her arm a little with his elbow. “You wouldn’t mind some company while you do that, would you?”
She frowned at him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I just thought I could help.”
Bonnie scoffed. “The last time you helped my shirt ended up having three sleeves and no hole for the head.”
“A minor mishap.”
Greylock coughed into his hand. “But back to the matter at hand, the decorum for our guests will be slightly more stringent than is normal for our home. Several leaders of the packs are rather-”
“Snooty,” Duncan spoke up.
Greylock cast a slightly scolding look at the werewolf. “They are rather proud of their standing in the community and believe that differential treatment is required for one in their position.”
“That means they need to be treated with kid gloves or the fangs come out,” Duncan quipped.
Bonnie stabbed a mushroom with prejudice and scowled at the fungus. “They should be slapped with them…”
Greylock leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips at the two elder werewolves. “I know this isn’t the best arrangement, but the council meeting is only two days. I’m sure we can tolerate their presence for that short a time.”
Bonnie threw down her fork onto her plate and leapt to her feet so quickly that her chair almost toppled over. She cast a glare at our pack leader. “Then you deal with them!” She spun on her heels and marched upstairs.
Greylock leaned his forehead against his splayed fingers and sighed. “Curse me for being so foolish as to accept this task...”
“Don’t worry about it,” Duncan assured him as he stood. “I’ll go see how she’s doing.” He left us alone with our half-finished meal.
Chris watched Duncan leave before he returned his attention to Greylock. “How much bad blood is there between this pack and the others?”
Greylock opened his eyes and chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. “A great deal.” He straightened in his chair and studied us. “I believe I told you they have been with me for fifty years.”
I nodded. “Yeah, and Duncan told us Bonnie tried to get into the Shadows pack, but they didn’t want her.”
Greylock nodded. “That is the unfortunate truth. Duncan, too, has his own ‘bad blood’ among the other packs. He, too, was rejected by another group, and came to me on his second calling.”
“You seem to pick up strays,” Chris mused.
Greylock chuckled. “That is one way to put it, but I prefer to think of them as gemstones cast aside by those with a less discerning eye.” He studied us with a soft gaze. “Speaking of casting, the council meeting does involve a few tests of werewolf abilities such as strength and agility. Might I trouble you into convincing them to participate? And perhaps you yourselves might join in the competitions?
I blinked at him. “Us? But we hardly know what to do.”
Greylock smiled as he rose to his feet. “I’m sure you two will find your strengths. Now if you will excuse me, I believe some rest is in order. The coming week may prove to be quite… trying. If you two would be so kind as to-” He gestured to the plates and uneaten food.
I nodded. “Sure thing, but I don’t want to hear that fridge door open later.”
Greylock chuckled as he inclined his head. “I will be sure to keep my stomach under control.” He limped off upstairs.
I turned to Chris who had furrowed his brow. “You think all the packs are this strange, or are we just lucky?”
“Perhaps a little of both,” he mused as he set his fork on his empty plate and folded his arms over his chest. “Living a long life is bound to have some adverse side effects on a mind, even one that started out healthy.”
I feigned horror. “Then what does that say for our minds?”
He grinned. “It says we fit right in, provided we can survive the ‘guests’ who are coming.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You mean the Claws?”
Chris stood and looked at the fireplace behind Greylock’s chair. The fire had died down and a slight chill filled the air. “I get the feeling nobody likes anybody, so we’d better watch our backs-”
“Or we might find something sticking out of it,” I quipped before I chomped on my last bit of food. “But enough guessing how we’re going to die.” I mused as I rose and gathered some of the plates, “How are we going to divide and conquer these dishes?”
“I’ll take the filled plates,” Chris offered even as he strode over to the short pile of logs beside the hearth. He paused and looked over his shoulder at me when he gestured to the logs. “Unless you care to do these honors.”
I snorted. “Ethan told us to find our strong suits, and I already know fire tending isn’t one of mine.”
Chris picked up a chopped log and tossed it into the fire before turning to me with a twinkle in his eyes. “That sounds like there’s a story behind that.”
I sighed and looked wistfully into the distance with my hands full of plates. “A sad, lonely story about a girl, a couple of sticks, and a little too much Girl Scout ingenuity when it came to her mom’s fashion magazines.”
“You burnt them up?”
“And almost the house, though my mom had to admit I had a talent for rubbing two sticks together. Then she threw out all the chopsticks in the house and for several months she made sure all the tree branches were off of the lawn.”
Chris laughed as he stood. “What a pity.”
I raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
He lifted his eyes to mine, and they were full of gentle kindness. “That we hadn’t met sooner. I would have liked to have watched you grow up.”
I winced and shook my head. “Believe me, that wasn’t pretty. Lots of pimples and a couple of years of legs that were too long for anything except a stork.”
He folded his arms over his chest and chuckled. “I would have liked to have seen that, pimples and all, if only to see the long-legged stork become a beautiful swan.”
I snorted. “There you go with that flattery. Did you minor in it in college?”
Chris grinned. “Majored, actually. Architecture was my minor.”
I couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on my lips as I turned and stacked a bunch of the plates into my arms. “Well, let’s put that architecture degree to use by seeing how many of these plates you can stack on top of each other before they crash to the floor.”
Chris walked over to me and took half of my plates. “Or I’ll take half and you take the other half, and we’ll all get to the kitchen safely.”
I shrugged. “Or that.”