Mating Day.
It dawns as bright and fresh as any perfect early spring day, the remaining February snow on the ground glittering like diamonds in the bright morning sun. The air seems to crackle with my nervous energy as I follow the road to the Village Square, where the mating selection ceremony takes place every year. Every single year I've come to watch, felt the lingering gaze even when I was participating. This day is something I've dreaded for a long time. Everyone in the pack is out and on their way to watch, buzzing with excitement as they chatter amongst themselves. They are excited, and a small part of me that still has hope should be too, but I've got more chance of a thousand flying unicorns filling the sky than this day turning out good for me. The girls from all over the pack steal nervous glances at the males and vice versa, as if we're on our way to a school dance instead of arguably the most important event in our lives. Back in the old days, pack members didn't begin courting until after they had already selected mates, but in the twenty-first century, things are a little less archaic; most people in the pack are either already in relationships or have a pretty good idea of who will pick them.
Except me, of course.
Claire nudges me as we cross into the square, our parents talking in hushed tones to one another a few steps behind us. "You okay?"
"About as 'okay' as you would expect, I guess," I reply quickly. A total lie, of course. I'm shitting bricks, and not just because after yesterday, I'm positive Sebastian has no faith in my capabilities anymore. Not that I blame him, of course. He's alpha and I'm a wreck. One look around at the other shifters my age confirms what I already knew: The odds of my finding a mate today are slim to none. Barely anyone is even bothering to spare me a second glance, and the ones who do run the gambit from condescending pity to outright disgust. Even the quieter ones, the loners who in any other setting would probably be outcasts like me, are reserving their shy glances for one another, steeling themselves before claiming their mates from among the werewolves who can actually shift. I breathe in the damp forest scent around me, hoping it will calm some of my nerves. My mom used to take me into the forest when I was young and told me to ask nature to give me the gift of a wolf.
Nature ignored me. Bitch.
"You don't seem fine," Claire replies, her eyes drifting apprehensively over to Sebastian, who's taking his place on the northern side of the square.
I sigh, running a hand through my black hair. "I feel like a leper," I complain in a low voice. "No one's going to pick me."
"Are you sure?" She frowns, taking a glance around at the others. "There's no one who has their eyes on you?"
"Of course not," I reply, fighting a losing battle with my nerves. "I mean, come on, Claire. Don't you think someone would have given some sign by now if they had any interest in me?"
"Maybe they're just shy," Claire replies, but even she sounds doubtful. It's wishful thinking at best; I've never even been on a date before, let alone with someone in the pack. My only experience with romance, if you can even call it that, is the couple of make out sessions I had with a human guy I met when Claire and I took a trip up to New Hampshire a couple years ago. And he was a lousy kisser, anyway.
I shake my head, jamming my hands into my pockets. "I'm fucked, Claire."
"That's not true," she insists.
That's when Mom steps forward and gives my shoulder a squeeze. "You're going to be okay, Nyx," she murmurs. "Remember, you've got other things to show for yourself besides shifting."
I stifle the urge to tell her that this gooey, self-love nonsense doesn't mean anything in the lycanthropic world, which is as meritocratic as they come, but I don't want to hurt her feelings. Mom always thinks the best of everyone, and it's sweet… but not right at this moment. "Thanks," I reply, "but I'm not so sure about that."
Sebastian clears his throat, and the excited voices of the assembled pack members begin to die down. "You're on, kiddo," Dad says, nodding in the alpha's direction. Before him, the other shifters my age have assembled into two lines: males on one side, girls on the other. With me among them, there will be an equal number of both genders. Maybe the situation isn't totally hopeless, after all. Peter is standing at the front of his line with his hands at his sides, making a concerted effort not to look at me, and the others all seem equally aloof.
There's no stalling any longer. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I hurry to the end of the girls' line, where next to me, Marie shoots me a disparaging look. I keep my gaze on Sebastian, which isn't hard to do, as he's shifting into his wolf form right before my eyes. An enormous red wolf now stands where he was moments before, his fur as red as his human hair and his eyes the same slate gray color. It's amazing to me how those little traces of the human remain, even when fully transformed.
Sebastian begins to speak, and the pack falls silent. "To all the werewolves who run with the Graymoon Pack," he says, his canine jaws moving as he speaks in a voice that sounds distinctly human, "I thank you for joining me for this year's Mating Day. As it was done in the beginning, so it is done today. We respect and honor the traditions."
"We respect and honor the traditions," the rest of us echo, following the script to a T. It hasn't changed in centuries, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to fuck it up now. My eyes are already darting along the line of males, desperately searching for some sign, but their expressions are unreadable, all their attention on the alpha.
"Choosing a mate is a great responsibility," Sebastian continues. "It's a sign of your commitment—not just to the pack, but to one another. Continuing our legacy is vital to the survival of this pack, and all of shifter kind. After today, each of you will be a fully-fledged member of the Graymoon Pack. You should all be very proud." He begins to pace back and forth between the rows of teenagers. "Mating is no small thing," he continues, "and it's not something that should be taken lightly.
Today, you are selecting the person you plan to spend your life with, to shoulder the burdens of your wolf with, to protect the pack with. This ritual is no joke, as much as some of you"—his eyes
drift over to Peter—"may think it is."