Beyond the Curtain

05 | rule 48

RULE 48: DO NOT PROVOKE THE AUDIENCE.

✷  C  H  A  P  T  E  R     F  I  V  E  ✷

For the first time in my life, I dreaded the insistent rise and grind of my life. Ever since we opened our doors in Moontera, I could feel all eyes on me, not in a good way. Some onlookers had even decided to voice their opinions: the circus was no place for a werewolf.

While I disagreed, I had to bear their judgment with a smile. My skin crawled, and I was always looking over my shoulder. So consumed with keeping a watchful eye, I was unable to fully soak into the experience of being surrounded by fellow werewolves.

Most wolves chose to walk around in their human forms, but many did put their fur coats on full display. Each time a wolf walked passed, I would hold my breath, afraid they'd be able to sense I was not like them.

My suspicions were confirmed when one person snarled, "Rogue," at me. Confused, I was unable to respond before they dashed away.

Rogue. I had never heard the term used in correlation to wolves before, so I assumed it was some sort of slur. Bracing myself, I slowly started counting down the days until the circus was due to set up shop elsewhere, even when I couldn't be certain when that day would be.

On top of it all, Miss Nymphadora had announced the Alpha of Moontera would be in attendance tonight. After over two weeks of performances, the Alpha would finally make his presence known.

If it had not been for the tension between the other werewolves and me, I wouldn't have been so nervous about his impending arrival.

However, over the past couple of weeks, I had picked up on a few rumors about the Alpha. I was certain he would not look upon my performance with an ounce of compassion. Supposedly, he had requested Miss Nymphadora's circus to come to Moontera to show how bad the working conditions were.

Again, supposedly, it was an effort to thwart Iris Teller, a budding Internet personality deadset on showing the harms of Supernatural creatures—specifically werewolves. After the collapse of the Borderlands, tensions with anti-supernatural activists were at an all-time high.

Holding my breath, I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to shake those raging thoughts out of my mind. If only it could be so simple.

At least, if all else failed, I could rely on my almost twenty years of performing for an audience. By now, my routine was down to a science. Two hours before I was called onstage, my preparations would begin. While most of my performance was conducted in my fur coat, my routine's storyline was rooted in my human appearance.

I would appear as a weak, almost sickly young woman. I'd move around the stage, trying to garner sympathy. While doing so, my plight would worsen when Rodney entered the stage. He would chase me around the perimeter with glaring eyes.

Eventually, after my feeble attempts, Rodney would be successful in cornering me. As he closed in and I cowered in response, I'd shed the innocent act and fiercely discard my red cloak as every limb and bone in my body transformed into my wolf.

I'd howl with tenacity and then haul Rodney off the stage. That was when the clapping would start, and I'd be able to feel the pulse of the crowd reverberating behind the stage.

It was a short and sweet routine, but it left people talking. It left them wanting more.

Many of the audience members, at least in the towns we frequented, had never seen a werewolf up close. Gazing at one sparked something in their minds, and Miss Nymphadora said many people came for a second night in a row to set their sights on me for just one more glance.