Grey's Tribute

We Shake The Air

It's taken five days to prepare the bear meat. They soaked the meat in spices and apple vinegar, wrapping it all in water soaked burlap bags, dug a hole in the ground. They built a fire, letting it cool to embers, then placed the meat over it. They shoveled the hot coals all around it, on top of it. Filling the pit with soil, they will wait a total of twelve hours before they dig it out, letting the steam cook the meat until it's tender and juicy.

I remember my father and the rest of the males killing a bear when I was a small pup. The ceremony that followed was something I will never forget. The pack's pride strumming in the air, my father's always stoic face turned up in a genuine smile that day... I'll never forget that.

The taste of the meat as it falls apart on your tongue has me salivating at the thought.

If the battle would have gone the other way, the bear winning, it would've thrown the pack into an internal war. All the top ranking females dead, leaving their mates going mad with grief. It would be the perfect time to challenge and win a rank.

I think everyone understands the deep significance of this. I've also noticed a respect from the males that was never there before, which is a little unnerving. They're showing me the respect they show the northerner. It's on an equal level.

Sometimes, when I pass by a juvenile, they eye me as they would a living god. I'm uneasy with this new status I've won.

The Northerner has brought me to my favorite spot, on a ridge overlooking the pack lands. We're having a picnic lunch that he's prepared. I sit cross-legged, listening to him talk about his passion... the pack.

He's sitting, legs outstretched, talking about when he was a young pup, about this and that adventure he's been on with those brothers of his. He loves those brothers... fiercely.

He tells me everything, pointing to his favorite spots to run, he lists all the different types of game he likes to hunt and how he can't wait for me to go on a pack hunt with him.

His eyes light up as he talks about them, their future with me in the pack. I'm baptized in the pureness, the goodness of his truth.

His calm, steady voice mesmerizes me, and so does the way his mouth turns up at the corner with the memories of his youth. A simpler time.

He stares at me hard as I study his face, imagining what it would be like to pull him into me for a kiss, what it would be like for him to take me here, in the open space, laying me down so the suns rays hit my face. I clench myself tight at those thoughts.

"I can do that," he says, his voice going deeper.

I blush at him, my neck turning crimson. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

He's better at getting inside my head. He can sense everything. I'm an open book and he's been reading the instructions in depth. His advantage over me has me crippled. Always, he's one step ahead of me.

I can hear the compulsions in him, too. Our closeness makes it impossible not to notice them winding up his arms, whispering to him to take me. He's getting better every day at fighting them.

I do not possess the same fortitude. I'm sure he's watching the same compulsions devouring my resolve, swallowing it piece by piece until I'm stripped bare, leaving only one compelling thought... to mate with this male.

His fingers brush against my face, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I want to ask you something," he says in a serious tone. I perk my ears up at this "I... we... I mean, my wolf needs to mark you. He's dying inside, here. I can't hold him back much longer."