King's Den

Chapter Five: The Ceremony-Part One

My eyes were shut tight, mouth sealed in a grim line. I breathed in a long breath from my nose. My heart was racing a mile a minute already, but the feeling ebbed away. I felt the soft earth beneath my bare feet. I dug my toes into the mud to get some leverage.

"On your marks." the deep voice shouted.

Cool evening air filled my lungs. A breeze rustled my braided hair and sent shivers across my shoulders.

"Get set." The rumbling bravado of the voice echoed off the rocks.

I tensed my legs. I was ready. Beside me, a warm shoulder bumped mine. It had to be Anna wishing me good luck.

"GO!"

My eyes shot open and my body tore off into the night. I was made for this. I was made to run. I hurdled over rocks and sent the soles of my feet flying over stretches of gravel.

I had to win.

Behind me, the rest of the young adults raced. We were in the beginning stages of the ceremony: the human trials.

This is where I knew I could beat them. The rest was up in the air. But, while the wolves were out with the pack everyday, I stayed around home and ran. Some days I'd run for speed. Some days I'd run for stamina.

I had to win.

Crossing that finish line first was the only way I'd get an ounce of respect from the pack. My mother, the former king, and the new king no longer mattered. What mattered was what was right in front of me.

And, in that moment, it was a fallen tree. I couldn't risk slowing down to climb over its fat trunk. I would lose.

Think agile. What would an agile person do? My mind raced as fast as my legs. Use that rock for a leverage point and jump over the log from it.

I jutted my right leg out into a graceful leap and landed on a rock to the side of the path. The boulder was a bit higher up than the ground that I had previously been on, and it was tilted at just the right angle.

Once my right foot landed on the stone's face, I used it to propel myself across the log. I landed on my left foot. Hard.

I gasp of pain escaped me. My ankle had rolled slightly when I landed. Not far behind me, I could hear the panting of Lucas.

I stumbled through the first few steps. My left foot wasn't pleased with me, but I gritted my teeth and fought through it.

I had to win.

I recovered quickly, not because of some were-wolf healing thing, but because the rustle of leaves on the other side of the log spurred me on. The adrenaline masked my pain.

The end of the race was supposedly at the end of the path, which really was just a mile loop around the inner part of the pack territory.

You see, my pack was in southern Pennsylvania. Our territory hugged the Mason-Dixon line, and stretched over miles upon miles of woods and farmland. We kept ourselves hidden, though, because wolves were not supposed to be in southern Pennsylvania. Maybe people saw a coyote if they were lucky, but wolves were unheard of.

The path I was bolting on, now, was kind of the heart of our safe haven. No one would ever find us here, so it was okay to hold the ceremony.

Sweat trickled down my back and the athletic clothes I had on clung to my damp skin. My breaths were becoming short and jagged.

Breathe, I told myself. I took an almost wheezing breath from my nose and exhaled slowly. My limbs weren't tired, but my lungs were. The end was in sight. I could see the parting in the canopy. I would be back at the pack houses in no time. A thin smile stretched across my lips.