The delivery the next day was better than expected. We even got a small generator with a fridge and the water was turned back on.
Most days we fought in the hall. But when the weather was good, we moved to the clearing out front to spar under the sun.
Some days we fought with Jack shifted, some days not. But all days were tough from dawn until dusk.
Annoyingly. I only beat him half the time while he was shifted, which, whilst it was an improvement, wasn't my goal.
Sparring could go either way and generally ended with us both too tired to move, rather than a clear winner.
Cuts and bruises were attended to in the more 'human' way of bandages and I was beginning to look like a mummy by the end of the second week.
Somehow, we had managed to pull back to our cheeky friendship, for which I was grateful. In fact, this time together had made us a lot closer.
It was our last night at 'camp'. Jack was poking our small fire with a stick, a soft smile on his face as he watched the flames dance.
I had prepared some rabbit stew in a large pot, the smell of it simmering had taunted us for hours and my belly did a loud growl.
"Woah, I thought for a second you just got your wolf!" Jack laughed, his handsome face cast in half shadows from the firelight.
I stuck my tongue out at him and stretched, deciding it was time to dish up the soup.
We ate in comfortable silence, with only the rustle of leaves and the crackle of the fire to be heard.
Jack hummed appreciatively as he ate, making me smile. He was very easy to please with food and seemed to enjoy almost anything. I felt like he could be presented with a rotten squirrel and he would say it was delicious.
Regarding me over the top of his bowl, he cocked his head curiously. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?"
I honestly had no idea.
The Qual's seemed to have come around so quickly that I hadn't had time to worry about them too much. Although, on closer inspection of the idea, I felt a little sick.
"I'm nervous. Obviously..." I paused to slurp some soup. "I just don't know if I'm ready."
Jack drained the last of the broth from his bowl and set it on the grass beside him. He leant forward with his forearms on his knees; eyes filled with earnest. "You will be amazing. You should be proud." He hesitated and then added, "I'm proud of you."
A small, embarrassed smile bloomed on my lips and I looked away from his navy gaze.
Clearing his throat, he lay back in the grass and looked up at the moon.
It was almost full. A few more days and it would call to my brethren. Pulling them into the forests.
Moon Hunts were a monthly social gathering. The one time every month that the pack got together in wolf form. They would chase, play fight, and hunt as well as often finding a partner for the evening to have sex.
In wolf mythology, wolves mated for life in an instant, unmistakable lightning strike of a moment. They were bound to one another, unable to entertain the idea of any other mate.
In reality, it was a lot more complicated.
Wolves recognised their mate for sure. But not with an absolute blindness to all else. A mutual affection is easier to find in a mate, but it is not guaranteed or infallible.
Wolves can cheat just as humans can. They can ignore the bond if they so choose. A wolf does not have theatrical rejections and suicide inspiring heartbreak as legend would have you believe.
Moon hunts were obviously out of the question for me.
Those nights were my living horror.
Shaking the sad thoughts away, I bid goodnight to Jack and went inside. A long night's sleep was exactly what I needed for tomorrow.
As the light stung me awake the next morning, I became aware of the delicious scent of breakfast, pulling me outside.
From the state of him, it seemed Jack had slept under the stars last night. His hair was even messier than usual, and he had a streak of dried mud on his cheek.
I giggled and reached to pluck a twig out of his hair, flicking it at him and squatting down beside him to warm my hand over the fire.
He smirked at me. "Ready for your big day little miss?" he asked as he slid a few sausages into a bowl and handed it to me.
"Wow. You must be really sure I'll fail if you're trying to cheer me up before I've even fucked up." I grinned and accepted the bowl, my mouth watering.
Jack chuckled. "Well, I set you up to win. I may as well even the field and set you up to lose too."
He plopped some sausages on his own plate and began to eat, a small smile on his face.
"It's strange. All these years we have been doing this. All that work, for one day." He mused as he chewed.
I nearly choked on my sausage. "Great. Thanks Jack. Perfect nerves remedy."
He laughed as I glowered at him and finished my breakfast.
Jack finished up his food and stood, stretching.
As had been our custom, I cleaned the pots while Jack put out the fire.
I hesitated in the clearing for a moment longer than necessary. The unspoken reality of the end of our time together, on my mind.
Jack hoisted the duffle onto his shoulder and gestured to the path. "Twelve years in the making. Time to make me proud." His cheeky grin earned him an eye roll, but I set off ahead. Resisting the urge to turn and run.
We separated to shower and drop off our things. Arranging to meet in front of the Pack House in an hour.
The urge to run was getting stronger and stronger. I had hoped to see Holly, but she wasn't home.
I showered and dressed quickly. Nerves clawing at my belly.
The traditional paper tournament clothing seemed ridiculous with my inability to shift. But I knew I had to wear it to keep the pretence.
I pulled my dark hair into a bun, relishing feeling fully clean for the first time in weeks.
As I left the cabin, I felt bare. I had only the clothes on my back. No handbag, no phone, no protection from anything to come.
The paths and undergrowth were tellingly empty. Everyone had already gathered at the Qual Grounds.
Jack was unusually sombre on our way to join the Pack. His brow furrowed in thought.
It did nothing to help my nerves.
Soon I found myself in the wait cabin with my fellow trainees. Jack gave my hand a small squeeze before melting away to join the Ranked Pack members on the judging podium.
I was numbly looking around at the pale faces when I was accosted by a squealing poof of fiery hair.
I laughed as she clung to me, a small sob escaping. "I was beginning to think he had murdered you and done away with the evidence!" she hiccupped, wiping a tear.
I laughed. Instantly at ease from seeing my friend. "He should be so lucky!"
Holly pulled back, eyes searching my face. Seeming satisfied, she immediately began to rant about how terrified she was.
A small chuckle to our left brought my attention to Kyle. His usually pasty skin impossibly paler. He picked at his fingers nervously as he glanced around the room. "I think that's all of us now. They will be starting soon."
Looking around the room at the people I knew most, I realised that I would be going after all of them. There would be others after me, but none I knew very well.
We would be called in alphabetical order, according to our surnames.
On queue to my thoughts, the first name was called.
"Callum Anderson." The booming voice of the Alpha had no trouble being heard even over the low murmur in the cabin.
Looking at us sickly, Callum made his way to the door. Pausing to gulp air before he left.
No one moved or spoke in the thirty minutes before the next name was called. The whoops and hisses of the crowd was the only indication of how he was doing.
It seemed to be going ok.
On it went in this way, each new name diminishing our numbers and heightening the fear.
"Matt Braydon!" A muscular blonde guy fist bumped Kyle, before heading out.
"Holly Garrow!" Holly clung to me for a moment before Kyle peeled her off and we led her to the door.
"You got this." I mumbled through the lump in my throat.
I barely heard the crowd anymore, because of the rushing in my ears. I had never felt so afraid.
A few more names were called that I didn't know too well, until it was my final accomplices' turn.
"Kyle Laws!"
A short nod was all we managed to each other before he too was gone.
Every new name after that was torture. There were less than eight of us left when, finally, it came...
"Charlotte Maxwell!"