My mother sat on one of the antique couches Cordelia had collected for the main room. Her pale, veiny hands nervously ran through her brown hair every three seconds, shaking as she did so. My father was gazing out of the picture window, hand leaning on the glass, statuesque.
My mother’s eyes locked with mine, and quiet tears leaked from her eyes. My father turned but didn’t have any reaction.
We all walked to the backyard of the packhouse where the funeral was taking place. Rush had appointed extra guards along the border for the funeral, more than the thirty additional guards he added after the incident with the hunters.
The pack gathered in the backyard, circled around the traditional burning platform which was made of rope, vines, and tree branches members of the pack have woven together. Isla’s body sat proudly on top, raised upon an altar of birch trees, surrounded by piles of delicate white and pink flowers. Her throat had been wrapped in a white cloth, matching the flowing white gown she was dressed in.
Rush was required to say something at the funeral of a pack member, and although Isla was not a member of our pack, he decided to perform the ceremony himself. He held my hand tightly as he recited the sacred words, “corpus redit ad terram redit anima caeli,” which means “this body returns to Earth, this soul returns to the air.” It was a sacred script to shifters.
He glanced at me after he said the words, gaging my strength as he took the first branch of hawthorn wood and touched it to the flame one of the pack elders had lit. He handed me another piece that I lit off his, and eventually, my family, his family, and the pack’s officials each held a branch.
As we said our goodbyes to Isla, we touched the flames to her alter, allowing the fire to burn harder and harder until it eventually was consumed. I was the last one to bid her farewell, and as I approached her flaming alter, my frozen exterior faltered for the first time in days.
Rush knew immediately and came to my side, guiding my hand upward to light the wood, extinguishing the flame with his fingers. He held my waist tightly, allowing me to rest my weight on him.
We stood and watched until the flame died down, the sweet smell of birch and hawthorn masking the deprecating smell of Isla’s burning body. The flowers that were pinned to the wood floated into the air along with the ashes and smoke.
“Sloane?” I turned a little to look at my mother. Her eyes were completely devoid of any light, skin too pale, nose red. “Sweetheart, come home.”
“Mom.” I shook my head. “I can’t, you know that.”
“Please,” she said with simple directness.
“Mom, my mate is here. This is my pack now.” I reached for her hand, she pulled it back.
“I need you,” she bellowed. My father grabbed her by her upper arm, not as harshly as I thought he would. “Please, I promise it won’t be like before.”
“No, Mom.”
Her knees collapsed under her, my father still holding onto her arm as she wept on the ground. No one said anything; she had just lost her daughter.
“Ravenna,” my father hissed. “Get up.” She didn’t. His smile was grim as he hauled her to her feet, pulling her away from us. “We’ll be leaving now.”
“Dad,” I called. “You aren’t going to stay?”
“What for? Your mother is my family now, and we’re going home.”
I stepped towards them, the pack now watching as the rest of my family left. Rush put his hand on my shoulder.
“Luna,” a deep voice said. I cocked my head to Beckett, who stood remorsefully behind Rush. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Well, at least you know I wasn’t working with the hunters,” I spat, a new fire sparking in my bloodstream. “Because that would be pretty twisted, right? To kill my own sister to prove my worth to you.”
“Luna, I’m sorry for what I’ve said before.” He bent his head.
“You’re only sorry because she’s dead. Nobody cares what they say to you until someone dies.” My cruel words couldn’t come out fast enough. It was a culmination of things, Isla, my parents, the hunters, and Beckett was the martyr.
“Sloane, I know I haven’t been the kindest to you since you came here,” he winced, his thin eyes cringing. “But I’d like to try to make it up to you.”
“Then bring me the hunter who killed my sister,” I challenged.
“Luna, I don’t know if we can do that, but we’ll try. No one knows who killed her, and I doubt the hunters will give one of their own up.”
“Then there isn’t any other reason for you to talk to me, is there?”
He remained silent and bowed his head.
“Sloane,” Rush said empathetically, a fake smile grazing his eyes. “We should go inside.”
“No,” I shook off. “I think I need to go for a run. Alone.”
Rush sagged his shoulders and watched me quietly run past everyone. I shifted as soon as I was inside the tree line, shredding the dress in the process. I shook out my deep brown fur, allowing my other form to stretch out.
It had been weeks since I had shifted, busy with changing packs and becoming Luna, I had neglected my other form. It felt freeing to run through the woods. I knew Rush had doubled the number of guards for the event, so I was safe in the open woods.
I ran through the woods with no destination in mind, enjoying the sweeping wind on my face, muscles aching with joy as they weaved through the trees. Unless there was a battle, most wolves didn’t shift regularly. There was no way for us to communicate with each other,
