113 | DANCING IN THE RAIN
The next day brings thick clouds that blot out the sun, dusting the world in a sort of gloom that seems to wrap around me and twist into the feel of time with Mom slipping though my fingers. Mom’s ecstatic, of course, with the prospect of crossing off another item on her list. It’s almost too perfect timing, the warming of the season and fresh wave of clouds. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the world was in cahoots with Mom to get the remaining three boxes ticked off on her list.
The impending heaviness of moister in the air doesn’t stop the Reinier Reunion from continuing. Today is ‘trivia’ day, strictly about non-Pack-related things, but also so far from human topics that I can’t even think about participating in. I make the excuse of spending more time with Mom when Ryker and Paris try to get me on their team. It’s not a lie since I do really want to spend time with Mom, but I also have no clue about what herbs other supernaturals should avoid and what things boost their powers. I do know some things, but I’m in no mood to mentally dig up the spares reading I’d done in the last few months.
As with all the activities the Reunion has had, trivia-day happens outside, right in the center of the community. Paris has a white sheet pinned up on one side of a cabin, using it like a screen to project pre-made question slides. Mom and I have taken up residence on the porch of our cabin, again with hot beverages to keep us warm, even if it’s ebbing more towards fifty degrees. I’m sitting on the step below Mom’s, her thin fingers have started working through the thick mass of my hair and she’s gone into full-on Mom-mode - twisting and weaving pieces of my curls.
I let her work, knowing she likes to have something to keep her hands busy. This also has long-forgotten memories surfacing in my mind, memories so old I can’t really tell if they’re made-up or real, but I don’t care. They’re happy and bright, warming me more than any drink ever could. Paris announces the next topic, dragging my attention from the past and to the present…just as something wet hits my right temple.
I jerk my head away on reflex as the cool substance slides down my face. I reach up and dab at the spot, looking at the clear wetness there, then up at the dark clouds. Another droplet splats on my skin, this time on my chin. I stick out my hands, palms up, a little puzzled as my brain puts two-and-two together. Mom’s hands drop from my hair to my shoulders and she leans close so our cheeks press together.
“What is it, Wisty?” Mom asks softly, but before I can answer, thick sheets of rain drop out of the sky. Squeals of surprise and protest erupt from the gathered Wolven as some run for cover, while others laugh and turn their faces up to the sky in welcome. Mom and I stand, almost in unison as water pours. I feel that pit of sorrow well up in me as a gentle rumble of thunder rolls out to fill the air.
“Shall we?” I turn to Mom, holding a hand out to her and trying to pretend like the rain now streaming down my face is all from the sky and not my eyes. Mom’s expression is like that of a child on Christmas morning as she nods and takes my hand. I help Mom down the steps, making sure my grip on her hand is gentle but firm as our bare feet hit the now muddy ground.
Some of the younger Wolven have shifted and are splashing around in the mud, running away from their scowling parents who just can’t seem to keep the annoyance in place for more than a millisecond before the rain makes their frowns bloom into wild grins. Almost everyone who’s left in the downpour are Reiniers, their expression almost identical to that of my mom’s. It’s clear the love of rain runs in the family.
Mom pulls on my other hand and draws my attention back to her as she lets out a joyous laugh, tipping her head back as if to soak in the water. She begins to lead me into wild dance, swinging us around while our feet remain anchored in the mud, the gravity of our motion like a twister. A few of the older Reiniers, my aunts and uncles, are doing similar things, and soon we’re joined by at least ten others. Mom takes Craven’s hand, Paris suddenly appearing on my other side to take mine.
They’ve got the same brightness in their expressions as our impromptu chain becomes a giant circle. Some one start singing, a cheery and gorgeous tune I vaguely recognize. Within seconds, everyone’s humming along and the circle sways with the fast pace, first right three steps, then left. Its some sort of dance they all seem to know, so I just follow their lead, giggling when I accidentally misstep. Paris laughs with me, and Mom has to help her steady me more than once - lest our whole group fall over.
The tension and aching in me drain, as if washes away by the rain. Delight blossoms in place as I see the exuberance on everyone’s faces and carefree way they seem to dance. Delight blossoms in place as I see the exuberance on everyone’s faces and carefree way they seem to dance. It’s almost like the aching sadness has been feeding some well that’s now overflowing with something else…not joy exactly, but something equally bright and dark. Acceptance.
The group splits into smaller fractions, then down more until we’re all back in partnered-formations. Mom and I are back to holding hands and she’s leading me through a complex jig while she continues to hum and laugh with the others. Mud gets kicked up under foot and I know my borrowed clothes are pretty much ruined at this point, but I can’t muster up the ability to care.
There’s a groaning ruble of thunder that makes a chorus of howls rise into their air - like the Wolven are trying to sing along with nature. Mom lets out the human-version of the sound and I follow along. Something in me vibrates, the wolf in me, floating to the surface to bask in the unity of this feeling washing through me. When the thunder stops, everyone goes back to singing and laughing.
Mom and I rejoin the group and they do the complicated steps we had before. We keep dancing until the rain slows and we’re all breathing too hard to say anything coherent. Some of the older Wolven plop down on the ground, chests heaving and wild grins brightening their faces.
“Well, I’d say trivia-day is over,” Paris calls breathlessly after a few minutes. Some of the Wolven hum in agreement, and more than a few laugh. “Everyone, go get cleaned up and we’ll meet in an hour for dinner.” She claps her hands, raising her voice so even those who’d gone into their cabins earlier can hear. Ryker and Craven flank her sides as they make their way to the main cabin with a few other Reiniers.
Mom’s got some color to her pale face as I lead her towards our cabin. We make the futile attempt to stop the mud from our feet before going into the cabin. The small home has one shower, so I let her go first while I make us some tea, a thick towel wrapped around me. My heart’s still heavy, but the glow of happiness makes the darkness just a little more bearable as I clean the muddy mess from the floor and prepare two large mugs of cinnamon tea.
