CHAPTER NINETEEN.

(MELIORA'S POV)


The hours passed in a flurry of stoking fires, stirring pots, kneading dough and plating up the various spreads for lunch. All the while, the promise of our impending shopping trip buzzed with giddy excitement between us girls, fueling our efforts.

At last, when the long tables were laden and the first stream of hungry wolves began trickling into the dining hall, Suzanne took a deep breath and approached Elder Abigail where she was bent, tasting one of the stews.

"Um...Elder Abigail?" She spoke up timidly.

The old woman turned, mouth pursed in her perpetual sour expression as she squinted up at the younger wolf. "Well? What is it, girl? Speak up."

Suzanne swallowed hard. "W-well, you see...the rest of us heard there is to be a mate selection ceremony here in just a few days. And we were hoping, if it's not too much trouble, that we might be allowed to visit the village market after lunch to purchase some new dresses for the occasion?"

Elder Abigail's eyes narrowed further, if that was possible. For a tense heartbeat, I was certain she would bark out a gruff denial.

"Well then you better make sure you come back before dinnertime, else Luna will show you girls her wrath," Elder Abigail retorted, her tone carrying a clear warning.

Suzanne quickly nodded. "We sure will come back before 5 o'clock," she assured the old woman.

With that reassurance, we could barely contain our excited bubbling as we hurried from the kitchen. We dashed back to our cabin to grab our coin pouches and dress ourselves in traveling cloaks over our simple day dresses.

No time was to be wasted - the market village was a fair distance away, and we would need every available minute to explore the shops and make our purchases before needing to rush back.

Once we were ready, we all but sprinted down the main path leading out from the packhome settlement. The winding dirt track would take us through the forest and eventually connect to the mainroad, where we could catch a passing carriage or wagon headed toward the village.

"I can't recall the last time I was able to attend any kind of festivity, let alone one centered around the magic of fresh matings!" Anna exclaimed breathlessly as we hurried along.

Beth laughed, brushing a loose wisp of red hair from her eyes. "Well you're certainly due then! And what better occasion than this - we'll all be gorgeous visions, just you wait and see!"


As we walked, I found my own mind drifting as well to thoughts of the impending ceremony. A small kernel of wistfulness bloomed in my chest as I imagined myself adorned like a blushing bride, surrounded by elegance and celebration.

It had been so long since I'd permitted myself such fanciful indulgences.

Did I dare dream, even for a fleeting moment, of catching someone's eye that night? Of being utterly swept away, reborn into a new season of romance and passion?

Insights into my companions' pasts surfaced amidst their breathless chatter as well.

"Maybe I'll finally catch the eye of Warrior Dave at the celebration," Suzanne said with a dreamy sigh. "You all know I've been crushing on him for ages. Those big, strong arms and that roguish grin? Oh, he's sure to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake!"

The thought of finally experiencing that breathless, all-consuming infatuation with someone stirred up still more nostalgia and bittersweet memories for me.

I recalled a time when I had revealed those very sensations as a starry-eyed young woman myself. So many idle hours spent crafting fanciful visions of the future, sighing wistfully over the gentlest brush of my own personal heartthrob's hand against mine.

My childhood friend Owen's face surfaced in my mind's eye, so vividly I could almost feel the erratic pounding of my pulse as it had back then whenever he was near.

But that well of tenderness and affection had run dry long ago, choked out by anger, hurt and the steady grind of harsh realities. I had known love's tender caresses in my former life, it was true...but also its absence and silent withering.

Even my relationship with Arthur, as compatible as it had been, never quite rekindled that blazing passion and depth of feeling.

Perhaps, I caught myself wondering, this ritual celebrating new matings could hold such lightning in a bottle once more?


My wistful musings were interrupted as Suzanne suddenly skidded to a halt. I nearly ran into her, so lost had I been in my whirling thoughts.

"There, there's the road - quick, we need to flag down a ride!"

Sure enough, we had emerged from the forest at last to a wide, well-traveled thoroughfare. Even as we hurried up alongside it, a sturdy wagon piled high with bundles of furs and pelts came trundling along, drawn by a pair of stout horses.

"Here, you -!" Suzanne called, waving her arm vigorously to signal the driver. "Might you be headed to the village and able to give us a ride?"

The burly, bearded man atop the buckboard pulled back on the reins, slowing his horses to a plodding gait as he peered down at us. He seemed to size us up for a moment before shrugging.

"Where are you ladies heading to?" he asked in a gruff tongue.

Suzanne quickly explained about our need for new dresses in the market. The man grunted, looking moderately appeased.

"Okay, well hop in then. There's room enough alongside this load, I suppose the village ain't but a couple miles on."

We wasted no time clambering up and settling ourselves alongside the pile of pelts and bundles, clutching our coin purses. For the duration of the brief journey, our excited chatter died down to periodic giggles and whispers as we watched the scenery roll by.

At last, the thatched rooftops and bustling streets of the market village came into view. Our driver deposited us on the main thoroughfare with a curt nod and a rumbling, "Mind yourselves girls and be back before sunset."

Then we were off, fanning out eagerly in search of dressmakers, cobblers, haberdashers, tailors - any vendor peddling finery.


Giddy laughter rang out whenever one of us emerged from behind a dressing screen in some outrageous confection, skirts swishing and ruffles askew.

At length, after much breathless deliberation, we all settled on our ensembles for the evening's festivities:

Suzanne in a delicate aquamarine gown with a billowing gauzy skirt and pretty ribbon accents.

Martha looked resplendent in a rich burgundy number with a daring scooped neckline and delicate golden embroidery.

Beth's gown of deep hunter green sported mutely romantic off-the-shoulder sleeves and a teardrop-shaped pearl pendant at her throat.

Anna had chosen a sleek but vibrant persimmon shade with a flirtatiously low back and just a hint of lace at the hem.

And for myself...my own gown of pale sapphire silk fairly shimmered in the light whenever I moved, the single shoulder strap and cinched waist complementing a light, flowing skirt perfectly suited for twirling and dancing.

Indeed this ceremony will hold sweet memories for us girls.