The blue moon

The Festival of the Blue Moon is fast approaching, and suddenly everyone is a merchant, selling trinkets, beverages, treats, and practically anything that has a price tag.

Mom and Dad set up a stall every year. However, they are usually too busy to manage it, being the Beta pair and all. Talia and I take turns manning it, or we do it together when the crowd is too much for one person to handle.

The air is fragrant with baked goods, roasted nuts, savory treats, and sweet beverages.

Trinkets are being arranged — charms, glowing pendants, hand-carved figurines. I gawk at the sight of it all despite the fact that I’ve been seeing this setup every single evening for the last four days.

But today feels a little different. There is just one more day before the festival, and almost every structure has been completed, every stall opened and filled to the max.

The decorations — peculiar, whimsical, and probably magical — are all set up now.

Glimmering threads in the lanterns. Slight flickers of light that aren’t candles.

Some werewolves are walking around in partial shifts — ears twitching, tails flicking, claws brushing against surfaces, teeth glinting in the light, fur showing in patches.

It is all so beautiful.

I find Bailey waiting at the old oak by the edge of the field, where we agreed to meet yesterday. The evening air is cool, leaves rustling around us. She waves and smiles as I approach.

I wave back.

We’ve been allies since the day Damon humiliated me in the cafeteria when we were twelve. Bailey always knew when to stand her ground — and when to duck for cover with me.

She helped me clean the mess off my body that day, and an alliance was formed and sealed between us. Humans had to stick together around here unless you'd become a victim of one of these wewolves' bad tempers. I could count the number of humans that went to our school on my fingers and trust me, there weren't enough to diffuse the attention from us.

Bailey isn't treated as badly as I am, though. For some reason, the fact that Damon — future Alpha and the Alpha’s beloved son — has taken a personal interest in tormenting me, makes everyone think giving me a hard time is a sure way to Damon’s heart or a way to win cool privileges.

“Hope I didn't make you wait too long,” I say to Bailey.

“Nah, I just got here myself, but we should probably be on our way immediately. I’m sure everyone has opened their stalls by now.”

Bailey and I begin our trek to the park square.

We separate when we get to the heart of the festivities to head for our individual stalls.

The Tule Dance rehearsals don’t start until later, so I’m taking the first shift, Talia the second.

I’ve been dancing in the Tule Dance since I was twelve. It’s a ritual for weres — a sensual, spiritual performance where young females, wrapped in tule, dance under the moonlight for everyone to see during the first day of the festival, each in various levels of partial shift.

Though I’m human and can’t shift, I’ve been blending in with false ears and claws ever since I started.

Even though it gave Damon another avenue to taunt and target me, I persisted.

For reasons I’ve never understood, my dancing irritates him more than anything else.

It has never been easy being human in a pack populated with weres. The girls didn’t want me to join them. They changed rehearsal times and locations without my knowledge so I wouldn’t attend. They pranked me during practice, sabotaged the steps to the extent that I made a fool of myself during my first Tule performance.

I didn’t let that stop me, either. Now I like to think the girls have warmed up to me — despite themselves.

*****

I find Bailey leaning against the edge of her beverage stall, adjusting a stack of glasses and wiping condensation from a pitcher of her signature sparkling elderflower drink.

“How’s sales going?” I ask, nodding at her neat setup.

Bailey grins. “Great. There are so many people here today, and the fact that the festival is only a day away has a lot of people famished from all the work.”

I glance around. The festival square is buzzing. Stalls are built, lanterns are strung and lit. The night is in full swing.

“You’re going for dance rehearsals again?” Bailey asks.

I smirk. “Of course. Can’t let the werewolves think they’ve got the edge.”

“Very committed to tradition, I see,” she jokes.

I shrug. “Wouldn’t miss a chance to embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

Bailey laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

She is mid-sentence, talking about her mum's latest ridiculous dessert recipe disaster when my attention drifts.

Across the square, near the lantern arch, a small pocket of space has formed in the crowd. I don't see his minions around but I know they can't be too far off.

Damon stands at the center, half-shifted, speaking to one of the patrol captains. He isn’t doing anything remarkable.

And yet no one stands too close.

I'd have snorted if the sight of Damon didn't remind me of trees, moonlight, being underneath him and—

My fingers tighten slightly around the edge of Bailey’s stall.

“—and then Mum nearly dropped the entire tray—” Bailey stops. “What?”

I blink. “What?”

“You just went statue.” She follows my line of sight. Her eyes narrow. “Oh.”

I roll mine immediately. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to narrate this like it’s some tragic love saga.”

Bailey's a romantic.

Bailey snorts. “Relax. I was going to say he looks like he swallowed a lemon.”

“He always looks like that,” I reply smoothly. “It’s the Carylon family inheritance. Arrogance with a jawline.”

Bailey laughs under her breath. “You two are exhausting.”

“Correction,” I say lightly, reaching for one of her glasses and inspecting it like it’s fascinating. “He is exhausting. I merely provide commentary.”

Bailey studies me for a second longer than I like.

“You okay?”

I smile — easy, dismissive. “Bailey, if brooding in public were a sport, I'd probably take last place. Damon would probably snag the crown. I’m fine.”

Across the square, Damon’s head turns slightly.

I look away first.

“Anyway,” I continue, tone bright, “if he’s trying to intimidate the festival into starting early, it’s not working.”

Bailey shakes her head, amused. “One day, you’re going to poke the wolf too hard.”

I grin. “He’s already convinced he’s terrifying. I’m just trying to manage his delusions since no one else is willing to.”