Page 13 of Whisper Woods

After yet another round of hellos, including Dad who’s too busy at the barbecue to actually chat, I settle in at the long outdoor table to watch the game still going on the lawn. It’s getting brutal out there. Blood is flying everywhere, along with Dad’s grass.

“You alright, Seff? Looking a bit tired there.” Zeke, a pack member around my age, nudges my arm suggestively. God's tits, I must look like shit the way everyone is harping on about me not getting any sleep.

I slide down in my chair, stretching out my legs to cross my feet at the ankles. Picture perfect casual.

Turning to Zeke I bounce my eyebrows a couple of times, and suck at my teeth. “I’m doing good, you know how it is.”

The guy is nice enough, but dense as two bricks. But he chuckles right on cue, saluting me with his drink.

The conversation carries on around me, and I try to stay checked in and be involved, but Zeke's right, I am tired as shit. And I swear we’ve had these exact conversations every single barbecue since the dawn of time.

The same complaints from the parents. The same comments from the crew about the same jobs. One or two digs at my sleeping around, and “stepping up to help Dad,” and “taking my place.” Another subtle wink with a suggestive nod to sneak off somewhere private. Dad making the same big speech about Reinstating the Pride of the Pack while downing beers and waving the tongsaround for emphasis. This late in the summer it’s the complaints about the heat, and in a few months it’ll be the same complaints only it’s too cold.

Do they never get tired of it? How can they nothearit? It’s so fucking loud. Sometimes I think I should have followed my sister’s footsteps and gone to study civil engineering in Loqueaur City—I mean, she’s younger than me and I’ve never had the smarts to go on to university. But that’s besides the point really.

“For the Gods sake, Seff, be careful!” The shout and gasps draw me out of my daydream about escaping this place, running away. Maybe with a black haired, olive-skinned hottie that lurks in the Woods whenever I’m lucky.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” The cold drinks I’ve knocked over with my bouncing leg spill over the edge of the table as everyone races to mop them up, the scrappy remains of my bottle label sailing along in a sea of sticky soda and alcohol.

The mess is quickly cleaned up, and the drinks refilled, but there are still the usual comments about me being a klutz. Even though I haven’t been clumsy since my body caught up with the size of my feet when I was ten. Nobody around here ever notices when you change.

“Need a hand getting that cleaned up?” Tai’s voice is deep and rumbly as he leans in close over my shoulder, nodding to the wet patch on my thigh. Built like a brick house, he smells like sweat and grass and man.

I try to keep it subtle and nod just once, casting a quick eye over to Dad to make sure he isn’t looking. Not that he cares, it’s just weird when your dad knows you’re hooking up in his house. Maybe a quick and dirty orgasm will get rid of this funk. Tai gives my shoulder a quick squeeze and then he backs off, chuckling smugly as he does.

I give him a minute, to keep up the pretence that the twentyish beings around the table have no idea what’s going on. Then I clear my throat, wincing when the chair squeaks on the pavers. Heading inside, it’s not hard to figure out which room he’s snuck into. I was there only a few weeks ago with Sien.

Pack gatherings, I sigh to myself, a bolt of lust curling up my spine when I see Tai there waiting, hard dick already in hand when I push open the door of the second spare bedroom, even when they’re different they are exactly the same.

Rafe

“Gods… I found it!”Brydon gasps from the couch. He’d just thrown himself there rather dramatically in frustration. The afternoon light is shining through the brightly coloured dragon glass in the windows, casting a rainbow through the room.

Feet propped up on the large desk that takes up far too much room of my office, I catch the ball I’ve been throwing in the air and turn to face him. Clutched in his hand is an old, rumpled newspaper I brought back from the Mundane for his collection. Between all the rest of the things I’ve managed to bring home over the years, Brydon's Mundane reading collection clutters the clutter.

He continues to wave the paper at me like it means something to me. We have been attempting to decipher the meaning behind the Seer Lughis’s words—the answers you seek begin at slash—since we returned to my home earlier today. But so far we have not managed to uncover anything.

Rolling his eyes with a put-upon sigh, he stands, tossing the paper on my desk, sending the organised chaos of papers on the desk into disarray.

“Look!”

I pick up the newspaper to inspect the black and white ad. It is a grainy photograph of several shirtless men, taken from almost above as they appear to be dancing while smiling at the camera.

In large, bold letters above the men are the wordsCelebrate the Summer at Slash.

Well, vylushkiva.

He found it.

The advertisement is over a year old—from my last trip to Carconnois—inviting gay men to their nightclub. My eyes dart over the page, taking in the details, my instincts latching onto the triumph that we’ve discovered the meaning of the obscure prophecy.

“I cannotbelieveyou get ordered to go to a gay bar. I want to go to a Mundane gay bar.” Brydon pouts running his hand through his vivid blue hair so it sticks up at odd angles.

“It’swork, Brydon. I’m not there to sleep with whomever I find.” Not to say that I won’t.

Obviously Brydon doesn’t quite believe me either, giving me a withering look that looks odd with his round, black eyes. I try to smother the smug smile from tugging at my lips but fail abysmally. When he responds with a rude hand gesture that tells me to go mate with myself, I almost choke on my laugh. “Come on now, Brydon. Don’t be like that. I will even bring you back a present.”

“Gods, why do I work with you again?” His tail thumps the floor in frustration. It’s mostly playful, but I am all too aware that he finds his life here in Tathys restricting. Out of all Tathys, he is one of the few who would benefit most from the freedom of reunification.

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