Page 51 of Mate Night Snack
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows and sending leaves skittering across the porch. But inside the cabin, wrapped in each other's arms and the glow of firelight, Emmett felt safer than he had in years. Not because the danger had passed—if anything, it was just beginning—but because for the first time since his exile, he wasn't facing it alone.
He had found his mate, chosen his partner, claimed his future.
And he'd be damned if he'd let anyone take that away from him.
21
KATNISS
The Council Glade looked like something out of a fever dream painted in moonlight and shadow.
Ancient trees formed a perfect circle around the clearing, their massive trunks twisted with age and carved with symbols that seemed to shift and writhe when Katniss wasn't looking directly at them. Spanish moss hung from the branches like tattered curtains, stirring in a breeze that carried whispers in languages she didn't recognize. The moon hung directly overhead, full and silver-bright, casting everything in sharp relief. But this wasn't ordinary moonlight. This was something older, wilder, charged with magic that made the air itself feel alive.
"Stay close," Emmett murmured beside her, his hand finding the small of her back as they approached the sacred space. "Council gatherings can get intense."
"Define intense," she whispered back.
"Politics with claws," he said simply.
They weren't the first to arrive. Maeve Cross stood near the eastern stone, her short black hair gleaming like polished obsidian in the moonlight. She'd traded her usual casual clothesfor a fitted black blazer and dark jeans, looking every inch the dangerous predator she was. Her golden-brown eyes tracked their approach with keen interest, and she offered Katniss a nod that felt like approval.
Miriam emerged from between two trees, moving with the quiet grace of someone comfortable in sacred spaces. Her silver hair was pinned back with what looked like bone combs.
"Evening, sweetheart," Miriam said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Katniss's hand. Her fingers were cool but comforting.
Katniss smoothed her clothes, nerves making her fidgety. "I wasn't exactly prepared for formal supernatural politics."
"None of us ever are, the first time." Miriam's eyes twinkled with gentle humor. "But you'll do fine. Just remember, they're more afraid of you than you are of them."
"That's what people say about bears," Katniss pointed out. "Right before they get mauled."
More figures began to emerge from the forest paths, moving with the quiet confidence of people who belonged in places like this. Katniss recognized some faces from around town, but seeing them here, in this charged atmosphere, made them seem different. More. Like they'd shed their everyday masks to reveal something wilder underneath.
Twyla appeared beside one of the northern stones as if she'd grown from the earth itself. Her wheat-colored hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, woven with tiny silver bells that chimed softly as she moved.
Katniss watched as Twyla took her place beside what was clearly a designated spot. "Are there assigned positions?"
"Council members and town elders get the stones," he explained quietly. "Everyone else fills in around the circle according to... let's call it social hierarchy mixed with magical ability."
"Where do we go?"
"Wherever Varric tells us."
As if summoned by his name, the wolf elder stepped into the clearing from the southern path. Varric Thornwell commanded attention without effort, his presence filling the space like the scent of ozone before a storm. His long silver braids hung over his shoulders like cords of moonlight, adorned with small bones and polished stones that caught the ethereal glow. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, swept the gathering with ancient authority.
Behind him walked a man Katniss hadn't met, though she recognized the type. Elder Bram looked like every conservative politician she'd ever seen, if conservative politicians came with supernatural abilities and attitudes carved from granite. His gray beard was perfectly trimmed, his dark robes immaculate, and his pale eyes held the kind of cold judgment that made her instinctively want to check if she was properly covering everything.
"That's not a friendly face," she whispered to Emmett.
"Bram's old school," he replied, voice carefully neutral. "Believes in keeping the supernatural world separate from the human one. Doesn't much like outsiders, especially ones with unpredictable gifts."
"Well, this should be fun."
Varric raised his hand, and the clearing fell silent with the kind of immediate hush that spoke of deeply ingrained respect. Or fear. Possibly both.
"We gather under the full moon to witness the formal recognition of Katniss Greaves," his voice carried easily across the space, rich and resonant as thunder rolling through mountain valleys. "A human-born seer who has found sanctuary within our borders and seeks official protection under our ancient laws."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, not unfriendly but definitely curious. Katniss felt dozens of eyes on her, studying, evaluating, weighing her worth against whatever criteria these people used to judge outsiders.
