Page 5 of In Her Own Rite

I can see him roll his eyes as I take a swig of water. When I take the bottle from my lips, he’s still watching me, waiting for me to explain.

“Come on. What should I be nervous about?” I ask. “We’ve been doing this for hundreds of years. How bad can it be?”

“You’re kidding. You saw Seb when he came back.”

Reflexively, my jaw tightens. The morning Seb came stumbling back down the cliffs changed everything for me. It’s the reason I came back from Keist. It’s the reason I practically moved in to Em and Seb’sfika—or, that’s what I try to tell myself. It’s why I spend so much of my time trying to keep the rest of us together. Safe.

But Seb isn’t me, I want to say.Seb didn’t train as hard as I have. And if I’d been in his training pack, he would never have ended up like this.But instead, I swallow and say,

“Well. We’ll see what the ancestors have in store for me.”

“Any guesses?”

“Nah, man. You know me. I’m not afraid of anything.” I give him a wry grin.

“Come on, you can tell me. What have you and Heimig been working through?”

“Seriously, not much,” I say. Heimig is the elder assigned to help me with my mental preparation for the rite. “We just sit in his kitchen and he tells me about the glory days. I think all that mental prep is kind of bullshit anyway. Meditation and therapy isn’t gonna help you fight a bear into submission.”

“So you’re preparing for a bear?”

“No. I’m preparing for a fight.”

Gabe sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Come on, break’s over,” I say, setting my water bottle down and stretching my arm for another round. “Get the bag up. Let’s go.”

3

EMERSON

Saga and I finish our postpartum visit close to eleven, and I consider it a win that there’s no spit-up on my shirt.

“I’d like to check in on Anja, too,” Saga says as we walk across Linnea’s front yard towards my bike. “She had a bad fall last week and I want to see if she needs any help around the house.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll come with you.” We reach the stone wall separating the yard from the main road, and I lean forward to unlock my bike.

“No, why don’t you head down to the shop already, and I’ll meet you after? Anja’s farm is just next door, and it’ll be faster for me to get to Moon Lake, anyway.”

I feel my mouth twist, but I nod. In wolf form, it only takes five to ten minutes to get to the apothecary from here. With my bike, it’s closer to twenty.

It’s not that Ican’tshift. It’s that I don’t want to—ever. Saga never pushes me, or makes me feel like I’d be better at my job if I could keep up with her during rounds. But still, I can’t help but think that if I were strong enough to do it, I’d be less of a drain to thefika, and a better support for the islands.

“Sure, makes sense,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Then I’ll head down to the shop already and meet you in a bit. Give Anja my best.”

Saga gives me a nod and rolls her neck to prepare for the shift. I see her pool her concentration, and then her body folds forward, almost as it’s collapsing inwards on itself. In moments, she’s taken the form of a large gray wolf, fur streaked here and there with silver just like her braid. The flowy teal shawl she was wearing earlier is still slung around her body, and her stretchy, loose-fitted brown pants are kept in place by her tail, which emerges through a slit at the base of the tailbone.

Saga shifts often enough to accommodate it with her wardrobe in the old way, with loose-fitting clothes. Most of the younger wolves wear clothing with metallic clasps now. A benefit of me never shifting? I can wear things that actually fit.

She dashes off to Anja’s house, and I get on my bike to make my way to Moon Lake. It’s a misty morning, cool and windy, and the mossy hills are less vibrant than in the spring and summer. The whole islands turn gray in winter, and January is the grayest month of all.

I glance at the sky as I near the forest. Still thick with clouds—no rite tonight, for sure. But still, there’s a feeling forming in my gut, heavy as a rock. Maybe Saga’s right, and it’s the ancestors letting me know it won’t be long. I swallow at the thought.

I pass through the woods, heading in the direction of the hot springs and the lake, and finally into the town center. The storefront for Moon Lake Apothecary is close to the outer edge of town, near the woods and the lake for which it’s named. I make my way over the cobblestone streets towards her shop, and park my bike outside. Through the window, I can see Maren sitting behind the counter on her laptop, one knee curled under her and the other propped up on her chair.

“Hey girl,” she says as I walk through the front door, the bell tinkling behind me. She’s wearing a cream Nike sweatshirt today, with bold patterned silk pants and her curly brown hair piled high on top of her head. Maren grew up on the mainland, and you can tell from her clothes, which are way more interesting than anything most of us wear.

“Hey, morning,” I say. “I thought you were off today.”

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