Nova and I were working on rebuilding both of our respective packs, which ended up being a lot of paperwork. So much paperwork. She was fine keeping this packhouse standing and allowing us to use it temporarily, as she had no personal interest in it.
But as the days went on, I could sense her anxiety.
“It is time,” she stated, standing in the Alpha’s office across from me; her disdain and agitation from being here was palpable. “I cannot wait any longer.”
I nodded. She glanced at Ezra, sitting next to me, who only replied, “I will be here if you need me.” He dipped his head.
I followed Nova out of the packhouse through the back lawn. Barely into the treeline stood a semi-circle of werecats.
They eyed me, most with wariness, some with curiosity, and a few with possible gratefulness. Nova told me to expect as much, they did not know me or understand why I was standing at her side, the first wolf, well, the first wolf they knew of entering their sacred land before them.
I knew they appreciated me restoring their land, but I knew they thought I thought myself a savior for them, which I did not. I was trying to right a wrong, to restore lands to the people they were meant for.
We both had a common enemy, and I did not think myself above them. They helped me as much as I helped them.
Nova came to stand in front of them and eyed me when I tried to blend into the crowd. She motioned for me to stand next to her. Once she was satisfied, she started her speech.
“I am not inviting Simone here out of duty,” Nova said. All of their eyes met hers. “Although I am grateful to her, I did not invite her here because I thought I owed her a debt. She has not asked for anything that I am not willing to give, and that is the same I will ask of her.”
“Out packs, the wolves and cats were intertwined, our goddesses friends on the other side.”
Her werecats stayed still, but their eyes darted around.
“We have discovered our packs to be connected, as you may have heard from the stories.” Nova looked at me and reached for my hand. “I did not truly believe it until I saw for myself.”
“We would not be here if it were not for her, and I am not speaking of these lands. The power of her lands, whether by her, her pack, or the goddess, has been given to me to re-ignite the spark to call our goddess home.” Nove raised our hands and I followed the movement, half expecting something to happen, half expecting nothing.
That swirl twisted around her hand, the bracelet of power she wore, and concealed until she was ready until they were ready to restore their lands.
Nova looked at me in a way that offered an opening, but I had nothing prepared, so I spoke what was on my mind—I spoke the truth. “We have been seen as enemies for too long,” I said. “I do not want to take anything from your people, but I would like the opportunity for us to connect, to grow together. I want us to honor our ancestors and our past.” I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘goddesses’ I still had wariness and distrust for mine. “A past where we were united. I understand you have apprehensions, ones I could never truly fathom myself from your perspective,” I tried to rationalize as much as I could. “I am honored Nova has let me join you for this sacred act as she has joined me in mine.”
Everyone was eerily silent, rigid even.
Nova nodded at me and her pack. I could feel her nervous, excited energy, but her voice was calm and powerful as she said, “Shall we?” And dipped her head toward the entrance that formed only when she neared.
Theirs was different, a winding descent on smooth earth, it twisted like a staircase. The air felt calm, old, settled. When we walked down it seemed curious, I felt the place was watching us, awakening from a slumber much like I had felt before when Nova and I had found the secret of my pack.
When the incline flattened, no lights flickered on as they had in mine. I looked at Nova, her eyes were slitted, but she nor I showed our fear.
She sauntered to the middle where a pool stood, wider and more shallow than my own. The water in it was unmoving, black as night, and silent as a grave.
Nova sank to her knees. She paused for a moment and looked over her shoulder—looked at me. I nodded to her and walked up, sitting behind her to give her as much comfort as I could offer or try to. I still found it strange that my presence might offer others comfort, and I had to work to remember that.
Nova dipped her fingers in the pool, so waves, no ripples, came from her hand as if any motion was sucked away.
I wondered what the others could see here, if anything if their vision was truly better than ours. I knew mine would still probably be superior because of whatever gift I had, but maybe Nova had that, too.
The drop of power she carried from my cavern woke with a bright burst. It blazed around her wrist, twisting and untangling itself from her until it rose above the black water in an ever-moving sphere.
It pulsated, out and in, and I held my breath. Everyone did.
The orb got increasingly smaller and smaller. Folding in on itself until it was but a speck.
That speck fell from the air and dropped into the pool.
The sound echoed around the cavern and up through the tunnels from which we had come. The ripples in the water were thin and many. They vibrated out, and the inky void seemed to take on a shimmer as if a film of starlight had been glazed over it.
The water ebbed and flowed and moved and changed, and then it stilled.
Nova sat back after a long few moments.
Before she could look back at me the water seemed to fold in on itself, it took the silver gift Nova offered and swirled into a pool. The silver edged away and replaced with gold as vibrant as a crown in the sun, as vibrant as Nova’s now wide eyes.
When the water stilled, flickering warm, green-tinged golden lights illuminated the walls. Nova sank back the same way I had done, and as she was there to ground me, I was here for her now.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as her breath evened. Her gold eyes turned to me, brimming with tears.
The warmth in this place seemed to pulsate, it seeped out and it crawled, it climbed higher and higher and I knew it was becoming one with the very land itself.
“We did it,” Nova whispered, her voice hoarse.
“We did,” I told her. “Next, we open the tunnels between our packs,” I whispered, laying my head on her shoulder; she settled hers on top of me, and the vibrations through her were addicting. I was glad I lived, glad I was on this earth to witness this moment, to help them be part of it.
Slowly, the werecats surrounding us fell to their knees. I watched the flicker of disbelief and raw emotions on their faces. What they felt here was only in fantasies, in bedtime stories, and it was so much more binding and connecting than I could have dreamed.
It was the essence of ourselves, of our kind.
____
We walked out slower than we came—lighter, though, more energized.
I could feel the werecats' renewed purpose behind me, and I was made even lighter by their elation.
I wondered if it would have happened if they would have returned to their lands if I had not lost my pack.
Giving up my pack for theirs to be restored still seemed a heavy price, and I did not know if that were true or not, I could not begin to calculate the way of the gods and goddessess, but it did ease a burden.
We stood outside again as we had an hour or so before, but everything had changed—yet again.
Nova dipped her head. “Thank you, Simone. We are indebted to you.”
I shook my head. “No, you have helped me, guided me. I am indebted to you and your pack.”
“As we are you,” Nova said.
“Should we call it even then?” I asked.
A brilliant smile graced her brown skin as she said, “No debts, just friendship, just a bond a pact made from respect, that you honor us and we honor you.”
My smile was bright, and I nodded. She reached out a hand, and I sighed and looked at it warily. “Please, no earth-shattering magic,” I muttered under my breath.
Nova tilted her head back and laughed loudly, grasping my hand.
I stilled, but nothing happened.
Just the warmth of her skin surrounding mine, a promise made by us, intended to be kept by us, not bound by the gods or anything else.
Something almost terrifying in that—a promise we would have to upkeep ourselves.
But I was up to the task as I knew the generations to come would be. We could not let history be erased, we could not let what happened to either of us be repeated, and with us joined, we would not.