The Choosing (2 page)

The people of Eladir can shift their human form into that of one of the sacred beasts of legend: the lynx, tiger, black panther, and jaguar. These animals used to roam the forest when there were no villages here, so the village elders tell. It was by the Goddess’s goodwill that people were allowed to settle in the forest, and in return the villagers accepted her magical gift—the power to shift—and helped protect her animals whenever they were in danger.

Jerath opens his eyes as Serim finishes speaking and smiles when she walks over and takes both her mother’s hands. “I understand what happens at the Choosing, Mother. But since there’s only Kyr who’s of age this moon, I will not be taking part.”

“So far,” her mother answers, and Jerath doesn’t miss the quick glance she casts his way. “There’s only Kyr so far, but there’s plenty of time left before the full moon. Kyr’s very handsome,” her mother adds, smirking in a way that has both Jerath and Serim blushing. “Most girls wo—”

“I am
not
most girls,” Serim cuts in, dark eyes flashing and her hands now resting on her hips. Jerath coughs to cover his laughter.

Although undeniably handsome and strong, Kyr is arrogant and mean. Unlike the rest of the girls in their village—and many of the neighboring villages too—Jerath knows that Serim doesn’t find Kyr appealing in the least, and he has to agree. There’s no way she’ll consent to being
Kyr’s
Chosen
.

“No,” Kinis says with a laugh, but looks at her daughter with pride. “You certainly aren’t.”

Jerath hopes that Kyr will find another girl for the ritual, because one way or another, Kyr will need a female partner. It’s very rare for a boy to go Unchosen, and it has only ever happened before when there were no unattached females. But if none should be forthcoming by the eve of the full moon, then the choice will be made by the village elders.

The ritual needs to be performed by the second full moon after the boys come of age. If it isn’t, then the ability to shift will be lost, and no one in the village would wish that on Kyr. Not even Serim.

“I
DON
’
T
understand why you don’t just say yes,” Mahli mutters as she, Serim, and Jerath hide out by the small lake just outside their village. There are three more days until the eve of the full moon, and Kyr has been pestering Serim nonstop all morning. “He’s not exactly unpleasant to look at,” she adds, smirking.

Jerath grins as Serim ignores Mahli and stretches her legs out. She dips her toes in the cool water and splashes her feet, wetting Jerath in the process. He sighs, leaning back on his hands; the sun is high in the sky and feels like a warm blanket on his skin.

“He wouldn’t be your first, so I don’t see what the problem is,” Mahli continues, batting her blonde hair out of her eyes and squinting in the glare of the sun.

“The problem is that I just don’t like him,” Serim whines, lying flat on the grass and closing her eyes. “He’s so full of himself and mean and just expects everyone to do as he says. Do you want to help him through his Choosing?”

“Well…,” Mahli starts, and Serim turns to glare up at her. Jerath watches them both with amusement. “Okay, okay,” Mahli laughs and holds up her hands. “No, I really don’t.”

“What about you, Jerath?” Serim asks, and Jerath’s face heats up. “Would you do it… if you could?”

Only Serim, Mahli, and a few others are aware Jerath prefers the boys in their village to the girls. It’s not exactly frowned upon, but it’s not encouraged either because it can complicate things when it comes to the Choosing. As Jerath is well aware. There are others who Jerath knows like to go with both boys and girls—like Balent—but in the end they always end up with a female mate. Jerath isn’t attracted to any of the girls in their village, and he’s terrified that he won’t be able to complete the ritual and will then lose his ability to shift.

He doesn’t answer Serim’s question because both girls know his feelings about Kyr. There’s no way he’d go near him. “You two are so lucky that you’re born knowing your animal form,” he says instead. “It’s not fair.” He pulls his feet out of the water and hugs his knees, dark hair falling forward and brushing over his skin. According to legend, it used to be only the females who had the ability to shift. They were born that way, their fangs coming in when they lose their baby teeth and their tattoos growing and changing with their bodies. It was only after years of praying to the Goddess of the Forest that the men were given the ability. But they had to go through the Choosing first.

“Imagine if we still followed the old ways,” Serim muses, and Mahli scoffs.

“Yeah, Kyr would never get to shift, then.”

The girls laugh, but Jerath secretly wonders whether that would apply to him too. The elders say the Chosen female would only consent to the ritual if the male was worthy. That has changed in recent years, and the ritual is completed whether the male is deemed worthy by the females or not. Jerath can’t help but think his lack of interest in the female form would have seriously hindered his chances if they still followed the old ways.

“I’m glad things have changed,” he says eventually. “But I still wish we didn’t have to do it.”

They lie there in silence for a while, watching the clouds as they pass overhead. There’s not much either girl can say. Jerath will just have to deal with it when his fangs come in—whenever that might be.

“So,” Mahli starts, and Jerath senses Serim instantly bristle at the teasing tone in her voice. “I saw Ghaneth today.”

“That’s nice,” Serim answers, her voice steady.

“Oh, come on, Serim,” Mahli coaxes, her tone a little softer. “I know you like him.”

Jerath chances a look at Serim, but she has her eyes closed. He catches Mahli’s eye instead and shakes his head when she raises an eyebrow. Jerath and Mahli have both been watching Ghaneth, looking for any signs he’s come of age, but Jerath saw him only this morning out by the barn and hadn’t noticed anything.

It’s risky to like a boy who hasn’t come of age. They don’t yet know their animal form, and only marriage between matching forms is allowed. It’s considered safer to stay away from unmarked boys altogether. The Choosing itself is the one and only time it’s acceptable.

In reality, not many of the younger generation stick to this rule. They aren’t interested in marriage just yet, and since the boys aren’t fertile until they get their tattoos, there’s no risk of pregnancy and most of them think,
Why not?
Jerath’s one of the few his age who is still a virgin, though that is due to lack of opportunity more than anything. He’s had the odd quick fumble behind the barn, but nothing more.

Neither Jerath nor Mahli would ever tell anyone about Serim’s feelings for Ghaneth. They all keep each other’s secrets without question. But Jerath can tell that Serim is reluctant to admit to anyone—even her best friends—that she does like Ghaneth. A whole lot more than she should.

“Mahli,” Serim warns, opening her eyes and glaring at her friend.

“We won’t tell anyone,” Jerath cuts in. “You can trust us.” Serim looks between the two of them, and Jerath smiles softly as he sees her resolve start to crumble. He knows from bitter experience how hard it is to keep your feelings all locked up inside, and he doesn’t want Serim to have to do that.

She stares at Mahli for a few seconds longer and then lets out a long, deep sigh. “Yes, okay. I do like Ghaneth. I like how his smile makes my belly all warm and tingly, how his eyes are the bluest of any I’ve ever seen. I really wish that it was his Choosing instead of Kyr’s.”

Wow. Jerath stares at Serim, openmouthed. He never expected her to admit it, let alone in such detail. Mahli just smiles in triumph and starts to speak, but Serim cuts her off. “But it doesn’t matter. He probably won’t be a match anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Mahli protests. Her green eyes automatically drift to the tattoo that curls around Serim’s left shoulder and disappears under the back of her dress. Jerath looks too, with more than a little bit of envy. His own back is still bare, a wide expanse of soft, pale skin that’s ready and waiting to be covered with his own cat, whichever one it might be.

Serim’s tattoo is that of a sleek, black panther; the tail loops over her shoulder and comes to rest along her collarbone. The body spans the middle of her back, and the head—jaws open and teeth bared—sits at the base of her spine. The whole tattoo is black, except for the eyes. On Serim’s panther the eyes are a vibrant blue, standing out in stark contrast. Jerath hasn’t failed to notice how similar they are to Ghaneth’s eyes.

“How old is he now?” Mahli asks. “He must be nearly—”

“He’s eighteen and four months,” Serim interrupts, then immediately blushes when Mahli raises a knowing eyebrow. Boys usually get their fangs as soon as they turn eighteen. Jerath is nearly nineteen and is already getting teased by some of the younger boys. “It’s not like I’m counting or anything,” Serim mumbles, looking away.

Mahli laughs, and the sound rings clear and true throughout the forest. “Of course not,” she answers, still smiling. “Come on, you two. We’d better be getting back,” she adds, getting to her feet and holding out her hands to help Serim and Jerath up. “I have chores to do.”

“Can we shift and run part of the way?” Serim looks at Jerath with pleading eyes. “It’s such a beautiful day and I feel all restless.” Mahli nods in agreement and Serim bats her eyelashes. Jerath just smiles and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t really mind when they change; he’s just a little jealous he can’t. “Only for a little way, I promise,” she adds.

Jerath nods and turns away as the two girls take off their dresses. He’s seen the two of them naked plenty of times. They all grew up together, for one thing, and since Jerath doesn’t like girls that way, both Mahli and Serim are very liberal with their clothes around him. He just doesn’t like to watch when they shift. There’s something very personal and intimate about it and he’s so desperate to have that for himself, watching them makes it ten times worse.

He hears the soft growls behind him and slowly turns back. It never ceases to steal his breath away when he sees them—especially Serim. Her panther is big, coming up to the top of Jerath’s thighs. Sleek black fur covers her muscular body, and when she turns her head, her bright-blue eyes shine out at him. Mahli’s cat is a lynx, so totally opposite to Serim’s panther. She’s smaller than Serim. Her fur looks just as soft, but instead of black, it’s a pale-brown color, dotted with black spots and edged in white. Her tail is short, she has tufts of black hair on the tips of her ears, and her eyes are a lovely burnished amber. They’re both beautiful, and Jerath can’t help but be awed as they stalk toward him.

They curl around his legs, purring. The deep rumbling sound vibrates through Jerath’s hands as he strokes their flanks. Serim butts her head against his fingers and he scratches behind her ear. To an outsider, it would look like madness to pet a wildcat in such a fashion, but when the body shifts into this wild, untamed animal form, the mind remains the same. Well, more or less, from what the girls tell him. According to them, although they feel like themselves, there’s also a wild edge to it all that makes them more daring and adventurous than they would normally be. Jerath can’t wait to find out for himself.

They let him stroke them for a couple of moments more, and he buries his hands in their soft fur. “Go on, then,” he says and gives them both a pat on their behinds. “Show me what you’ve got.” Serim turns and growls at him. Even in this form she manages to look unimpressed. Jerath laughs. He wouldn’t be surprised if she rolled her eyes too. They give him one last look before bounding off through the trees and out of sight.

He walks over to their discarded clothing and reaches down to scoop it up. He folds their undergarments inside the dresses to try to preserve at least some of their modesty. With the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm, he heads back toward the village. It’s about a twenty-minute walk, but Jerath sets a leisurely pace, giving the girls time to play and get all that excess energy out of their systems. He can hear them, crashing through the woods with no thought to stealth, but he can’t see them through the thick trees.

He wonders how long he’ll have to wait until he can join them. Until he can shed his human form and really feel what it’s like to race through the forest with animal speed and careless abandon. He’s old, by his village’s standards, for an unchanged boy, but it’s not unheard of for a boy to be so late developing. There was one from the neighboring village who didn’t come of age until he was nearly twenty years old, but that was a very rare case and Jerath prays to the Goddess of the Forest that he won’t have to wait
that
long.

It’s not just the ability to shift that will come with his fangs—assuming he can perform the ritual, which is another concern entirely—but for the men it means improved strength and agility. Jerath isn’t weak; he works hard at his chores in the fields and around the village, and his body is lean and toned without any trace of fat. But he isn’t as strong as some of the other boys, and he is also clumsier than most.

It’s not just the younger boys who have started to tease him either. It’s not really malicious and most of them don’t mean any harm by it, except maybe Kyr. Although Jerath thinks that’s more to do with his friendship with Serim than anything else. At first he just laughed along with them, but the older he gets, the more it bothers him.

Jerath sighs and kicks at a large stone on the path in front of him. It skitters into the undergrowth and disappears from view, and he realizes the forest is suddenly quiet. He can’t hear Serim and Mahli anymore, and his spine bristles with anticipation. He’s almost outside the village now, and the girls will need to shift back and dress before they go any farther. They do this every time, but it still makes Jerath’s heart beat faster as he waits for them to pounce.

He stops and carefully places the clothes on a large rock off to the side. He turns in a circle, straining to look through the trees, but he can’t see or hear any movement whatsoever. They’ve gotten better at stalking him over the last few months.