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For as long as she had been living here, Aurèle had still not been able to find much of a purpose behind the ceremonies. Yet she attended them dutifully, and expected the same of her son. Anatole was still young, and he liked to see the unique rituals his pack performed. Seeing Dawali dressed up as he was made the boy chuckle, but Aurèle hushed him quickly. While they did not live in their Optime forms, many of the tribe chose to do so. Aurèle had caught Anatole playing with spears and other tools and this too pleased her. He needed to accept these things gradually, even if his mother would not.
This had proven to be useful, however, as Anatole had begun holding onto things he found. While his mother had brought the skull of the doe she had killed not that long ago, Anatole had to struggle to pick something out of his collection of things. A white rock was finally chosen, one he had found during one of his expeditions around the village. Both of these items were sitting between the pair.
As their leader did, and others followed, the two wolves pushed dirt into the fire using their hands. It was one of the few times that either took on the Optime form. Aurèle, tall and long-haired and beautiful, and her son strong and young, with a shock of black hair that tumbled to his eyes and no further. They settled back and Aurèle made a point not to look for her sister’s face.