Dix should walk up to him and ask him to dance. xD
The day was nearly done, but the energy of the festival never seemed to wind down. There was always an instrument playing, always a luperci laughing, always the smell of food cooked and uncooked wafting through the excited winter air. The energy was much like that of the solstice celebration in the pack, but there were so many more bodies here, all new faces with potential to become allies. Once he could be pulled away from the horses, as he spent much of his time being a killjoy and fretting about them (and fussing over them tenderly when no one else was looking), Wayne had strode through the tents and watched some of the others celebrating or otherwise participating in exchange. He had the urge to trade for some of the interesting and useful objects that were on sell—but he’d brought pitifully little with him. Everything he owned he owned for some sort of purpose, after all, and it was hard to part with such things.
Giving up on the good examples of carpentry he’d been ogling, he decided to venture once more through the different packs’ tents. Some of the activities changed with the time of day, and those who had been out and about in the morning were different than the ones grinning at newcomers in the evening.
Candlelight flickered behind the fabric in one of the tents, and his interest was piqued. As he approached the entrance, the smell of Cour des Miracles hybrids reached him, and his tail waved behind him. This was Annan’s former pack, and it was also the pack that Alder belonged to. Ever since discussing horses with the young man, striking up what could easily be a good friendship with a little more time, Wayne had wondered when he would see the Marshall again. He’d looked for Hawthorn among the other horses and kept an eye open for the dark-masked wolf now as he stepped into the tent.
What awaited him was hardly the place for a stablehand, though; the flickering light illuminated the bodies of couples moving to music, swept up in the thrill of the cooling night. The young man looked around and tilted his head, recognizing a pair of Court members leading the others in the dance steps. It was then that he could see some of the pairs were clumsy, stepping on their partners’ paws or missing a move, but most of them laughed it off and were caught up in the delight of the dancing once again.
Wayne could feel a small smile crossing his face, but he smothered it and wandered over to the side of the tent to take a seat and simply watch. All southern folk knew a few of the essential dances—but this ballroom stuff was a bit above him, he thought, and he hadn’t really danced correctly since he was a green whelp.
SSWM Word Count → 483
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