Rite of Passage

By S.R. Thornton

Tala has been a spectator of the Mating Ceremony for the last 40 years. Now that she’s 135 she can participate in it. Tala wants no part of the ceremony where the Alpha and Betas get to choose a mate from the women who feel privileged to be chosen. Tala doesn’t feel privileged. Not even when the Alpha, Slade, chooses her to be the next Queen of her people. She wants to run away, but the best she can do is leave for a few days with the hunting party. Out on a hunt, an encounter with a bear leaves Tala unconscious floating down the river until she’s fished out by Dakota, a Navajo apprentice shaman. Now she’s living amongst his people trying to remember who she is and not realizing what she is. Will she discover her identity? Will the Navajo’s discover what is slaughtering their livestock at night? Will Slade and her clan find her before the Mating Ceremony? Does she want to be found?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.R. Thornton
• Release date: Dec 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310058868

S.R. Thornton

S.R. Thornton currently lives in the Baltimore area with her three sons where she works a 9–5 job in the inner harbor of Baltimore.It was a few years after moving to Baltimore that her eldest son and she were comparing unique dreams they’d had. As he had before, her son insisted she write her dream down and make a book. After insisting that, although great at writing poems and short stories in school, there was no way she could write an entire novel, she finally gave it a try and completed her first nearly 600 page novel in three weeks. She found the experience so relaxing and enjoyable that she kept going. In the last six years S.R. Thornton has finished over 30 novels in various genres, including vampire, werewolf, witches, contemporary and historical romance that she’s now ready to share with others.

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Rite of Passage

S.R. Thornton

Copyright © 2013 S.R. Thornton

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 9781310058868

DEDICATION

To my family for always encouraging me

Also By S.R. Thornton

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Isabelle has a one night stand with Devin on her way home to the family ranch. She arrives and realizes Devin is her father’s right hand man who hates her for abandoning her father eight years earlier.

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Kylie’s just been told she’s a werewolf, her real name is Sasha, she’s to be Queen of her clan, and the man she’s been fighting with is her betrothed through an arranged marriage.

Chapter One

The world outside our clan had changed so much. In the 135 years I’ve been alive I’ve witness such an expansion in America amongst the world of man. The year I was born, 1607, the Colony of Virginia was founded. Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Maryland became colonies and providences over the next thirty or so years. The humans had created Harvard, an institution where they taught their offspring. Several of their leaders in a far off land they called Great Britain declared war with other nations. My clan, although interested in the changing world around us, paid little attention to the outsiders the neighboring tribesman of Shoshoni Indians referred to as white man.

It didn’t bother us when they established Florida or when the Yamasee Indians became their allies. We didn’t care when they slaughtered thousands of their own kind for practicing the ancient art of witchcraft or nature based religion that some of our kind followed. Granted we couldn’t understand what they had against herbs for medicinal use, but they were not our problems. No, we didn’t concern ourselves with these new invaders. At least not at first. It wasn’t until 1699 when these pale face foreigners colonized the land they called Mississippi that we began to take notice. Not that we cared what they called the land we didn’t use. No, our issue was that they were getting closer. Closer to the mountains and forests in what would eventually be called Colorado. Closer to where we had lived long before man ever walked the Earth. Yes, we had tolerated the native tribes that had become our neighbors hundreds of years before. However, they had always kept to their land, never venturing into our domain, mostly out of fear. They told their young tales of golden eyes that stalked humans like prey. They spoke stories of large furry creatures with razor sharp claws and jaws that could crush a man. They chanted their protection spells to guard their villages from the shadows lurking in the dark. From the evil ones they called Skinwalkers.

Up until now, our lives had been just that. Legends passed down through the ages no one quite knowing if they were real or fiction. Nevertheless, with more humans venturing to the west it was inevitable that one day we would be discovered. We would have to reveal ourselves and face the world of man. If that day ever came who knows what the outcome would be. Would they run in fear at the sight of a nine-foot tall beast or would they gather their armies and try to extinguish our race as they had many of the Native Americans. It was a fate I didn’t want to think about as I had another fate more immediate and pressing that was only a few months away.

My Clan, the Silvana, was one of the last five remaining tribes of werewolves. There were the Oreas. The peacekeepers that were driven out of northern parts of Africa when the Egyptians stop revering them as Gods and began viewing them as demons. Now they wander as a nomadic tribe. They live as gypsies with their longest residency being their semiannual visits to our forest when the council meets and during the mating selection.

The Livanas are the free spirited allies of nature. They are the only tribe comprised of mostly woman and live their lives protecting our Mother Earth. Their love doesn’t stop with nature. They are also blessed with talent for the arts. Every year during the Mating Selection they entertain the tribes with their songs, dances and musical accomplishments. They love all things and most of all they love love. It’s not uncommon for them to fall quickly for a potential mate.

My mother comes from a tribe known as the Ulrics. They were once the great rulers of my kind mixing their bloodlines with the local humans even though that was frowned upon by the other clans. But just as their kin, the Native American Cherokees, they became suppressed by the newcomers and lost their control. For a short time they fought side by side with the Europeans against enemy Native Americans of the Great Lakes, but it was only in an effort to regain their lands. When that failed their bitterness for the intruders returned and they settled in the lands to the north known as Canada. Now they live in the wilderness ever remaining true to their Native American ancestral roots.

Once the Ulrics lost their rule of the tribes, my tribe took it over. But, not without a fight from the Mikasi a ruthless tribe who’s glory is measured by battle scars. Self-sacrifice is an honor and mercy is unheard of. Weakness is never tolerated and hierarchy is their greatest ambition. It was a war that lasted for many years before the Silvana were declared victorious and even now the tension between the two tribes can be felt with each gathering. The Mikasi stand behind our thrown so to speak and one day soon I suspect they will want to take a seat.

As for my tribe. Like the Mikasi the Silvana were a ruthless tribe of around 1000 strong, making us the largest clan. We are the warriors who think our kind is better than the rest. We are proud, regal and noble with courage, honor and beauty beyond compare. But unlike our brotherin we are not so friendly with the humans. In fact, the Silvana hate and resent humans for the way they treated wolves and how they had reduced our kind to legends. A Silvana would rather gut a human just so he didn’t have to look at him, which is why we live in the deepest forest and mountains as far away from them as we can. To breed with a human or risk oneself for one, as our other clans do, was simply unheard of. No we kept to our own kind or our cousins the wolves. I pity the humans that try to walk in our woods.

But I wasn’t like them. Even being born under a full moon, the warrior moon that empowers those under the sign with rage and an instinct to fight, didn’t seem to affect me. Of course, my father says because of my rebellious nature I should have been born under the New Moon. It’s not that I mean to rebel or question the status quo; it’s just in my nature to do so. Just as I see nothing wrong with humans, I don’t understand some of the rituals that my people hold true to.

Aren’t you nervous or at least excited? my sister, Val, asked as she stood brushing her hair for the millionth time.

About what? I asked even though I knew exactly what she was referring to.

Slade is coming home.

Why would I be excited?

Now that his mate is gone he’ll need to choose another one at the Mating Celebration. Can you imagine being chosen to be the alpha female and to a man that looks like him, she said with a childish giddiness in her voice that made me want to gag. I loved my sister but her romantic ideas of love were never mine. Maybe my thinking was different from hers because I never thought of the Mating Celebration having anything to do with love. Power, position, beauty, alliances, and wealth yes. Love, well if you were lucky that might come later.

I’m sure it will be a great honor for whomever he chooses, I replied trying to sound supportive of the tradition that I didn’t believe in.

I wish I was old enough to participate. Why couldn’t I be born a few years earlier? she whine flopping back on the bed releasing a sigh of frustration and defeat.

You’re only a couple months under the age limit. Who knows, maybe he’ll take one look at you and decide that he must have you for his mate and he’ll change the rules so you two can be together, I found myself saying. Once again I was trying to be supportive of this stupid custom where the Alpha male and his betas get to choose their mates before the other men. While we, the women, are supposed to be filled with an overwhelming joy that they chose us. Granted most did feel overjoyed and found it a great honor. I however was not looking forward to standing in a parade of woman while the men inspected us and checked our family linage and wealth before they bargained with our father or another male relative for our hand in matrimony.

Hurry up girls, my father called from the downstairs of our regal two story wood house. That was one thing we did learn from the invading Europeans, how to build larger and nicer homes, and even though the Silvanas hate humans I’m not sure there is one amongst us that doesn’t like the new fashion styles we adopted from them.

Tala, why aren’t you wearing your blue day dress? You are one of the few amongst us with the eyes of water and you should accent that. Go change, my mother told me looking down at the cream and deep rose colored dress that had always been my favorite. Besides, you know all the other girls will be wearing blue because it’s Slade’s favorite color, she pointed out.

Which is why I’m wearing red so I don’t blend in, I confidently said. It wasn’t that I wanted to stand out to impress the 187-year-old alpha of our tribe, but I also wasn’t going to wear a dress just because it was his favorite color. Subconsciously maybe I wasn’t wearing blue because I knew it was his favorite and frankly I didn’t want to be one of the simpletons that catered to a man's every desire. Not to mention I was hoping to be passed over in the selection process. At 135, which would equate to the maturity of an 18-year old human, I was at the right age to marry and settle down, but it wasn’t anything I desired especially to some man I didn’t care for who only wanted me for my family heritage and my looks.

Why do you always have to be so rebellious, my mother huffed knowing she would not sway my decision in the dress I had chosen. Tell her to go change, my mother insisted from my father.

It’s that Full Moon blood, my father teased giving me wink. And I think you look as lovely as the first rose of spring, although maybe not quite as delicate, he added with a smirk.

I give up, she sighed. It probably wouldn’t matter if you were in blue, I’m not sure what man would even want to marry a rebellious strong willed stubborn woman anyways, she added without the joking tone my father would have used. I just don’t know where I went wrong. I have one who is the perfect picture of femininity and charm and one that is headstrong and frankly should have been born male.

It suits me just fine if none of the men choose me. I for one find this custom ridiculous and could care less about being anyone’s mate, I proclaimed making my mother nearly faint in disbelief. Why wouldn’t it. At my age, it was a logical step in a women’s life, it was a rite of passage that most couldn’t wait to embrace.

How do I look? Val asked pouncing down the stairs in her cornflower colored gown that I had watched her alter ever so slightly the evening before so the bodice was just a tad bit tight allowing her breast to swell up over the fabric.

You look lovely dear, my father assured.

Are you growing out of that? my mother asked tugging up on the shoulders of the gown to try to make my sisters assets a little less noticeable. I just snickered.

By the time we reached the large community gathering hall all the suitable girls, dressed in their finest daytime attire, gossiped amongst themselves while their parents bragged to the beta males about the outstanding achievements and beauty of their daughters. It wasn’t quite time for the selection process to begin, but with the celebration of our leader returning from his eight month stay with the other tribes, it was as good of time as any to start the auction so to speak. Girls everywhere were coyly batting their eyes at the betas just in case they weren’t chosen by Slade. Me on the other hand, well my mother had to drag me in.

What took you so long? my excited friend that I had known all my life asked.

Well Ava, had to look my best now didn’t I, I replied with maybe a little more sarcasm than was necessary.

I can’t believe you’re not excited. You are the only wolf I know that is actually dreading the ceremony.

At least I have a few more months before my life ends and the misery of marriage begins.

Are you going to honestly tell me that not a single man here catches your fancy?

Not a one, I assured.

What about Nicodemus, he’s the third in command and his descendants come from the purest royal blood in Russia.

And he is welcome to pass that blood onto someone who cares, I replied as I watched my sister put her shoulders back and chest out before she slowly walked past a few of the betas, waving her fan to look delicate and shy. Shy, right. Not my sister. Ever since she was a young cub she liked men and unlike most well-bred woman she didn’t hide the fact. She took every opportunity to subtlety flirt in the hopes of marrying young, and well off for that matter.

What about Falkor? she insisted.

Too domineering, and boring for that matter. I can’t picture myself staying at home all day cooking and cleaning with no excitement, while I wait for him to come home so I can wait on him hand and foot while he brags about his latest adventure that I wasn’t allowed to go on. No thanks.

That’s what the wife is supposed to do. Cook, clean and care for the kids and most enjoy that. Unlike you who likes to fish, scout, and hunt with the pack and you wonder why you don’t fit in.

I don’t care if I fit in or not. I’m not going to stop doing what I love because my gender is supposed to be more domesticated, I said. Of course, just as the entire room became quiet for Slade's entrance I added, I personally think this ritual is outlandish and I would love not to be a part of it.

I felt every eye around the room on me as I watched my mother’s hands cover her face in embarrassment while the other girls gasped in disbelief before they inhaled deeply as the talk six foot, dark haired leader approached and stopped in front of me. Even I had to admit that he was good looking with his strong face, lean body and golden orange eyes that sat staring at me for what seemed like an eternity. He took a step back and I watched as his eyes ran over every inch of me before his thin lips curved. Well look at how you’ve grown, he said in a voice that sounded as if there was certainly approval in his statement. In a lighter tone, he added, although still so defiant.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement, but as I watched my mother and sister push their way through the crowds towards us, I found myself saying, I meant no disrespect.

She was only teasing, my mother promised, but something in his eyes told me he didn’t believe that any more than my mother did.

I doubt that, he said. Tell me, Tala, does your father still permit you to hunt and fish with the men or has your mother put a stop to your tomboy ways?

Once again I had no idea what the correct response to that question was but I didn’t need a reply as a few girls beside me volunteered the answer they assumed would make his nose turn up in disgust. She was just out three days ago getting muddied up in the rain while she hunted deer with the men, Gwyneth, miss high and mighty my family is richer than anyone else’s, snidely replied.

I could see all the color disappearing from my mother’s face as she stammered, I told her not to go my Lord, but…

And how many deer were you able to catch.

Three.

And the men?

A total of five between the six of them, I replied noting the curve of his lips turn up even higher.

So unladylike, Gwyneth said giving me a look to tell me she would make every attempt to make me look unmatchworthy, and I’m sure she would do the same with all the others given the chance if it made her look more appealing to our leader.

I would have liked to have seen that, Slade said shifting his gaze between Gwyneth and me before they settled on the aristocratic brat to my side. You know, there is nothing wrong with a spirited woman, especially one that helps the packs survival, he said and I couldn’t help the grin that came to my face. At least until he looked at me and added, however, defiance and rebellion against our way of life and our ancestral beliefs is not anything I condone. This is who we are. This is who you are, and I suggest you come to turns with that in the next few months, because with your family heritage and your extraordinary beauty I have no doubt that you will be matched this year. The only reason you have been passed over the last two years is because… he started, but for some reason caught whatever insult I’m sure he had about my nature. Anyways, if you’ll excuse me I should greet the other guests, he said giving me one last look before he disappeared in the swarm of woman.

After the reprimand from my mother, I spent the next several hours by Val’s side as we went from one group to another mingling with the men and gossiping with the woman about the men. I politely smiled as I listened to who liked who, who hoped they would be passed over by certain men, who we thought would make good matches and of course Slade and his choice for the next alpha female.

I couldn’t help but look over at Slade as I wondered how he really felt about choosing a new mate. Was he selecting a new one because it was his desire, or was it simply because it was expected that he have a mate.

He and his other mate had been together for nearly 40 years. I remember the day he chose her. I was only in my 90s. At the time, I had thought the mating celebration was the most romantic thing of all. Even though I was too young to participate my family went to show support to the ruler of our kind. I remember thinking how beautiful and lucky the women were to be so wanted by these men. It wasn’t until later I found out it had nothing to do with love and everything to do with social standing and such.

I stood and watched as the woman lined up on one side of the gathering hall before everyone got quiet as Slade entered. Even at that young age, I thought he was handsome. Call it a childish adolescent infatuation or crush if you will. What fueled it further was when he walked by and briefly looked down at me smiling as he went. To my surprise and those around me, he stopped and backed up until he was standing in front of me. I still remember what he said, your eyes. Such a beautiful rarity amongst our kind. I’m sure at that age I blushed. At that he turned to my parents. Your daughter?

Yes, one of them replied, but I don’t recall which one.

Age?

She’s almost 95.

He never said anything else as he made his way to his seat. He did look back once before I watched him take the hand of the woman who would be his mate. 40 years I thought as I watched him conversing with some of the elders of our community. Can a couple really love each other for so long? Did he and his mate even love each other, if so did he still mourn her now, six months after her death? They always seemed like a polite and suitable match, yet there were speculations as to why they never had kids and rumors of their unhappiness were whispered in the air. If that were true what did they expect? What’s the likely hood of choosing a mate with love not even being in the top 10 reasons why you pick one? I probably would have thought about it longer had his eyes not met mine making me feel foolish for even wondering what his intentions were.

When he caught her looking his way all Slade could do was smile. What a beauty she had become, just as he expected. For 40 years he had thought about her. 40 years of not being able to get those eyes out of his head. But how could he. He knew the ancient prophecy that many had long forgotten. A light eyed female from the clan of the wolf will bring unity to those once thought to be enemies. With the tradition of the children being part of the mothers clan and her mother coming from the Ulric’s, translated to mean the wolf, the chances of her being that light eyed female was great for no other female from that