As the longest day of the year, it was a traditional day of ceremony and marked observance in numerous cultures. In some places, it was a holy day. In others it represented an instance of celebration, mirth, festivals or grand parties. It was a day out of time, one where baccha.n.a.ls and fertility G.o.ddesses danced together. It was a day where one was encouraged to step outside the normal grind of planting and harvesting to give thanks to the sun that grew their crops, to the ground that held them.

To wolves, it apparently meant an absolutely obscene amount of food and an even larger bonfire.

Sitting on the porch of their cabin, watching the preparations, Randall couldn't help but marvel at how some traditions never changed. The pack was preparing to move, furnishings being packed up, arrangements being made. A small group of scouts had even been sent out yesterday to check out the possible spots Jed had found for the pack to settle. But today, it was all about the celebration.

Edwin was out there, chasing after a platter of freshly butchered meat, trying to charm a predinner snack from the women carrying it. Anthony was hovering nearby, eyes firmly fixed on Edwin. After their brother's little disappearing trick the other day, Randall was frankly surprised Anthony hadn't put Edwin on a leash.

If he squinted, he could just make out Victor hovering on the other edge of the gathering, some kind of package in his hands as he scowled at everyone. He looked like he was trying to make his way through the crowd, though he wasn't being very successful.

Phoenix, the half blood, was scheduled to talk at the celebrations today. Later, Randall had heard, a few local half bloods from the nearby area would show up, granted access for one day only. Rumor had it that the Gray Lady had initially refused them, but since she planned to move, she obviously felt safe enough to give out their location to a select few. The knowledge would cease to be relevant in a week, after all.

Randall wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. Moving, leaving everything he'd known, Phoenix being there... he just didn't know. Maybe it didn't matter. Anthony needed the pack, and that was the most important thing.

Good thing he'd already dropped out of school. Not that his brothers knew that, but moving several states away would have put a huge cramp in his commute.

"Randall!" He looked up to see Victor had finally made his way through the crowd, his free arm held in front of him like a barrier to stop overly friendly wolves from b.u.mping into him. "I wanted to catch you before Phoenix spoke. I think after that happens, the alcohol will start to flow freely and I'll have to hide in my cabin."

Randall had to admit that he stared blankly for far too long. Victor seeking him out was not a normal occurrence. And with everything that had happened, with all the confusion and the really good kisses and the fact that Victor had looked terrified after both, Randall had a.s.sumed the man would take the pack moving as an opportunity to leave and never see him again. "Is something wrong?" he asked, half standing, frowning. Of course that had to be the reason. Why else would Victor come find him?

"No, no, not at all," Victor a.s.sured. "I wanted to give you something."

He held out the package to Randall. It was tidily wrapped in brown paper, and from the shape of it, it had to be a book. Stunned, Randall reached out, taking it and staring at it like it was something he'd never seen before. He looked back up at Victor, unsure. "You brought me a gift?"

"It's merely something I wanted you to have." Victor looked faintly embarra.s.sed. "It's not in the best condition, I'm afraid."

Randall could feel the smile starting on his lips. He ducked his head to hide it, carefully tearing the paper from the package. It was, indeed, a book. Carry On, Jeeves, by P.G. Wodehouse. It was, as stated, in somewhat rough condition, the edges of the pages yellowed with age and use, but it was obviously not suffering from neglect. This was a cherished tome. Randall could see the love that had gone into turning the pages. The grin on Randall's face couldn't possibly be masked as anything but delight now. With reverent fingers, he opened it, caressing the well-worn paper. He leaned down and took a deep breath, delighting in the unique scent of a carefully handled old book. "I love it," he told Victor honestly, eyes rising to him. "Thank you, Victor. I will treasure it."

"It's my favorite," Victor replied, still sounding a bit awkward but obviously relieved that Randall liked his gift. He reached down to turn the pages back to the start, revealing the carefully handwritten notation on the inside cover: Victor Rathbone, age 6. "Have you read Wodehouse?"

It wasn't just a book. It wasn't just a nice t.i.tle that Victor enjoyed, that he'd picked up in some used-book shop and pa.s.sed on. This was his book, Victor's, and Randall knew how people like them felt about such things. It was a nice gift, to share a story you had enjoyed. It was an intensely intimate, completely amazing gift to give away a book you'd grown up owning. Victor's hands had touched this cover, had turned these pages, countless times before. He'd fallen asleep with this book, he'd woken up and reached for it, he'd carried it with him and read it over and over, delighting in the places and characters it held.

It was a part of him. It was a piece of who he was, of what made up the man he'd become. To receive a bibliophile's book was like sharing in their soul.

Randall wasn't easily impressed by material goods. He didn't understand the point of jewelry. He thought flowers were nice but could be overdone. Chocolates were a decent dessert. This, though. This was the most romantic gift he could imagine receiving.

"I haven't," he managed, torn between staring at the pages and at Victor, stunned. "This will be my first."

Did Victor intend for this to be so important? Perhaps it was simply an extra copy, or maybe Victor didn't put such a hefty weight on his books. Maybe it was a consolation gift, given out of some sense of pity. Randall couldn't tell. Victor couldn't meet his eyes directly, the nuances of Victor's scent were unfamiliar to Randall, and he hadn't realized how much he relied on those things until they were taken out of the equation.

"I'm glad." He could see Victor's smile, though, the way it touched the corners of his eyes. "This book has always been the one thing I'd literally take to the grave with me, but... it's helped me through some difficult times. I'd hoped it might do the same for you."

Throat tight, Randall studied Victor's face, feeling as though he should say something, do something, be something more, something worth receiving a gift like that. "Thank you," was all he could think to say, his voice low and thick with emotion. He stood then, reaching out to lightly touch Victor's arm before he forced his hand to fall away. "I truly can't think of anything I could cherish more."

Even if it meant nothing to Victor, Randall knew he would treasure the book. Even if Victor never felt the way Randall did, it didn't diminish Randall's own emotions. It just made them a bit lonelier, was all.

"Good." Victor smiled tentatively at him again. "May I sit, if you're looking for company?"

Randall really was trying not to read too much into this. He'd pushed twice, he'd kissed Victor, and while both times had been amazing, it had been abundantly clear that Victor was... well, confused at best. Randall had decided to step back and let Victor have the easy out he obviously wanted. But he was smiling at Victor as he nodded, gesturing to the steps of the porch and taking his own seat again. He was cradling the book carefully, absently rubbing his thumb along the spine.

"I feel a little useless," Randall said, forcing himself to stop staring at Victor. "All this activity and I'm not doing much to help." Their knees were budged lightly together. Randall stared at the point of connection, raising his eyes to Victor's face as heat flushed his cheeks. He was being ridiculous. He really needed to stop overreacting to everything. "Have you ever partic.i.p.ated in a solstice celebration?"

Victor gave a muted chuckle. "Only once or twice. I'm afraid parties aren't really my thing." Even from this distance, the light of the bonfire flickered over his features, reflecting off his gla.s.ses. "The celebrations I'm invited to tend to be quite different than this."

When Randall looked back at the partying wolves, Edwin was dancing with one of the women he'd been trying to charm earlier. The food was out, and there were cl.u.s.ters of wolves coming in to eat, a small group of people with instruments playing a light, springy tune. The preparations looked to be finished, and now the party was beginning.

"Oh?" Randall wasn't much interested in joining in. He'd much rather sit and get to know Victor. Which might be incredibly lame, but Randall thought if the pack really was going to be leaving in a week, he should take this chance. "I've never really been to, uh, anything like this. The group I went to Egypt with had a bar crawl the night before we left, but I didn't last very long." He gave Victor a sheepish look. "Not a big drinker, I guess." He'd actually wound up singing bad karaoke and then pa.s.sing out after kissing the bartender. Randall referred to that night as the time we do not speak of. There was a reason Randall didn't go out drinking.

"Neither." Victor was smiling, from what Randall could see of his face. "This is very wolfish. The solstice celebrations I keep getting invited to year after year are actually through contacts and friends that my parents had. I was never interested in joining that particular group for partying, but they keep insisting."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edwin take the arm of another girl who was walking past, pulling her into the growing group of wolves dancing around the fire. It was, indeed, very wolfish. The stars were barely visible, the sun still hovering on the horizon, the smell of meat along with the smoke of the bonfire. Randall caught Anthony's eye across the way and smiled at him, nodding to Edwin. Anthony grinned back. In that moment, Randall felt perfectly content. "Are your parents still with you?" Randall asked, turning back to Victor.

"Oh no, they died quite some time ago," Victor replied. "They were good people, but I do despise their friends." He turned his head slightly to look at Randall, and, as if knowing what he was going to ask next, said, "My mother was the one with the medusa blood. I was very young when they died, and I'm not sure if their car accident was the result of her mind letting go, but I suspect that was the case."

A frown flickered across Randall's face. "I'm so sorry, Victor," he murmured, his hand, almost of its own accord, going to rest lightly against Victor's arm. There was nothing more he could say, so he just sat there, turned toward Victor, fingers gently wrapped around his arm.

"Thank you." To Randall's surprise, Victor placed his own hand over Randall's. "They maintained connections in the half-blood world. There's a sort of, er, pretend high society where some of them are considerably snootier than other half-blood breeds. I want nothing to do with it, but the invites keep coming. Though I'm not a fan of parties, I must say I appreciate the honesty of wolves much more."

Marveling at how warm Victor's hand was, how dry and smooth his fingers were, Randall dared to hook one of his fingers around Victor's. "They are rather enjoying themselves, aren't they?" he half laughed, turning to watch. The food was a big hit, half the meat being cooked, the other half laid out fresh and raw. Edwin ran past with the two women, chasing after a man in a wild dance, catching the male wolf and swinging him around with a happy laugh. The four of them danced together, Edwin happily flinging his arms around whomever was closest.

"There's food," Randall pointed out, throat a bit dry, not sure what one did in circ.u.mstances like this. He desperately wanted to point out they were all but holding hands, but at the same time, he was certain that making an issue of it would mean it would end. "Should we try some?" He gave Victor a shy, hopeful smile. "I'll be brave if you will. I'm sure they have to have something you'll like."

"I'm sure they will."

Randall only barely picked up the murmured words, but before he could ponder too long about what sounded like a double meaning in them, Victor was standing beside him, using his free hand to dust off his pants. Victor released Randall's hand but offered his crooked arm instead. Randall couldn't even begin to stop his pleased grin. He tucked the book safely by the doorway, and, standing himself, he slipped his arm through Victor's, laughing again lowly as they made their way together down to the celebration.

The drums started to thrum in the air as the bonfire grew ever larger, feeding on the wood underneath it. Summer solstice was a day more potent than the full moon.

Edwin was now with a huge group that had turned into one of the most primal, raw dances Randall had ever seen. They all looked more wolflike now than they did in their actual fur, eyes gleaming yellow in the dying light, toothy grins and casual touch. Edwin danced with Mallory, a woman with bouncy blonde curls behind him. He raised his chin to the sky and howled. The others echoed his cry, and Randall felt a surge of heat through him, a sudden wish to run, to strip down and dance under the moon, to greet the summer with fur and teeth and a full-throated yell.

Randall stumbled to a halt, eyes closing, taking in a deep breath. His heart was echoing the beat of the music. The howls that reverberated around them thrummed through his veins. Even on the moons, he'd never felt a pull this strong. He knew his eyes would be yellow, his voice dropping to a low growl as he shook off the sudden thrill through him. "Sorry," he murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair. "That's.... I don't know what that is."

Victor had come to a stop beside him, watching him curiously, a strange light in his eyes. "Er. Yes, no, that's quite all right. Absolutely all right. You-yes. Carry on."

Randall took another deep inhale, smelling meat, smelling wolves, but above all he could smell Victor. Tea and dry scales over rock, books, power, and cinnamon, all the things Randall knew as Victor, only more somehow. More immediate. More urgent. Randall's hand slid up Victor's chest, heat flushing through him as he tangled his fingers into the hair at the base of Victor's neck. "Come on," he murmured, more daring as the music rose higher, as the sun disappeared and the half-full moon slipped into her rightful place.

Tugging Victor with him out into the throb of wolves dancing, Randall grinned, moving with the music. He wasn't graceful, no, but G.o.d it felt good. "It's the solstice," he said, leaning in close to Victor's ear to be heard. "I think we should partic.i.p.ate. For research purposes, of course."

"You want me to dance?" Victor looked nothing less than terrified at the idea. "I'm not sure that's a very good idea. Not unless you want to unleash chaos."

Randall just laughed. He wouldn't normally be doing this either, except there was the beat of the drums, the high thrill of the music, the sound and scents of an entire pack of wolves welcoming the solstice. He felt so wolfish that not partic.i.p.ating seemed impossible. "Come on, medusa," he teased, arms wrapping loosely around Victor's neck. "It's not a ritual dance. The old G.o.ds won't be displeased if we're terrible. Unless you'd rather I stop bothering you and let you go back to your cabin?" It was a legitimate question, Randall waiting, unsure, for the answer.

He could see his own yellow gaze reflected back at him in Victor's gla.s.ses, the man's downcast eyelashes providing only the smallest peek at Victor's actual eyes, blue lit brighter by the fire. And although he still looked horrified at the idea of dancing, Victor started to relax. He put one hand on Randall's hip, unsure of his movements.

"If there's dancing to be done, I cannot think of a more ideal partner," Victor said.

Randall's smile was softer. He rested his forehead on Victor's, closing his eyes so that Victor wouldn't have to worry about meeting them by accident. "You confuse me so much, my Beatrice," he murmured. "And yet I've never been happier to not know the answers."

They moved together, somewhat slower and definitely more restrained than the wild whirl of wolves around them. But it was perfect. Randall relaxed into Victor's arms, laughing as they experimentally spun around. Randall caught sight of Jed and Redford at the edge of the group, swaying together, completely caught up in each other. He nudged Victor and nodded toward them. Apparently someone had finally made up.

Victor made an amused noise low in his throat. Where he might have speculated, he instead just turned his attention back to Randall. Even when Edwin spun by in the arms of yet another partner, dragging Mallory behind him, Victor didn't seem to notice. All that was happening around them, and Victor was focused only on Randall. He had to admit, he wasn't quite sure what to do with the attention.

They gravitated closer without conscious thought, at first only their knees and arms brushing together, then more, then closer still until there was no s.p.a.ce between them at all. Victor pressed his cheek lightly against Randall's, his arms hooked low around Randall's back. Every inch of Randall responded, every part of him feeling as though it had been formed only to fit in against those parts of Victor. Taking a low, shuddering breath, Randall turned his head, nudging his nose in under Victor's ear.

It was an intensely personal thing, to smell someone's neck. To get that close, that intimate, to such a vulnerable place. Randall shouldn't; he didn't have the right. But Victor just held him closer, and Randall gave in to the thrill of his scent. "If we're not careful," he murmured, lips catching against Victor's skin, "I might kiss you again."

He felt a nudge against his own neck, Victor mirroring his actions. "Who's to say I'd want to avoid that now?"

Eyes closed, Randall felt every throb of his heartbeat, every surge of heat through his gut at Victor's breath on his neck. He'd never had anyone do that to him before. Not like this. And Randall honestly hadn't expected such an immediate physical reaction. It was like he was suddenly acutely aware of the arch of his own neck, the shiver of muscles under taut skin. Slowly, Randall pulled back. There was that breathless beat, he and Victor standing still in the middle of the wild dervish of movement and sound.

And then they leaned in, the both of them together, Victor's hands sliding up to cup Randall's cheeks. They kissed, and it wasn't hesitant, it wasn't Victor holding back. Not this time. Randall heard himself moan loudly as Victor teased his tongue against Randall's lips, as they sank further into each other with a spark of heat.

When they broke away, Randall biting at Victor's lip, Victor ghosted the faint promise of a kiss against Randall's mouth as they panted in a breath. Stunned, Randall wasn't even sure what to do. He'd never had a kiss like that before.

"Randall, I-"

The murmurs of the crowd grew into a roar around them, the crackle of a microphone audible above the cries for a speech, the applause, and the excitement.

Phoenix must have arrived. Randall had never hated anyone more than he did Phoenix in that moment. Whatever Victor had said was lost, the dance breaking up in favor of the pack sprawling out with food and company around what appeared to be a large tree stump turned into an impromptu stage.

"Victor." Randall turned to him, searching his face, trying to catch the moment again. Victor's fingertips touched Randall's cheek.

"To be continued?" Victor said, raising his voice to be heard over the cheering.

They made their way closer, finding a spot to sit. Edwin was curled up in a pile with at least four other people, his head lying on the lap of some man whom Randall vaguely remembered seeing around and the blonde woman sprawled out next to him, using him as a pillow herself. Randall had to laugh. Yeah, that was definitely his brother. Anthony was just a little ways off, a blanket tucked around him, looking content.

Nearby, Randall spotted Jed and Redford. They were sitting together, Jed resting with his back to Redford's chest, Redford's arms around him, and their fingers laced tightly. Jed was kissing Redford's chin, the two of them whispering and smiling, intensely intimate. It was... nice, to see them happy again. Randall hadn't realized how good they were for each other until they'd started fighting. Jed had a plate piled high with grilled meat, and he fed Redford a messy bite after eating his own, both of them laughing at their joint attempts.

As for himself, his hand was still entwined with Victor's. They were sitting together, Victor's shoulder pressed against his own, and Randall didn't care what else happened. This was one of the best nights of his life.

Above the crowd, Randall could see Phoenix stepping onto the huge tree stump, the portable speaker by his feet and the microphone in his hand. Randall realized he could smell other scents mixed in with the wolves now, a few scattered half bloods who had arrived with Phoenix.

Phoenix himself was a tall, willowy man with angular features and an effortlessly crowd-commanding presence. Blond hair fell to his shoulders, and pale eyes watched them all calmly. Randall wished he could pinpoint the man's scent. He had to admit, he was curious to know what kind of half blood he was, considering that he was doing rallies for them. Some of the breeds of half bloods had natural leadership instincts, but Randall couldn't pick up the scent of any of those types right now.

"Good evening," Phoenix said. He didn't shout into the microphone or motion them all to be silent. He merely waited for the crowd to quiet down before he continued. "I trust you're all having a good solstice?"

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Randall leaned in to whisper to Victor, lips catching the curve of his ear, "I can't tell what he is. Too many scents." It wasn't important information to share, perhaps, but it was an excuse to move a little closer.

Victor leaned into the contact. "Well, looking at his height, I'd feel safe in saying he's not a dwarf," he joked.

Randall laughed loudly. Unfortunately, it was during a lull in the crowd's noise, just before Phoenix began to speak. Heads swiveled around toward him, and Randall flushed hotly, wondering if it was possible for a wolf to dig a hole to hide in. He heard Edwin laugh then, louder, and start to clap, chanting Phoenix's name. It worked. Most of the wolves turned back to the stage, cheering again, the attention diverted from Randall. Randall sagged back, embarra.s.sed, covering his face with his free hand.

Phoenix inclined his head, half smiling at the encouragement. Once again he waited for the noise to taper off.

"I'm honored to be able to join you here today," Phoenix continued. "I can think of nowhere I'd rather be on the solstice than with my brothers and sisters." He paused, as if to let that sink in. "I call you that because, though you may be wolves and I may be a half blood, we are united in one thing: our superiority over the humans that are so destructive to the world they think they rule."

Randall noticed that some of the wolves didn't cheer. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in who did, though. The majority of them raised their voices in agreement, both young and old, men and women. Randall shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Victor, flicking a quick look over at Jed. Though he was still lounged back against Redford, Randall could see the sharpness in his gaze, the way his whole body had tensed. His hand had gone down to rest at his hip. Randall realized it was on his gun.

Jed was the lone human in a very large, very rowdy crowd. And now someone was talking about human inferiority. Randall couldn't blame him for being concerned.

"I'm here tonight to reach out." Phoenix seemed to look at each and every one of them, even though there were hundreds in attendance. "We are isolated. With our wolf packs and our half-blood dens, we only make ourselves weaker against the humans. Many of you know my philosophy, but for those who don't I will gladly bend your ear. Believe me. I can talk all day if you'll let me."

The crowd laughed, and Phoenix gave an easy, self-deprecating smile. Randall didn't buy it. There was something a little too calculating about that smile.

"I believe that we are superior. I believe that we are strong." Another cheer from the crowd. "And I believe we have so much in common that we should acknowledge more than we do now. We realize the Earth we live on is a precious, sacred thing that should be cherished and protected, not destroyed like the humans so carelessly do. We understand that history is also sacred, that we are intimately connected to our past and our bloodlines. We understand that the family we choose is everything. The humans? They waste such things, they forsake their bloodlines and their history, they forsake their planet, they forsake their family."

Jed was sitting up then, tenseness practically radiating off of him. Randall pleaded silently with him to keep his mouth shut. Up on his stage, Phoenix paused to give a faint sigh, then continued. "We are better than that. Unfortunately, right now we are the minority. We must still keep ourselves hidden. We must shield our true natures from the humans so that their fragile little minds do not break under the strain of true knowledge. I am sick of it."

This time Randall winced at the sheer volume of the agreeing shouts of the wolves around him. He caught sight of Anthony, who was shaking his head, looking disgusted. And then he heard a low, rolling growl, a steady rumble of noise. He knew the sound of it. Looking around, he found Edwin sitting up, eyes narrowed at Phoenix.

Giving a low bark under his breath, the noise nearly hidden in the applause, he nonetheless caught Edwin's attention. Edwin looked over at him, gesturing up at Phoenix. Randall just shook his head. Yes, he knew that what was being said was unbelievable. He also knew that trying to do anything was suicidal. At the very least, it'd start a fight that wouldn't solve anything.

"Know that at this time I am not advocating war, or violence, or attacks on the humans," Phoenix said. "They may be pitiable, but they do not deserve to die for their ignorance. Nor am I advocating walking plainly around the human cities as your true selves. I am here for other reasons. One, to share in your magnificent celebration. And two...."

Phoenix trailed off and held out a hand to his left, palm up. There was a moment's pause. The Gray Lady came through the crowd, wolves parting around her. She took Phoenix's hand. He bowed low, kissing her knuckles in reverence. Randall took a sharp intake of breath, eyes going wide. That, he had not seen coming.

"My lady," he murmured, still loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "You look absolutely stunning tonight. I did not ask you to dance earlier, and I will never regret any inaction more."

The Gray Lady smiled at him. Randall couldn't tell if she looked sincere or if she was just humoring him, maybe a mix of both. "Are you going to continue charming me, Phoenix, or should you continue your speech?"

Phoenix gave a melancholy sigh. "If only I had the time to do both." The Gray Lady's smile was genuine then, small but privately pleased at the flattery. Phoenix turned back to the microphone, still holding the Gray Lady's hand. "I propose a union," he announced. "Of half bloods and wolves."

The shocked murmurings of the crowd were respectfully quiet, but Phoenix still paused to let them speak to one another for a few moments.

"To ease your fears, no, I would not be suggesting that this camp suddenly be overrun with half bloods." The murmurs turned into laughs. Phoenix smiled briefly. "A diplomatic union, of sorts, though I would be privileged to call it a family union. We would continue our lives as we do today, but with the added benefit of knowing we have allies everywhere. The half bloods in the cities, the wolves in the country. Wherever we would go, we would feel safer. We would feel even stronger."

Phoenix shared a silent look with the Gray Lady. "I have been told that human hunters threaten your home here, and that you are relocating. With this union, I would offer allies at your new home, as well as added protection for the smaller packs who might remain here."

"He's offering them everything they could want," Randall murmured to Victor, eyes locked on the stage. "I don't know about you, but I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was three."

Victor looked pained. "I wish I could believe him," he whispered in reply. "Not about the superiority. But half bloods have never been a very solid community, not like wolves. A union would make them a community as they banded together to help the wolves here."

"It is a good idea," Randall agreed, squeezing Victor's hand, voice low, head tipping toward Victor to keep their conversation private. "I wish it could happen. Maybe someday. But not from him. I don't know why, but I don't trust him."

Phoenix seemed to have fallen silent to let the wolves discuss what he had said. Victor shook his head. "Neither," he sighed. "Wasn't Edwin a fan of this man? He didn't seem to be too happy earlier."

"This is much more inflammatory than what I'd heard him speak of earlier." Randall frowned. "I don't know what Edwin's heard, but I went to one of Phoenix's speeches shortly after I got back from Egypt. He talked a lot about half-blood and full-blood unity, but not about humans."

"Full-bloods," Victor mused. "Notice how he hasn't mentioned vampires at all here. Smart of him, the wolves would second-guess the union if they thought vampires were going to be involved."

Phoenix was now chatting with the Gray Lady, the crowd muttering among themselves. Randall noticed that Phoenix kept his distance from all of them, aloof without being obvious about it. Eventually he waved at the gathering to thunderous applause and then stepped down. A few men emerged from the shadows and gathered Phoenix's things, the group walking quickly back toward the road and the cars parked there. The Gray Lady turned to her pack and the half bloods who had joined them. "I think the food is not quite gone," she said with a welcoming smile. "And there are drinks and music yet aplenty. Happy solstice to you all."

"Happy solstice," the crowd returned, clapping, stretching and moving once again. Edwin darted around people to go to Jed and Redford, leaning in to speak with them. Anthony was shortly after, the four of them gathering for a moment before breaking up. Edwin looked slightly rea.s.sured, and Jed had lost the tight look to his face. Apparently they were happy that none of them had bought Phoenix's speech.

"We never did get that food." Randall turned to Victor, giving him a small smile. "I believe we got distracted."

Victor still looked thoughtful, his eyes on the crowd where Phoenix had vanished. Randall's words brought his attention back. At once, that tender expression that had been on Victor's face while they danced made a return. "That we did. And look, I can even see some food on those tables that isn't meat."

Victor stood and held out his hand. Randall took it, and Victor tugged him up with a smile. Such a simple, stupidly domestic action, but it had Randall all but beaming. He took Victor's arm, and they walked to where the food was spread out. They loaded up plates with some beautiful vegetables and thickly crusted bread. Randall didn't even try to resist the delicious looking meat. There were even pies, hugely deep with flaky crust and plump berries. Plates weighed down with food, big cups of what had to be some form of wine in hand, they made their way back to the porch steps of Randall's cabin.