Page 8 of Banished From the Pack

“She does seem a bit… Untamed.” The male strokes his chin with his thumb and forefinger, appearing thoughtful. “Mademoiselle, forgive me.”

He extends his hand to me. I stare at it. I don’t know who Mademoiselle is, or why he’s holding out a hand like he’ll help me up when I’m standing right in front of him.

Ama chuckles. “He’s making a gesture of friendship, dumbass. Take his hand and shake it.”

My brow furrows. “Why?”

Ama huffs out a sigh, wraps her fingers around the man’s hand, and gives it a small shake. “Lewis, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Ama.” She turns toward me, her lips pressed together in a flat line. “That’s how we greet people outside the swamp. Think you can manage that?”

I try it, taking Lewis’s warm hand and moving it up and down. I’ve never touched a male before, but his hand feels the same as mine or Mama’s, only softer. It feels warm and nice enveloping mine, but I pull away quickly. Mama said not to trust people outside our family.

“Say what I said, but use your name instead of mine,” Ama says to me before meeting Lewis’s gaze. “I have to spell out the most ridiculous things to her. I thought I was getting his mate, not babysitting an overgrown toddler.”

“She seems a bit feral,” Lewis says, gazing at me with soft eyes. “But she’s not so bad.”

We exchange names the way Ama did. “I’m Luna,” I say when it’s my turn. “You don’t seem so bad, either.”

Lewis throws back his head and lets out a deep, coyote-like laugh. “That’s wonderful. I think I’m going to like you, Luna.”

Then, he turns away from me and extends his hand again, only more from his side than straight on.

“What do I do this time?” I ask.

“You take it—but only if you’re willing—and we proceed to my cave of mysteries.” A smile spreads across his face and up into his dark, sparkling eyes.

Behind him, Ama glowers.

I went in a cave with Mama once, and it wasn’t scary. I avoid Lewis’s hand but follow him when he gestures toward a back room. Hardly the kind of shelter I expected, I’m confronted with a room where pieces of fabric in various colors are draped over chairs scattered around the area and a huge mirror. A table in front of the mirror is covered with tiny pots of color and sticks with soft-looking furry ends. I reach out a fingertip and stroke the end of one of the sticks.

“She probably doesn’t know what that is,” Ama says with a sneer.

Lewis picks up one of the stick-things and explains, “This is a makeup brush. And this is a hairbrush. We’re going to use it on your abundant tresses once you’ve taken a shower.” He waves a piece of wood with boar bristles poking out of it.

“A shower? Like rain?” I ask, dizzy from all the new information.

“Sort of.”

I pick up a jar with blackish goo inside from a rack next to the table. “What’s this?”

“This is hair dye,” Lewis says, grabbing the jar and replacing it on the rack. “Some people like to use it to turn their hair different colors. We’ll not be doing that to you today.”

“Why not?” I ask, wondering what different colors of hair I could have. I never much thought about my hair because I never knew I could change it. Looking around at all the colors of fabric in the room, I think of all the colors in the world that my hair could be. Blood red, or sunset orange, or pink as my tongue; blue as twilight or green as a coiled fern.

Ama scoffs. “Let’s not make ourselves more of a freak than we already are.”

Lewis grabs my shoulders, pivots me around, and marches me toward the corner. He urges me inside an outhouse-sized room with golden-green walls like dragonfly wings that smells damp, like the bog. Only this dampness smells sweet, like springtime flowers. Metal things protrude from the wall. Lewis twists one of them, and water pours from another metal device on the ceiling. “Strip out of these rags and step under the water. You can use any of those bottles…” He points to several items on the floor. “And wash your hair and your body thoroughly. Got it?”

I nod, wondering how to use the bottles. Of course Mama and I washed ourselves. Sometimes we stood in the rain, especially in summer when it was hot out and the rain chased off the bugs for a few minutes. In winter, we collected rainwater and heated it over the fire to have a warm bath, standing outside and rubbing ourselves with a wet rag that we dipped into the water to rinse. I decide this isn’t so different, except the rain comes from the wall and the bottles must be used to squirt more water on myself.

“We’ll be right here. Holler when you’re done.” Lewis nods and backs away, shutting the door behind him.

I’d like to go check on Mama, but there are no windows to escape. Since I’m curious about the shower, I peel off the moss and rags and step under the falling water. A gasp of pleasure escapes my lips. It’s warm, and it covers my whole body at once instead of just a bit dribbling from a rag while I stand outside, hurrying to clean myself before I freeze my buns off. This… This is wow.

Dirty water streams down my body, heading toward holes in a metal grate on the floor. I pick up a bottle, but it’s not empty, so I can’t fill it with water. I open it, and the smell of flowers comes out. I tip it up and pour some of the contents into my hand, using it to wash my hair and body thoroughly, as Lewis instructed.

When finished, I twist the metal thing, and the water stops. Soaking wet and feeling amazed, I open the door.

Lewis’s jaw drops when he sees me. He grabs a thick sheet of fabric and hurries toward me. “Let’s get you a towel, honey. Here you go. Dry yourself off and put on this robe.”