Four

“It’s your turn, Rigan.”

Morrigan turns her head at the sound of her nickname, confused. She’s sitting on the floor of Idris and Jasira’s living room, taking in the sight of the sunlight streaming through the windows. The two had invited her over for breakfast, and so after making a meal for Oskar and Anders, Morrigan made her way to their cabin. After eating, Jasira was braiding her mate and childrens hair.

“You don’t expect to train with the Royal Guard with your hair down, do you?” Jasira questions. She motions to a cushion placed on the floor in front of her. “It’s your turn, come here.”

Hesitantly, Morrigan rises and makes her way over to her aunt. She closes her eyes as Jasira begins her magic, gently running her fingers through Morrigan’s hair and brushing it with an ivory comb. The care that she passes through her hands is very intentional, and it’s a sense of love that Morrigan can’t remember ever receiving. 

Oskar never let anyone braid her hair before, or teach her how to braid. She isn’t sure why Jasira is breaking that rule now. Amira taught her to braid in secret, but Morrigan never felt very confident in braiding her own hair. Hair is a very personal part of the body, and so allowing one to touch it, and treating it so delicately, is the biggest act of trust and love one can offer. Before battle, warriors will have their loved ones braid their hair into tight buns to keep it safe. 

The moment is over far too soon, Jasira tying the bun in place before examining her work. 

“Go look at yourself in the mirror, Rigan,” she prompts.

Morrigan stands up and makes her way to a small mirror on the wall. Her eyes widen as she sees herself in the mirror, turning her head to see the intricate details of the bun. She’s never felt so beautiful before. 

She turns and bows to Jasira.

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

Jasira stands gracefully and approaches her niece. She wraps her arms around the girl, pulling her against her chest. Morrigan slowly wraps her arms around her in return, not used to such physical contact. 

“No need to thank me, dear.”

Morrigan isn’t going to take this braid until she has to. 

- - - - -

The next day, the Royal Guard arrive. 

Morrigan is in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when a group of children run up the street shouting. Her heartbeat quickens. She sets the cleaning supplies in her hands down and makes a break for the front door. 

The door flies open to reveal pack members gathering on the sides of the street, anxiously looking down the mountain. A group of members have been working to clear the last bit of snow from the path, and a group of kids must have been waiting at the edge of the street, waiting for the first sight of the kingdom's warriors. While the Royal Guard visits packs for warriors every summer, they only come to the Summit Keepers once every ten years due to how difficult the journey is. Morrigan notices the Alpha, Luna, and their son push through the crowd. 

Morrigan’s eyes widen as red and gold flags rise over the far away treetops and rhythmic marching and chanting can be heard. As they get closer, she can make out the fang insignia on the flags. She counts twenty-one warriors–four columns with five per row, and presumably a leader in the front. 

Once the Guard passes and she snaps out of her trance, Morrigan throws her boots on and rushes outside, fighting her way through the crowd towards The Commons. 

In a single movement, the march comes to a halt and the warriors bow to the Alpha and Luna, to which they bow in return. A few words are exchanged, but Morrigan doesn’t hear them. She’s too engrossed in the red and gold uniforms and battle scars that cover the warriors.

Idris, who had been standing near the Alpha to greet the Guard, notices Morrigan watching from the side and approaches her. 

“Training starts at dawn tomorrow,” he informs her.

Morrigan nods. She’s antsy to get started, but the Guard must be tired from their journey up the mountain. She bows her head to Idris, remembering that she needs to get back to cleaning.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she says.

He gives her a nod before she begins running in the other direction, and though she doesn’t see it, a small smile graces his lips.

Morrigan cleans faster than she ever has before, though still doing an adequate job. Like most of the younger pack members, she’s eager to speak to the Guard and ask about the outside world. With the path down the mountain being blocked by snow for more than half the year and no other way to access the pack, there isn’t much traveling for the Summit Keepers, and the Royal Guard only visit every decade, meaning the last time they had visited the pack Morrigan was only eight years old. There’s a lot of pups in the pack who have never even seen people from outside the pack before.

When Morrigan finally does finish cleaning, she finds that the crowd of pups near the tents are still there. With so much to hear and learn about, she isn’t surprised, and she’s able to take a seat in the grass behind a group of pups that have created a semi-circle around a particular tent.