Holy crap, that's a lot of wolves, I thought as I entered what could only be described as an entertainment room. I'd followed my ears and nose to the basement, which wasn't really a basement, per se. Only the half of the lowermost floor was built into the hill upon which the house sat. The far wall was mostly a huge flat screen TV. Underneath the screen was a media center full of movies and video games and their consoles. The thickly carpeted floor was terraced to allow for more seating than would normally be feasible, and most of those seats were occupied.
Somewhere underneath a mound of pizza boxes I assumed there was a large, low table. The only problem was that the food was up front and center. This was worse than sitting in the back of class and then having to get up to give a report. Someone paused the football game when I walked in and everyone turned to look at me. I suddenly empathized with the rabbit I'd hunted the only time I'd run on four legs, which only reinforced the junior high flashbacks.
"Hi, my name's Ellie and I'm a werewolf. I've been fur-free for a week now," I said solemnly with a little wave. Chuckles cut through the expectant tension, a few called out in unison the requisite, "Hi, Ellie."
Mickayla waved me over to where she and Matt were sitting near the back. I took the armchair next to their loveseat and someone started the game up again. She handed me a plate piled high with pizza. "I grabbed you one of everything so you could avoid the walk of the shame." She cocked her head to indicate the pathway to the front before pointing out the several cans of soda on a low table between our seats.
"Thanks," I said with genuine gratitude as I shifted the piece of Hawaiian to the bottom of the stack before it could contaminate anything else. Fruit does not belong on pizza.
"Welcome to a bi-weekly ritual that lasts from September to January," she said dryly. "That's twice a week, not once every two weeks. Normally I'd leave them to it, but I couldn't just throw you to the wolves."
I snorted at the pun. "My family worships at the altar of the pigskin. Heck, I was a cheerleader in high school."
"Still got the outfit?" asked a guy in front of us. In unison, Mickayla, Matt, and his neighbours on either side hit him with some pretty good whacks upside the heat and elbows in the ribs before I could even arch an eyebrow.
"I think so, but I'm afraid it won't fit you. You're a little too big in the hips," I said sweetly.
Damn, I'd forgotten the pull of an unmated female. When Jim made his crack, I wanted to teach him some manners in front of everyone. It would have been overkill after the others, and Ellie's barb, but the urge was still there.
Privately, I agreed with the females, if it wasn't such a strong bonding activity for the pack, as well as a safe pressure valve for some of their aggression, I'd rather be doing nearly anything else. But either Tom, Alan and Matt, or I had to be there in case the things escalated beyond smack talk.
Now that she washed the residue of her trip, her signature scent stood out amidst the pizza and pack members. If anything, it was more noticeable because she didn't smell like pack. Yet. The hints of sunshine and cedar seemed to be a part of her instead of remnants of her time in the mountains. There was no sign of the fear that had filled her so recently, despite the occasional lewd comments, which she deflected or ignored with aplomb. I was pleased to note that when one of them tried to cross her lines, she turned her sharp tongue on the offender.
I was disappointed when she retired early for the night, even though she had deep circles under her eyes. Watching the submissive verbally hold her own against the men was more entertaining than the game.