Emma.
The garden was alive with sounds of people cheering and clapping, clearly entertained by the performers who danced like they were being paid to do so.
Men who performed to impress me. But they were all performers. To me, that’s all they would ever be. Just performers. None piqued my interest, none meant anything. I wasn’t here to find a mate.
I sat on the wooden platform, staring at the spectacle before me. I could see how the girls giggled and probably thought that I was lucky to have these men plead for my hand. All eight of them stood in a large arc, each carrying a gift.
This was custom. A tradition of the Crescent Pack and I didn't have to be told that. The dance, the mannerism, it was all so ancient that even if the pack had long developed and modernized, they still held o
