Page 16 of Emerald Moon (Pitch Mountain Pack #2)

twelve

The approaching full moon triggered a restless humming throughout Jo’s body.

For other wolves it was a good feeling, but for Jo it was a mix of excitement and dread.

They wished they didn’t need the pack’s help to come back, and they also wished they could remember any of the good times after shifting.

Jo knew that there was a point during the full moon when no werewolves maintained their memories of what they did, but most of the pack could remember before and after that point where the wolf completely took over.

They remembered being a pack and running together.

Jo only remembered the fear and pain of coming back.

Jo had already tried lying in bed, watching anime, and agonizing over the feeling while petting Dolly and, when all that failed to work, they went back to the bakery.

Billie buzzed around in the background doing the work of keeping a bakery open with treats in the cases out front.

Jo tried not to watch her work — one, because Billie hated being stared at and, two, watching her made Jo feel weird about their own progress and it was better to focus on their own baking.

Jo piped some Swiss meringue buttercream onto a light purple macaron shell.

The buttercream was just right. The macarons, though better than their last attempt, were still not consistent enough.

It was fine. They could eat the ugliest ones.

The rest were going to come with them to the Crooked Creek Pack’s house.

Krista loved purple. She’d like the color of these, if nothing else.

Jo realized they didn’t know Cass’ favorite color.

Come to think of it, Cass didn’t like sweet things very much, so she probably wouldn’t eat a bunch of macarons. Jo paused, chewing their lip as they thought.

“Hey Billie?”

The response took a moment and all they got was a grunt from their packmate.

“Can I have one of the crusts for the tartlets?”

“Why?”

Jo turned to look at her and found Billie with her arms crossed.

“Just one?”

“Question remains the same.”

“I’m making a tart for someone in the Crooked Creek Pack.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.”

“But you’re already making macarons. Unless you’re going to eat all those and be sick.”

“No! I’m bringing them with us, but this person doesn’t like sweets very much.”

“Is this person the one who came and visited you?”

“Yeah. And?”

Billie cracked a grin. “Sure, you can have a crust. But don’t mess up. You’re not getting another.”

Jo gave her an exaggerated bow in thanks. Billie rolled her eyes and continued piping custard. Jo carefully scooped up one of the small tart crusts and brought it over to their station. While they finished the macarons they would decide exactly what they were going to make for Cass.

Making macarons was soothing. They could tune out the humming in their body and the sounds coming from Billie or the bakery, and create something they could give to the people they cared for most. Baking was special.

Jo felt like it was the one time they could focus.

And, in the end, they had something that was edible, if not always beautiful, and they liked sharing the treats however they looked.

Jo stuck out the tip of their tongue and squeezed the piping bag, filling another macaron. They were vanilla with a hint of lavender, but it really was just a hint. Jo had been worried the floral flavor would take over, and they hadn’t added enough for the flavor to come through.

They lost themselves in the comforting pattern of making macaron shells and filling them until they were surprised to find they had trays of nearly-perfectly piped macarons beside them.

Letting a bit of pride slipe into their heart, Jo found a plastic cake carrier and set the macarons inside using concentric circles and layers.

It wasn’t perfect, but at least they wouldn’t move too much.

They put the tart case on top of them and closed the lid.

“Are you headed out?” Billie asked.

Jo nodded.

“Can I get a macaron before you go?”

Jo beamed. “Yeah, of course!”

Billie walked over and Jo met her in the middle. She opened the cake carrier and let Billie pick one.

“They look nice,” Billie said.

For someone who regularly made perfection for the bakery, Jo took this as high praise. “Thank you,” they said after a beat.

Billie took a bite and added, “They taste good, too. What does Emmaline say about getting these out front? Or Alpha Parisa?”

“I think they’re okay with it, but way in the future. These aren’t up to par with what you and Emmaline bake.”

“They’re closer than you think. You’re on your way.”

Jo thanked her again and, sensing that the conversation was done, headed out the back door.

They stopped to look for Dolly out of habit before remembering she was at home now.

This afternoon before work at the bakery, Jo had let her out of her room to explore.

They walked with her as she sniffed around the upstairs before carefully descending the stairs and poking around the rest of the house.

Jo thought the liveliness of downstairs might frighten her, but instead the cat seemed thrilled to have more people to rub her head against and get pats from.

Jo picked up their pace but was careful not to jostle the macarons.

When they got back to the pack house, they set down the macarons in the dining room and shook a container of Dolly’s treats.

The cat came running to the front of the house, winding between Jo’s legs when she got to them.

Jo doted on the cat and gave her plenty of pats before continuing on their mission to fill the still-empty tart crust for Cass.

They went to the refrigerator and got out the bacon Cass had brought and some of the good cheese — not the stuff from the store, but the good stuff from the farmer’s market.

It was meant for cooking pack meals, but Jo reasoned it’d be alright for them to take enough for one little savory tartlet.

The last ingredient was a shallot, which Jo thought would be less intense than a yellow onion, the only other choice in the kitchen.

Jo’s cooking skills weren’t as good as their baking skills, but in the end, right before the dinner crew had to take over the kitchen, Jo had filled the small tart crust with the cheese and bacon mixture. Jo wasn’t sure if it looked good, but it definitely looked rich. Hopefully Cass would like it.

Jo made it all of a few hours before they decided they couldn’t wait until the full moon feast at the Crooked Creek Pack house to give the savory tart to Cass.

With the tart wrapped in some paper towels, they snuck through the back door of the bakery and took one of the bakery’s nice violet-colored boxes and a white ribbon.

Out on the sidewalk out front of Violet Moon, Jo realized they weren’t sure where Cass was working today.

They sent a quick text to ask and started wandering in the general direction of the butcher shop just in case that’s where she was.

It’d been a while since they just let themselves meander downtown without a dire need for something like supplies for the bakery or chocolate for their brain.

Sometimes it was easy to forget what a beautiful place Hickorywood was.

It was a far cry from the big city where Jo had grown up.

While Hickorywood had grown in popularity over the last decade, it still kept a small town feel, even if it was often filled with tourists drawn to the region for the sights, the breweries, the arts, and all the food they could eat, bakeries included.

The sidewalk beneath their feet was well-worn stone.

When Jo was in a hurry, the uneven pavement annoyed them whenever they stumbled, but that day it felt charming again.

Just like the lush forests that surrounded the small city, the sidewalks on the less busy side-streets were part of what made this place feel like home.

Their phone buzzed in their pocket and Jo carefully held the box in one hand to check it.

I’m just about to leave the butcher shop and go to the florist. I’m working at both today.

Without a break?!

The break is the walk between the two spots.

Well, I have something that will make the walk

a little more of a break, hopefully.

Don’t walk too fast! I’m almost to where you are!

Taking bigger steps than what their legs usually allowed, Jo quickened their pace towards the butcher shop. They’d never been inside, but they’d passed it often enough to remember where it was. The stone sidewalk gave way to more typical concrete as they neared the busier roads.

They turned a corner and saw Cass standing in front of the shop with her hands in her pockets. Even at a distance, Jo could see the curve of her lips tilt upwards.

“Here!” Jo held out the box for Cass to take as soon as they were close enough to her. “Thanks for waiting for me. I hope it will be worth it.”

“What is it?”

“Open the box and see!”

Jo gave her approximately half a second to open the box before explaining, “It’s a tartlet!

A savory one. Remember that bacon you gave me?

I used some of it in this. The rest I ate for breakfast over the past few days, and I didn’t share with anyone, but I’m happy to share some with you since you gave it to me.

It’s got bacon, cheese, and onions – well, shallots, but they’re sort of an onion. You don’t have to eat it now.”

Without a word, Cass lifted the tart from the box and took a huge bite — nearly half the tart in one go.

Jo couldn’t stifle their laughter. “Of course if you want to eat it now, that’s fine by me.” They tried not to watch her chew, but they wanted to search her face for reactions, signs of whether it was delicious or not.