Chapter 5: The Stand-In Beard

Petra's beard was a black costume beard on a loop of elastic, and it covered her face from the nose to the collarbone.

"It itches," she said.

"Soren has a beard," I said. "It will itch for you the same."

"I don't think he's itched in years."

We were crossing the lawn to the guest cabin at four o'clock, as scheduled.

Petra wore a green canvas coat from the lodge lost-and-found, which came down to her knees.

I carried the clipboard.

Soren was on the porch of the guest cabin, splitting kindling with a hatchet.

He saw us coming.

Then he did the first fast thing I had seen him do.

He walked to his truck, took a spiral notebook off the dashboard and put it in the glovebox.

He shut the glovebox and came back to the porch.

"Hello," he said.

"You're late for the Courtesy Hour rehearsal."

"I said I wouldn't be here," he said.

"You're here."

"I live here for twelve days. It's called the Sitting." He set down the hatchet. "Who is that?"

"I'm you," said Petra, from inside the beard.

Soren looked at her for what felt like a long time.

"I don't think I'm that short," he said.

"I'm standing on a log."

She was.

She had been standing on a log since we left the lawn.

I explained it to him the way I'd explained it to Nils.

After a public rejection, any unmated Alpha in the hall can make a Round.

A Round has three approaches: the Look, the Gift and the Word.

The one being courted may take or decline each.

"I've never made one," Soren said.

"That's why we practice."

"I'd rather do it once," he said. "Sincerely."

"Sincerely is fine. Once is how a loaf ends up in an Alpha's boot."

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