“Ritual”

Words: 174

The game could not begin without the ritual.

It started with Wildwing taking off the Mask and laying it on the net’s top. Then, the leader glided to a stop at the hash marks and waited for Nosedive, who chose to stand by him rather than on the blue line with their teammates. The decision had been made their very first game. Nosedive had wished to be by his brother and not be separated from him again, and the feeling had been shared wholly by Wildwing. They had been separated in the camps, and if they needn’t be again, even just for the National Anthem, then both brothers didn’t want to be.

When the song ended, Nosedive slapped his stick blade against Wildwing’s pads three times, then waited to strap on his helmet until his big brother tasseled his hair.

Wildwing smiled. “Good luck, baby bro.”

Nosedive returned it. “Back at you, bro.”

Then, with a punch of their fists, Wildwing retreated toward the goal, Nosedive toward center ice.

And the game could begin.