"Yeah, remember that time in Bergen?" Tobi called over his shoulder as he guided Yousuf around the icy patch. "Must have been, what, winter of 1320? We were ten, and that merchant's son dared us to race across the frozen harbor."
"And you face-planted right into a snow bank." Tyr's lips twitched at the memory. "Father was furious when we came home soaked to the bone."
"Worth it though." Tobi grinned. "I won that bet."
"You did not." Tyr crossed his arms. "You fell before reaching the other side."
"But I got up and finished first!"
"After I stopped to help fish you out." Tyr shook his head at Layla. "He conveniently forgets that part of the story."
"Because it's irrelevant to who crossed the line first," Tobi insisted, helping Yousuf gather a few small boxes from the truck.
"We were about ten," Tyr told Layla. "Mother threatened to lock us in our room until spring thaw after that stunt."
Tobi snickered, his expression bright with mischief. "Mother was always threatening to lock us in our room. Remember that time with the baker's chickens?"
"Don't remind me." Tyr winced at the memory. "Though in her defense, we did deserve it that time."
"The baker wasn't happy either." Tobi guided Yousuf around another icy patch. "Especially when his prized rooster ended up on top of the church steeple."
"How did it get up there?" Yousuf's eyes went wide.
"That," Tyr said firmly, "is a story for another time." He could still hear their mother's exasperated lectures aboutresponsibility and proper behavior for merchant's sons. The memory carried a bittersweet ache - she'd died barely two years later, dying in childbirth as so many women did in those days.
Tobi must have caught his shift in mood because he quickly changed the subject. "Hey Yousuf, want to see something cool?" He set down his load of equipment and crouched beside the boy. "Watch this."
With practiced ease, Tobi scooped up a handful of snow, compressing it between his palms. When he opened his hands, he'd shaped the snow into a perfect miniature bird.
"Wow!" Yousuf carefully set down his own box to examine the sculpture. "How did you do that?"
"Centuries of practice." Tobi's grin widened. "Though I'm still not as good as Tyr. He's the real artist."
The tension finally eased from Layla's shoulders as she watched Tobi and Yousuf carefully navigate back around the icy patch, her son's face bright with concentration as he carried his load.
Layla held the front door wide as they carried the last of the equipment inside. The warm air carried the lingering scents of dinner - something with garlic and tomatoes that made Tyr's nose twitch appreciatively, even though he couldn't eat it.
Tyr took in the spacious entryway with its warm amber glow from handcrafted sconces. Family photos in mismatched frames lined the stairwell, capturing generations of the wolf pack in various gatherings. The blend of modern furniture with rustic architectural elements—exposed wooden beams overhead and a massive stone fireplace visible in the adjacent room—spoke to both tradition and practicality.
"Would you like some coffee?" Layla asked hesitantly as they set down their loads. " Beth tells me you can drink that, so I made a fresh pot."
"Oh yeah, please." Tobi's face lit up. "Coffee sounds perfect."
Yousuf's expression crumpled, his earlier excitement vanishing. "But... but I thought vampires only drank blood!" His lower lip trembled slightly as he looked between them. "Isn't that what vampires do?"
"Yousuf!" Layla's cheeks flushed dark red. "That's not polite to ask!"
Tobi couldn't help laughing at the boy's crestfallen expression. "It's alright. And yes, we do drink blood."
Yousuf's eyes grew even wider, practically bouncing in place. "Do you suck their blood from their neck? Like in the movies?"
"Ibni!" Layla covered her face with her hands and let out a mortified moan. "Please, you cannot ask such things!"
Tobi crouched down to Yousuf's level, his expression turning serious as he met the boy's eager gaze. "Actually, that's a very good question. And you deserve an honest answer." He glanced up at Layla apologetically before continuing. "We do sometimes drink from the neck, but only with someone we're in a relationship with - someone we care about deeply and trust completely."
"Otherwise," Tobi held up his wrist, tapping the veins visible beneath his fair skin, "we take a polite sip from here. It's much more proper, like having tea with a friend instead of a romantic dinner."
Tyr watched his brother handle the delicate subject with surprising grace. Trust Tobi to find the perfect way to explain vampire feeding habits to a curious child while keeping things both honest and appropriate.
