Kalyndi
Life settled into a new rhythm with Selene living in our cottage. Each morning, I'd wake to find her already preparing breakfast, humming softly as she moved around the kitchen. Her presence transformed the space from a prison into something that almost felt like home.
"You're up early," I said, joining her in the kitchen as dawn light filtered through the windows.
"Couldn't sleep," she admitted, sliding a plate of sliced fruits toward me. "Still getting used to the sounds here. The forest is... different at night."
I understood what she meant. The calls of unfamiliar creatures, the rustling in the underbrush, all reminders we lived on the boundary between human and monster territories.
"You'll adjust," I assured her, though I wasn't entirely convinced myself. Three weeks had passed since Redmon's challenge, and while Selene was safe, I still startled at shadows.
The door to the cottage opened, and Redmon ducked inside, his big frame making the doorway seem small. Though hiswounds from the challenge had mostly healed, he still moved with a slight stiffness that betrayed lingering pain.
"Morning," he rumbled, nodding to us both.
Selene smiled tentatively. "I made tea. The kind with mint you said you liked."
My sister, who once trembled at the mere mention of monsters, now offered one breakfast. And Redmon, who could have been so much worse than he was, accepted her gesture with genuine appreciation.
"Thank you," he said, taking the oversized mug she offered. His eyes shifted to me. "How are your plants today?"
It had become our morning ritual, this simple question that acknowledged my work, my passion.
"The feverfew is finally blooming," I replied. "I should be able to harvest it by week's end."
He nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Good."
After breakfast, I taught Redmon about human healing methods. It had started as a way to thank him for saving Selene, but had somehow evolved into a daily practice.
We sat in the greenhouse, surrounded by the herbs I'd carefully cultivated. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting dappled patterns across Redmon's russet fur.
"This is comfrey," I explained, holding up a plant with broad, fuzzy leaves. "We use it to heal bone breaks and deep tissue damage."
Redmon's massive fingers, surprisingly delicate when he chose, brushed against the leaf. "How?"
"We make a poultice by crushing the leaves and roots, then apply it directly to the injury." I demonstrated, grinding some in my mortar. "It reduces inflammation and speeds healing."
He watched intently, following every movement of my hands. "Like your treatment for my wounds after the challenge."
"Similar, yes. Though that was a more complex blend."
"Show me," he said simply.
I hesitated only briefly before reaching for his arm, guiding his hand to the mortar. "You need to apply firm pressure, but not so much that you destroy the cell structures."
His hand engulfed mine as I showed him the proper technique. The warmth of his palm against my skin sent an unexpected shiver up my spine.
"Like this?" he asked, his voice dropping to a lower register.
"Yes," I managed, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting. "Exactly like that."
As I guided him through preparing the poultice, I found myself surprised by his questions as thoughtful, specific inquiries that revealed prior knowledge.
"Why add yarrow?" he asked as I incorporated the feathery leaves. "Doesn't it thin the blood?"
I blinked, taken aback. "Yes, but in small quantities, it actually helps circulation to the injured area. How did you know that?"
He shrugged, those massive shoulders rising and falling. "I read."
