Than nodded, eyes bright. “Brothers.”
Shamrock stepped around them, clapping his hands with exaggerated flourish. “Still pretty, the lot of us.” He ran his hand over his shorn scalp. “Good fucking bone structure. But I still don’t like redheads.”
Than laughed softly. Fly shook his head. Bear gave a small smile that said he recognized the reverence hiding beneath the joke.
Bailee reached for Bear’s hand, her fingers curling into his. The touch grounded the moment. The firelight caught the angle of her cheek, the softness in her smile.
“Our baby SEALs,” she murmured, nudging Bear’s shoulder. He chuckled.
Fly felt the praise settle in him like something earned.
Bear looked from Than to Fly to the rising smoke, then back at Bailee. “They are more than that,” he said. “They are beginning.”
The fire crackled. The smoke climbed toward the stars. The night opened around them like a blessing.
Fly felt it settle inside him: The past was finally released. The future finally real, and family around him, stronger than anything he had ever dared hope for.
Oglala Lakota Nation, Pine Ridge Reservation, Bear’s Family Home, Southwestern South Dakota
Morning rested gently over Pine Ridge, pale and gold, the kind of light that softened the edges of the world and made everything feel suspended. Than stood beside the old SUV with his duffel slung over one shoulder, watching the land breathe under the rising sun. The earth felt familiar beneath his boots. The scent of sage and dust curled in the air, threading through him with memories layered so deep he could taste them.
Today he was leaving home.
Not forever. Not for good. But enough that something in his chest felt tight and unsteady, like a drum pulled too taut.
Fly bounced on the balls of his feet near the hood of the car, red copper hair catching every flash of sunlight, his grin bright enough to mask the nervous energy rolling off him. Shamrock leaned against the passenger door with his arms folded, pretending to be unimpressed, though his eyes followed every movement with the sharp attention of someone watching his brothers take a step that mattered.
Bear stood near the porch with Bailee at his side, the two of them framed by Bear’s family and Bailee’s, a beautiful mingling of blood and chosen bonds. Than’s mother offered him a proud smile that warmed parts of him he never talked about. She’d already hugged him so hard, his chest still felt the weight of her.
Bailee’s grandmother clasped Bear’s shoulder with quiet respect, their families tied now in a way that felt as natural as the wind moving through the prairie grass.
Than swallowed hard.
This land had raised him. This clan had shaped him. This was the ground his ancestors walked, and he was about to step away from it.
Fly bumped his shoulder lightly. “You good?”
Than nodded. “Yes.” His voice carried more steadiness than he felt.
The wind brushed along his jaw like a familiar hand. He lifted his gaze to the sky, wide and endless, the color shifting from gold to soft blue. The spirits felt close this morning. Watching. Not judging. Encouraging.
Bear stepped forward. The man moved with that quiet, grounded presence that always reminded Than of the old stories. Warriors carved from stone and silence. His brother in blood and spirit.
Than straightened when Bear stopped in front of him and Fly.
“Don’t fuck up,” Bear said.
Everyone laughed softly as Than grinned widely. “I’ll do my best.”
Fly nodded. “Copy that, Instructor Locklear. Me, too.”
“I know you will,” Bear murmured. No flourish. No noise. Just the truth.
Than felt his chest tighten. “I will make you all proud,” he replied.
“You already have.” Bear rested a hand at the back of his neck, warm and firm, a gesture that said everything Bear never spoke aloud. “Go learn. Go fight for your future. Come back stronger.”
Bailee stepped beside Bear. Her eyes glistened in the light, a mixture of tenderness and mischief. “We will visit,” she said. “If you two get into trouble, Shamrock will show up with enough chips to make it all better.”
