"I'll try not to fail."
That almost earns a smile. Then he turns, vanishing into the trees as silently as he appeared.
When I step back inside, I warm myself by the fire. A few minutes later, Thane comes in through the side door, snow dusting his hair, eyes bright gold in the dim light. He stops when he sees me. His eyes flick down to the boots I’m still wearing.
"You went outside." Not a question.
Busted."Only for a minute. But I met Garruk."
His shoulders tense. "He didn't frighten you?"
"No. He warned me about the storm."
Thane exhales, some of the tension draining. "He means well. He's... protective."
"Of you?"
"Of all of us." His voice drops. "He still thinks our peace is fragile. He's not wrong. There are many who would wish us harm."
I study him—the broad shoulders, the snow melting on his collar, the tension that never quite leaves. "Are you mad at me for going outside?”
His gaze snaps to mine. "I am not angry. But Garruk is right; another storm is coming. So, please stay inside. You shouldn't be out there alone. Not yet."
"Not yet," I echo softly. "So... someday?"
He hesitates, and I see something flicker in his eyes—hope, fear, both tangled. "Maybe. If you learn to read the mountain, to adapt to the weather. If you decide to stay."
The word settles between us like an ember refusing to die. "Stay?"
He steps closer, close enough that his heat drowns the chill still clinging to my skin. "This isn't your world, Lila. But it could be."
For one breathless, impossible heartbeat, I realize I want it to be.
I can’t explain it. Maybe I’m drawn to him because he rescued me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been dreaming of a hero… one who ismorethan human… my whole life. Whatever the reason, it’s crystal clear to me that what I want—all I want—is Thane.
I open my mouth to tell him that, but he’s already turned his back to me, busying himself with chores.
Chapter 4
Thane
Themountainchangesmoodsfaster than any creature I've known.
By dusk the blue sky's gone gray, the air thick with the promise of snow. Wind claws at the shutters, trying to get in. Inside, the fire burns low and gold, throwing shadows that climb the walls. She sits in front of it, curled in one of my furs, hair loose, eyes fixed on the flames.
I shouldn't be this close.
But every instinct wants her nearer. Wants her safe. Wants her to bemine.
I spent most of the day outside, away from her, only coming in to prepare meals for her. I made all my favorites for her—roasted hare, venison steak and wild mushrooms, sweet mountain berries—and she seemed to enjoy them all. My human has a hearty appetite.
I set down the axe I've been pretending to sharpen. "You should rest."
She glances back, half-smiling. "Every time you tell me to rest, you end up pacing all night. Doesn't seem fair."
The sound that escapes me is half-laugh, half-growl. "You notice too much."
"I'm a writer. Noticing is my job."
