Carrying her like this makes something primal and possessive sing through my veins. She is mine to protect. Mine to carry. Mine.
I push harder, faster, eating up the distance. What would have been hours of walking becomes minutes of running. The forest rushes by in shades of green and brown, and all I can focus on is the feeling of her on my back, the way she fits perfectly against me even in this form.
Thirty minutes. That’s all it takes before the trees begin to thin and I can smell the human town ahead—cooking fires, fresh pastries, the earthy scent of construction and preparations.
I slow as we approach the edge of the forest, my pace dropping to a trot, then a walk. When we’re still far enough in the cover of the trees yet close enough to see the town, I stop and lower myself to the ground.
Daciana slides off smoothly. “That was fast.”
I shift back, the transformation rippling through me until I’m standing before her in human form again. “Worth letting me carry you?”
“I suppose.” But she’s smiling as she says it, reaching up to brush a leaf from my hair. “Though I could have kept up.”
“I know.” I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “But I wanted to.”
She studies my face for a moment, a warm look in her eyes. I take her hand and lead her forward, out of the tree line. Thehuman town spreads before us, and I can see workers setting up stalls and vendors arranging their wares.
“They’re getting ready for something,” Daciana observes.
“A festival. It opens tonight.” I let the stealth spell drop completely as we step into the street. The magic releases with a soft sigh, and suddenly, we’re just two people among the busy crowd. “But for now, we can explore.”
I’ve never been to this side of the human town, and from the way Daciana’s eyes widen, neither has she.
“I haven’t explored this area,” I admit, looking around. “But we can do it together.”
Her hand tightens in mine. “I’d like that.”
We wander through the streets, watching the town come alive. Workers call to each other, hammering and sawing. The smell of baking bread drifts from a nearby shop, and I pull Daciana toward it.
“Try this,” I say after purchasing two still-warm rolls from the baker.
She takes a bite and closes her eyes. “Oh, this is good.”
We continue walking as we finish our bread. I buy a couple of sticks of candied fruit from a vendor who is setting up his stall early, and Daciana grins at me.
“You’re going to spoil me.”
“That’s the plan.”
We explore the narrow streets, discovering small shops tucked into corners—a bookshop where Daciana spends twenty minutes browsing, a curiosity shop filled with human trinkets and oddities, a textile merchant with bolts of colorful fabric.
At a flower stall, I buy a crown woven from white and yellow blooms, which I place carefully on Daciana’s head.
“How do I look?” she asks, striking a dramatic pose.
“Beautiful,” I say honestly.
She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush pink.
We find another small bakery and buy meat pies, enjoying them as we continue on our way. Daciana asks questions about everything—why the humans build their houses this way, what that symbol means on a door, how they make the glass for the windows. I answer what I can and make up what I don’t know. She laughs at my creative explanations.
The sun climbs higher, and we eventually find ourselves in a quieter part of town where a wild garden grows—a space that seems half-cultivated, half-forgotten, with wildflowers blooming in chaotic patches.
“Here,” I say, guiding Daciana to a massive oak tree that provides shade from the afternoon sun.
She sits beneath it, and before I can arrange myself, she pats her lap.
“Come here.”
