I run deeper, stumbling over hidden roots, my lungs burning with the intake of frozen air.
I’m coming. I’m coming.
And then I see him.
He’s standing with his head bowed at the edge of a clearing. His white fur is matted, streaked with something shiny and dark. His antlers catch the eerie glow of the moon.
Relief crashes through me.
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.
“Andrik!”
He turns.
His familiar ice-blue eyes find mine, and for a split second, something flickers behind them. Surprise? Guilt? Then it’s gone, smoothed over by his usual warmth.
“Lumi,” His voice is a rough, low rumble. “Gods, Lumi—you shouldn’t have come.”
I sway forward, reaching for him with shaking hands. “I heard you scream. I thought—are you hurt? What happened?”
He catches my wrist gently, steadying me.
“I’m alright. Just—” He glances over his shoulder into the blackness of the woods. “It’s not safe. He’s been circling the cabin, testing the wards. I tracked him all day. We need to get you somewhere secure.”
The cabin?—”
“No.” His grip tightens slightly. “The cabin is compromised.”
My stomach drops. “Then where?—”
“I was planning on surprising you later, once the danger had passed.” He hesitates, his jaw tightens. “I have a place nearby.
I blink up at him, confused. “A place?”
He nods. “I didn’t want to tell you until it was ready. I wanted you to have somewhere that felt like home. Not just my cabin. Somewhere that was yours.”
My chest squeezes.
“Andrik—”
“Please,” he murmurs. “Let me get you there. Let me know you’re safe so I can end this.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Relief floods his features, and he pulls me closer, wrapping one arm around my shoulders.
“Stay close to me,” he murmurs against my hair. “Don’t let go.”
We walk for what feels like miles, my side pressed against his. The cottage appears through the trees—it’s a vision—like something off a Christmas card.
It’s small, nestled in a clearing surrounded by birch and snowdrops. Warm amber light spills from the windows, and the scent of woodsmoke fills the air.
“You did this?” I breathe, my heart aching.
“For you.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “So you wouldn’t feel so far from everything you lost.”
He leads me inside, and my breath hitches. The bed is piled with soft linens, dried petals scattered across the pillows. Candles flicker on every surface, and on the table sits the exact brand of my favorite honey.
