The chocolate preparation turns out to involve grinding cacao beans into powder, mixing it with honey and spices, then forming the mixture into small cakes that will be distributed during the feast. The work requires patience and attention to detail, but nothing particularly complex.
Sera joins us partway through the process, her recovered strength allowing her to contribute meaningfully to community activities. She works with quiet efficiency, her beautiful green eyes tracking the activity around us with the careful attention of someone still assessing her place in group dynamics.
"This is generous," she says as we shape chocolate cakes with wooden molds. "Sharing festival celebration with outsiders."
"You're not really outsiders anymore," Shae replies matter-of-factly. "Not once the clan decides to keep you."
The casual confidence of her statement makes something warm settle in my chest. Belonging isn't something I've experienced often enough to recognize easily, but the feeling grows stronger each day as clan members include me in conversations and activities without the careful distance that marks temporary guests.
"Plus," Falla adds from the neighboring cooking station, "we need all the help we can get if we want this feast edible. Half these warriors couldn't cook meat properly if their lives depended on it."
"I heard that," Ursik calls cheerfully.
"Good. Maybe it'll motivate you to pay attention to what you're doing."
Their exchange draws laughter from the surrounding workers, myself included. The easy humor and mutual affection that characterizes Frostfang social interactions makes isolation feel like a distant memory rather than an ongoing reality.
I'm pressing chocolate mixture into molds when movement in my peripheral vision draws attention toward the main fire. Kai has finished with his cooking responsibilities and now stands with arms crossed, watching the general festival preparations with the alert expression of someone monitoring multiple variables simultaneously.
But his ice-blue eyes aren't tracking potential problems or security concerns. They're focused on me with an intensity that makes heat climb my neck despite the cold air. His gaze carries warmth that contradicts the careful emotional distance he usually maintains, unguarded attention that suggests feelings he's been working hard to conceal.
The moment our eyes meet, his expression shifts back into neutral territory, but not quickly enough to hide what I glimpsed underneath. Whatever walls he's built to protect himself from attachment aren't as solid as they appear from the outside.
The realization makes my pulse quicken with nervous energy that has nothing to do with festival anxiety and everything to do with the dangerous possibility that Ursik was right about changed dynamics and developing feelings.
"Kai's been watching you work," Shae observes quietly, her tone carrying gentle amusement rather than judgment.
"He's just making sure I don't mess up the chocolate," I reply, aiming for casual dismissal and probably achieving obvious deflection instead.
"Right." Her smile suggests complete disbelief in my explanation. "Because chocolate preparation requires constant security monitoring."
Before I can formulate a response that doesn't involve admitting to noticing Kai's attention, Drogath claps his hands with dramatic authority that commands immediate focus from everyone within hearing range.
"The sun approaches its ceremonial position!" he announces. "We must begin the sacred feast arrangement according to proper Valentine tradition!"
The next hour passes in organized chaos as tables are arranged, food distributed, and seating assigned according to some complex social hierarchy that I don't fully understand but try to navigate without causing offense. The chocolate cakes we prepared occupy places of honor at each table, their humble appearance elevated to religious significance by Drogath's elaborate presentation.
Kai ends up seated across from me at the high table, close enough that I can see the tiny chips in his tusks and the way his massive hands handle eating utensils with surprising delicacy. His presence fills the space even in relaxed posture, the controlled strength of someone who's learned to modulate his physical impact on smaller people and fragile objects.
"The sacred feast begins!" Drogath raises his cup with ceremonial gravity. "We honor Cupid the Warrior, whose arrows choose the strongest bonds! We celebrate the blood spilled in devotion, the battles fought together, the strength found in unity!"
The toast receives enthusiastic response from the gathered clan, voices raised in approval of sentiments that manage to be both touching and completely wrong in their historical context. I lift my own cup, caught up in the genuine emotion underlying the misunderstood traditions.
The food proves better than expected—properly cooked meat, root vegetables seasoned with wild herbs, bread that tastes of hearth smoke and careful preparation. Conversation flows around the tables with the relaxed energy of people celebrating survival and community despite harsh circumstances.
"This chocolate tastes like warrior fuel," Ursik declares after sampling one of our preparations. "I feel ready to conquer neighboring territories."
"That's probably the honey talking," Falla replies dryly. "Sugar makes you excitable."
"Everything makes him excitable," Kai observes, his deep voice carrying fond tolerance. "Remember last winter when he decided to arm-wrestle the entire settlement?"
"I won most of those matches," Ursik protests.
"You also couldn't lift your arms for three days afterward."
The gentle mockery draws laughter from nearby clan members, myself included. Watching Kai interact with friends reveals layers of personality that formal politeness had kept hidden—dry humor, genuine affection, the kind of relaxed companionship that comes from years of shared experience.
He catches me smiling at his commentary and returns the expression with warmth that makes my chest flutter in dangerous ways. For a moment, the careful distance we've maintained dissolves into something more honest, more connected.
