I adjust my stance, hyperaware of his ice-blue eyes tracking every movement. The training provides a legitimate excuse for his attention, but the intensity of his focus carries heat that has nothing to do with combat instruction and everything to do with the charged moment we almost shared beside the festival fire.
"Better," he says, voice carrying approval that makes warmth climb my neck. "Now show me how you'd counter a grab from behind."
The exercise requires him to approach from my blind side, massive arms encircling my smaller frame in demonstration of restraint techniques. His body heat radiates through the layers of winter clothing, solid presence that should feel threatening but instead registers as protection against a hostile world.
"Remember what Falla taught you about pressure points," he murmurs near my ear, breath stirring loose strands of hair that escaped my braid.
I execute the counter-move with growing confidence, using leverage rather than strength to break free of his hold. The success draws a pleased rumble from his chest, sound that vibrates against my back and makes my pulse quicken in ways that have nothing to do with combat adrenaline.
"Good." His hands linger on my shoulders after the exercise concludes, touch that burns through fabric despite the casual nature of the contact. "You're learning to trust your instincts instead of overthinking every response."
Our eyes meet across the small space between us, recognition of progress that extends beyond fighting techniques into territory neither of us examines directly. His thumb traces along my collarbone with unconscious tenderness, callused skin rough against the sensitive hollow of my throat.
"Kai!" Ursik's voice booms across the clearing with characteristic volume. "Stop making eyes at your bride and come settle this argument!"
We spring apart with guilty speed, heat climbing my cheeks as Kai's best friend approaches with the broad grin of someone who enjoys causing embarrassment. Falla follows several paces behind, medical supplies slung across his shoulder andexpression carrying dry amusement at Ursik's complete lack of subtlety.
"What argument?" Kai asks with careful neutrality that doesn't quite hide his irritation at the interruption.
"Falla says my stitching technique needs work," Ursik explains with wounded pride. "But these field repairs hold together perfectly well."
"Your stitching looks like a child's first attempt at sewing," Falla replies matter-of-factly. "Functional doesn't mean adequate when dealing with serious wounds."
"It kept Jorik's leg attached after that border skirmish."
"Barely. And he's got a scar that looks like a lightning bolt because you can't maintain consistent spacing."
Their banter draws reluctant laughter despite the interruption to training time. Watching clan members interact reveals layers of relationship and history that formal introductions can't capture—the affectionate mockery between friends, professional pride that transcends personal ego, care disguised as criticism.
"Show me," Kai says with resigned tolerance. "But make it quick. Saela needs to practice counters for wrist grabs."
The next hour passes in companionable instruction as Falla demonstrates proper suturing techniques while Ursik protests the necessity of perfect form in battlefield conditions. I find myself included in conversations about medical procedures and combat experience, treated as someone whose opinion carries weight rather than a burden requiring constant supervision.
The casual acceptance makes something warm settle in my chest, recognition of belonging that I've been afraid to acknowledge directly. These people have become more than temporary shelter providers. They've become... family, in ways I never expected to experience again.
"Little Bird's getting that look," Ursik observes when I smile at one of Falla's particularly cutting observations about field medicine standards.
"What look?" I ask, though heat climbs my neck at being caught in unguarded emotion.
"The one that says she's starting to like us despite better judgment."
His teasing carries genuine affection rather than mockery, acceptance of someone who belongs here permanently rather than visitor requiring careful navigation. The informal nickname has evolved from gentle intimidation into protective fondness, claim of kinship that makes isolation feel like a distant memory.
"Maybe," I admit, unable to suppress the smile his words draw.
"Good," Falla says with characteristic bluntness. "Place needs more people with sense. Balance out all the warriors who think volume solves every problem."
"I don't solve problems with volume," Ursik protests loudly, proving Falla's point with perfect timing.
Their exchange dissolves into familiar banter while Kai and I continue practicing defensive techniques. His patient instruction and growing confidence in my abilities creates a safe space for mistakes and questions, learning environment that feels supportive rather than judgmental.
When the sun reaches its midday position, we gather our equipment and head toward the main settlement for the noon meal. The walk passes in comfortable conversation about training progress and clan dynamics, topics that would have felt foreign weeks ago but now occupy natural space in daily routine.
Shae meets us at the communal cooking area with a warm smile and knowing look that suggests she's been monitoring our developing relationship with maternal satisfaction. Her deepgreen skin glows with health despite winter cold, long black hair braided with colored ribbons that catch afternoon light.
"How's the combat training progressing?" she asks while ladling stew into wooden bowls.
"Saela's natural instincts are good," Kai reports with pride that makes warmth flutter in my chest. "She just needed confidence to trust her reactions instead of overthinking responses."
