We both watch as she approaches the other kids, and without missing a beat, a little girl pauses and meets her halfway. They look at each other, then the girl sticks out a yellow glow stick in offering with a grin. When Astrid accepts it and waves it around, watching how the bright color streaks in the dim light, they both giggle before joining the others.
Warmth stirs in my chest at the sight of the little one running and playing tag, looking as carefree as usual, but this time, not in isolation.
Glancing at Lila, I catch the subtle flood of tears in her eyes, along with her soft smile as she takes in the rare scene.
Something dislodges in my heart, and I soften.
“I never wanted to keep her away from the other kids,” Lila admits quietly as she rubs beneath her eye subtly before the tears can slip. “But I was afraid they’d see…”
Well aware of what she means, I return my hand to her back and gently brush my thumb over the fabric of her dress. “You’re not wrong for being concerned.”
“I just… I didn’t want her to grow up as I did, but I’ve sheltered her all the same.”
“You did what you felt was right,” I offer gently. “… But maybe there will come a time when she won’t need to be kept from the others.”
Something close to hope reflects in her eyes, but that slowly fizzles out right after. “If only.”
Seeing her so disillusioned by the pack and our customs turns my stomach, and it makes me want to prove otherwise. But as things currently stand, I don’t know how we can achieve that.
For the time being, nobody can know about Astrid’s powers. It would cause an uproar, especially with the more traditional members.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but keeping her on the outside because of something she can’t change isn’t right, and I know it.
Before I can even attempt to make Lila feel better about it all, a couple of pack members approach to offer their greetings, more so out of respect for me, but I know some of them are still curious about her.
She handles it with stiff politeness, and they move on quickly enough.
It takes great effort to ignore the way their eyes linger on her, some questioning and some just curious. Every part of mewants to bare my teeth and cause a scene, but I can’t. Not while there are some humans around, and it’s meant to be a day of celebration and unity, not chaos.
So I rein it in.
Eventually, Astrid regroups with us with splotched cheeks and heavy, content breaths from playing. She holds up a small bunch of flowers in her hand and beams at us, clearly picked from the grass.
“I picked these for you,” she says, beyond proud of herself as she hands some to Lila, then the rest to me.
Her little fingers brush against mine, and that tenderness pulls at my heart all over again. It’s startlingly warm, but normal, like this isn’t out of the question for me.
“Thank you, Astrid,” I return with a grin, admiring the flowers in front of her. “These are the nicest flowers I’ve ever received.”
Her expression turns bashful, then she giggles and runs off again, welcomed eagerly by the other kids.
When I look at Lila, her eyes are already soft, then she looks away, shaking it off.
The early evening stretches on in a strange tangle of domesticity and lingering tension. We talk to a few couples, keeping things light and avoiding pack-related matters for the time being, but my attention never fully leaves Astrid’s joy as she plays, or Lila while she stays nearby.
Eventually, she murmurs, “You’re keeping close tonight.”
“I always will,” I say honestly, gazing down at her from where we linger by the meadow. “Whether you want me to or not.”
She seems conflicted for a moment, but she doesn’t return with outright rejection. Instead, she just takes a breath and averts her gaze. She’s putting on a brave face for the event, but I know it’s wearing her down.
Taking a small step closer, every instinct in me is shouting to ease that tension for her. To test the boundary.
Luckily, she doesn’t step back.
“Lila,” I murmur, using my careful hold on her back to guide her closer to me, tucking her against my side.
I give her every chance to pull away, but almost like she can’t stop herself from relying on my proximity, she goes with it.
