"Are you kidding?" Rell leaned forward, his gray eyes intense. "I couldn't have done any of that without you. That combustion potion bought me the opening I needed. Your sticky trap kept me from getting overwhelmed. And when that bastard with the hammer had you pinned..." He shook his head. "Watching you command those roots like that? It was incredible."
Elora's blush deepened. She wasn't used to praise for anything other than her alchemy skills in the traditional sense—healing potions and academic theory. Having someone recognize her power in combat felt strange and wonderful.
"You saved me multiple times tonight," Rell continued. "See, what did I say? You don't need to be shifted to be powerful. You don't need claws and fangs to protect yourself."
Elora looked down at her hands, bearing the subtle changes of her shifted form, but she could feel the truth in his words settling into her bones. Tonight she'd fought with her mind, her knowledge, her creativity. She'd turned her alchemy into weapons and shields, had bent nature itself to her will.
"Thank you," she said quietly, meeting his eyes. "For showing me that I could do more than just... this." She gestured to her shifted features.
Rell's expression softened. "You've always been more than that, Elora. You just needed to see it for yourself."
Chapter 37
Elora
The fire crackled softly, its glow flickering across the trees as the night settled around them. Elora sat within the draped cloths the Snatcher’s considered passed for a tent, cross-legged on her bedroll, watching the firelight dance. Her senses, heightened in her partially shifted form, picked up on Rell moving before she even saw him.
He dropped onto the ground beside her with an easy sigh. Placing a dark glass bottle on the dirt in front of him, he eyed her with a smirk that was entirely too mischievous for this late at night.
“Serious question, Sunshine,” he started, turning the bottle slightly between his fingers. “Do you have other cat-like tendencies when you’re like this?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
Rell shrugged. “Just wondering if you, I don’t know… get the urge to chase things? Climb trees? Knock shit over for no reason?” Rell smirked and nudged the bottle slightly closer to her.
She immediately wanted to knock it over.
Elora scowled, eyes flicking between him and the bottle. She crossed her arms, resisting the urge. Barely. “Are you testing me?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice rich with amusement.
She huffed. “If you mean an overwhelming desire to swat that bottle across the clearing, then yes. I do.”
He chuckled, picking up the bottle and moving it just out of reach. “Noted.”
He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. He seemed comfortable, more relaxed than usual. After a moment, he spoke again, this time quieter. “I had a cat growing up.”
Elora tilted her head. He didn’t talk about his past much.
“A scrappy little calico named Mahoki,” he continued. “She was a menace. Clawed up every bit of furniture we had, stole food off the table, but I loved that little bastard.”
Elora let out a small amused huff, watching the flickering flames dance in his dark eyes.
“She only liked me, tolerated my mom. My sister—” He stopped short, jaw tensing slightly. Then, just as quickly, he moved on. “Anyway. Mahokilovedscratches behind her ears. She’d go all limp like she didn’t have a single bone in her body. I have a theory.”
Elora eyed him warily. “A theory?”
Rell smirked. “Can I test it?”
He wants to touch me?
Her first instinct was to refuse. The idea of anyone touching her—especially likethat—made something in her stomach twist.
But… it was Rell.
And it wasjusta theory, right?
Curious despite herself, she exhaled and gave a hesitant nod.
