In the evenings, just before sundown, they joined the local wolfkin children in a game they had invented called ‘Wolves versus Humans’. The wolves shifted, their sleek, furred bodies darting left and right, while the human children pelted them with a soft leather ball, laughing wildly each time they managed to land a hit. But the wolves were fast and often dodged the ball, which led to shouts of triumph from wolfkin onlookers. The sound of their joy carried all the way to the front steps of the house. More than once, I found myself standing there with tears in my eyes, overcome at the sight.
Even my mother looked younger, healthier than she had in years. Having only one job allowed her therest she had long been denied, and living in a society where food was freely shared gave her space to breathe, to grieve the loss of my father properly at last. We were no longer clawing at each hour, wondering where the next meal would come from or when the next shift would drag us away. Life here moved at a slower rhythm. For us, it was almost disorienting. We still hurried about instinctively, our steps faster than the wolfkin’s, as though we had yet to accept that we no longer needed to rush to survive.
Though I had not been officially assigned a job, the villagers began calling me “the helper.” Each day I walked into town, stopping at shops or the train station, asking what needed doing. At first, they hesitated to give me tasks, wary perhaps of offending me, but I pressed until they understood. I was not a grifter. I would earn my way.
“I’m going to go into town and grab some flour. We are running low,” I told my mother one afternoon. She sat on the porch mending Mira’s sweater, her hands steady, her expression peaceful as she listened to the sounds of the children playing in the yard.
“Okay, dear,” she said with a small smile.
The walk into town took only five minutes. The cool air nipped at my cheeks, crisp and refreshing, and I waved to my siblings as I passed them at play. MainStreet was alive with the evening bustle. I slipped into the grocery store and greeted the owner warmly.
“Hey, Herb!” I called.
“Hey, Brynn. We got fresh peaches. Be sure to take some for your family,” he said, pointing to a basket overflowing with fruit, their skins flushed and swollen with ripeness.
I gathered half a dozen, still not used to the idea that I could simply take food when I needed it, no coin exchanged, no bargaining for scraps. I filled our empty jar with flour until it was heavy in my arms. After wishing Herb a pleasant evening, I stepped back onto the street, already imagining the taste of peach cobbler.
That was when I heard my name.
“Brynn!”
The voice was sharp, familiar, and it sent a gasp flying from my throat. My grip nearly failed on the bag of groceries as I spun and found myself staring at Cassian Draven.
Two of Kaelric’s wolfkin stood at his side, massive and grim, their hands gripping the Elite’s arms behind his back as though restraining a criminal.
“He says he knows you?” Maddox, one of the guards, asked me.
I nodded quickly. “He’s with us.”
Maddox’s lip curled. “He’s a magic user,” he growled, the wordspat as if it were filth.
I swallowed hard. “He is. But he helped Kaelric and me win the trials. Ask your Alpha. He will vouch for him.”
Maddox went still, his eyes glazing over as he reached out in the wolfkin way. When he blinked back to the present, his grip loosened, and Cassian stumbled free.
The moment he was released, Cassian ran to me. I set down my shopping, opened my arms and he crashed into them. We held each other tightly, both smiling when we finally pulled back.
“You’re alive!” I exclaimed.
“So are you,” he said, grinning. His face was rough, shadowed with stubble, dirt smudged into his blond hair. He smelled like the road, like someone who had survived by sheer will alone.
“Come to my house for dinner. I want to hear everything,” I said, picking up my things, catching his hand and tugging him down the lane.
One of the guards moved to follow. I turned and shook my head. “I’m safe with him.”
“I have orders,” he said simply.
My brow furrowed. Orders. Did that mean Kaelric did not trust Cassian? Strange.
We walked on, and I refused to reach out to Kaelric through the bond, even though I could have. Hehad made his feelings for me plain. I would not bother him for answers.
At the house, I showed Cassian inside and gave him a chance to shower. My mother and I prepared dinner, filling the table with roast chicken, garlic potatoes, and fresh peach cobbler. Once Cassian joined us, I couldn’t help noticing the differences as we ate. My family devoured their food quickly, as though it might vanish at any moment, while Cassian lingered, leaving half his potatoes untouched. My mother eyed them, then casually took his plate after he said he was finished, and popped the last few potatoes into her mouth. Here, nothing went to waste. Not ever.
As the meal wound down, I told Cassian the short, kid-friendly version of what had happened. I explained how I had won the trial but refused the magic, choosing Valkaryn instead. He read between the lines, understanding that not everything should be spoken in front of the little ones.
The children, delighted by his presence, begged him for a magic display. He obliged, though carefully. He explained his gift was truth detection, but he could still entertain them with light. Colors danced across the ceiling in shimmering ribbons as the children shrieked with laughter, chasing the streaks as they danced across the wall. For a moment, the house felt filled with wonder.
Whenmy mother sent the children upstairs to prepare for bed, Cassian and I stepped outside, settling side by side on the porch steps. The wolfkin guard lingered at a distance, watchful but silent.
