Kirk tried to cover his laugh with a cough.
Feral’s expression promised unspecified consequences no one at the table took seriously. I, however, kind of hoped he carried them out—later.
“Tell the story about the southeastern border dispute last month,” Maria told Kirk, clearly deciding to move on before Feral actually followed through on any threats.
Kirk settled into his story. Halfway through, the narrative took a turn I didn’t expect. Something about a confused rabbit, a mountain peak, and Kirk ending up nearly drowning in a waterfall.
My laughter pealed out.
I caught Feral watching me, his expression soft.
“Lady Victoria,” Robin said from across the table. “About the silverleaf tea you suggested. My shift still hasn’t come back, but I’m not as tired. When can I expect it to help?”
I set down my fork. “The silverleaf addresses the fatigue by supporting your body’s natural energy production. It won’trestore your shift on its own, but it should help you feel more like yourself while we work on the underlying cause.”
He nodded, though justified concern remained on his face.
Tessa leaned forward from further down the table. “What were you doing with those glowing vials you had out yesterday?” she asked me.
“They held bioluminescent compound extraction,” I said. “The fungi that grows on the trees here produces light through a chemical reaction. I’m isolating the compound to see if it can be used in preservation spells or as a light source that doesn’t require sustained magical energy.”
Silence stretched around the table.
I tensed, realizing I’d gone into full explanation mode without checking if anyone actually wanted the technical details.
“That’s amazing,” Tessa said. “Can you show me sometime?”
“Of course.”
The conversation moved on. Feral ate and listened but didn’t say much. But his knee pressed against mine under the table and stayed there.
Acorn made a tour of the table, stealing from multiple plates, getting caught each time. He negotiated his way out of each situation through a combination of pathetic looks and strategic offerings of bits he’d already stolen from someone else.
“Your squirrel has no shame,” Kirk said with a laugh.
“None whatsoever,” I said.
The meal wound down as the bonfire came to life, flames catching and climbing into the darkening sky. Someone produced a fiddle, a drum, and something that looked like a wooden flute.
After the plates were cleared, dancing started. Some people laughed and shifted mid-spin, loping around the fire in wolf form before changing back. A few couples slunk into the woods, hands linked.
Acorn went very still where he sat on the table beside my plate.
I followed his gaze to another squirrel at the tree line, looking our way. Smaller than Acorn, the squirrel had a distinctive white patch on one ear.
“Is that a friend?” I asked. “Or do I need to cast a spell to scare them away?”
His whiskers wiggled.No spell, please.
He patted my arm once, then launched off the table, flying above the dancers, landing on the ground beyond. He trotted over to the other squirrel, and the two spiraled up a tree together, their movements coordinated in a way that suggested this wasn’t their first meeting. When did he have time to do something like that?
They vanished into the canopy.
I stared after him, realizing I’d been dismissed by my own companion.
Feral watched too. His mouth pulled at the corner, not quite a smile but close. He offered me his hand. “Dance with me.”
I looked at his hand, then his face. “I’m not coordinated.”
