Chapter 6: Celebration

The surviving Hyenakin ran.

Not retreated strategically.

Not withdrew with dignity.

Ran.

The moment Agrus lost his head, whatever loyalty had been keeping his remaining men together disappeared faster than free food at a college party.

Weapons hit the ground.

A few scrambled over the damaged barricade.

Others sprinted toward the hills without even looking back.

I watched them disappear into the darkness and tightened my grip on the sword.

Part of me wanted to chase them.

Not because I had suddenly developed a heroic addiction to justice.

Mostly because letting armed slavers escape felt like leaving cockroaches alive after finding them in the kitchen.

I took one step forward.

Clyr caught my arm.

"Leave them."

I glanced at her.

"They're getting away."

"I can see that."

"So we agree on the problem."

"There is no problem."

I pointed toward the hills.

"They kidnapped your people."

"They failed."

"They tried."

"And their leader is dead."

I looked toward Agrus's head.

Still there.

Still very detached from the rest of his career.

"Fair."

Clyr released my arm.

"Without Agrus, they won't survive long out there tonight."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"The monsters."

Right.

Those.

I had briefly forgotten that this world included wildlife capable of upgrading fleeing slavers into dinner.

Gran, who was being helped upright nearby, gave a tired laugh.

"They depended on Agrus more than you realize. His strength kept the smaller predators away."

I looked toward the darkness beyond the village.

"So I don't need to chase them."

Clyr shook her head.

"No."

"Because nature is going to finish the paperwork."

Kol snorted.

Clyr gave me a look.

"That is one way to say it."

I shrugged.

"Sucks to be them."

That was apparently the official end of my concern.

The village had survived.

Barely.

Several Wolfkin had been injured, but people were alive. Captured villagers were untied. Families reunited. The barricade looked like someone had tested it with a battering ram and a personal grudge, but repairs could happen tomorrow.

Tonight?

Silverclaw celebrated.

Not some enormous festival with fireworks and trained dancers.

These people had almost been dragged away in chains a few hours earlier.

Their celebration was simpler.

Food appeared.

Drinks appeared.

Somebody brought instruments.

And apparently trauma recovery in Wolfkin culture involved feeding everyone until sadness became physically impossible.

I approved.

Long wooden tables were dragged into the village center.

Roasted meat filled wooden platters. Baskets overflowed with bread. Bowls of vegetables, roots, berries, and whatever else these people could grow or hunt passed from hand to hand.

Someone placed a cup in front of me.

I drank.

Then somebody filled it again.

I drank that too.

Then again.

At some point, I stopped questioning whether accepting every refill was wise.

Wisdom had never been invited.

By my seventh cup, I had discovered something unusual.

I was not drunk.

Not even pleasantly fuzzy.

The alcohol was strong. Everyone had warned me.

One man had taken two cups and started singing to a fence.

Yet I remained completely functional.

I stared down into my cup.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Maybe whatever had brought me here had also upgraded my liver.

If so, finally, a supernatural power designed specifically for me.

I sat at one table with Gran, Kol, and Clyr.

Gran had bandages wrapped around his head and shoulder but was somehow still eating like battle injuries merely increased appetite.

Kol had been quiet for most of the evening, which meant he was behaving exactly like Kol.

Clyr sat beside me.

Close beside me.

Not touching.

But close enough that I was extremely aware of the distance.

She glanced at my empty cup.

"That was your seventh."

I looked inside.

"Was it?"

"You've been counting?" Gran asked.

Clyr's ears twitched.

"I happened to notice."

I turned toward her.

"You happened to notice seven separate times?"

She ignored that.

"You don't seem affected."

"I'm offended on behalf of the alcohol."

Kol looked at my cup.

"That drink is strong."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

Gran lifted his own.

"I've seen men fall asleep after four."

I leaned toward him.

"Your village lacks training."

Clyr raised a brow.

"Training?"

"Drinking is a discipline."

"It is not."

"That attitude is why amateurs suffer."

She shook her head.

"You sound very experienced."

"I drank almost every night back home."

All three looked at me.

Clyr blinked.

"Every night?"

"Most."

Gran laughed.

"That explains several things."

"What things?"

He gestured vaguely at me.

"Everything."

"Excellent diagnosis."

Clyr asked, "How often did you stop?"

I thought about it.

"The only days I haven't had alcohol recently were my first two days here."

Kol stared.

"You drank on your third?"

"I found where Gran keeps his good stuff."

Gran slowly lowered his cup.

"You what?"

"I said nothing."

"You drank my reserve?"

"I said nothing twice."

Gran looked genuinely betrayed.

"That bottle was for winter."

"I thought it tasted seasonal."

Kol started laughing.

Even Clyr covered her mouth.

Gran pointed at me.

"You owe me."

"I saved the village."

"That doesn't replace my alcohol."

"That is deeply insulting."

Gran's expression stayed firm.

I sighed.

"Fine. We'll negotiate compensation."

Clyr looked at me.

"You keep saying 'back home.'"

I glanced toward her.

Gran immediately joined in.

"Actually, yes. You never told us where that is."

I drank what little remained in my cup.

"Far."

Gran waited.

I smiled.

He frowned.

"How far?"

"Very."

Kol leaned forward.

"That is not an answer."

"It contains both distance and mystery."

Clyr studied me.

"Is it somewhere beyond this kingdom?"

"You could say that."

"Across the sea?"

"Much farther."

Gran scratched his beard.

"Another continent?"

I considered how to explain another planet without accidentally starting a religious debate.

"Farther."

All three went quiet.

Kol's eyes narrowed.

"How can anywhere be farther than another continent?"

"Excellent question."

"You are avoiding it."

"Excellent observation."

Clyr did not laugh this time.

She was curious.

Really curious.

"Are there humans there?"

That question was easier.

"Yeah."

Her expression sharpened.

Gran nearly stopped chewing.

Kol sat straighter.

I added, "Actually, only humans."

Silence.

Three sets of Wolfkin eyes stared at me.

Gran finally spoke.

"Only humans?"

"Pretty much."

"No Beastkin?"

"No."

"No Spriggans?"

"Nope."

"Elves?"

"Not real where I'm from."

Kol looked confused.

"Dragons?"

"Stories."

Gran slowly set his food down.

"You lived in a land filled entirely with humans."

"About several billion of us."

Nobody responded.

I looked between them.

"What?"

Clyr stared.

"Several billion?"

"Give or take."

Gran leaned back.

"That many humans…"

Kol whispered, "A legendary race."

I nearly laughed.

Legendary.

If he had ever seen two grown men arguing in a parking lot over who had taken whose space, the mystique would have died instantly.

Kol continued.

"I cannot imagine what such a place must be like."

I smiled.

"Loud."

Gran chuckled.

Kol shook his head.

"No, truly. A civilization of humans must be extraordinary."

Images flashed through my head.

Traffic.

Bills.

Fast food.

Internet arguments.

Airports.

Nightclubs.

People filming themselves doing stupid things for attention.

Extraordinary was certainly one word.

"Believe me, it's less dramatic than you're picturing."

Clyr tilted her head.

"What was it like?"

I rested my elbows on the table.

"Complicated."

"That tells us nothing," she said.

"Then imagine a place where millions of people can speak to each other instantly from opposite ends of the world."

Gran frowned.

"Magic?"

"No."

Kol looked unconvinced.

"Then how?"

"Technology."

Clyr repeated the word slowly.

"Technology."

"Machines. Tools. Systems."

Gran pointed toward me.

"Like your strange shoes."

I looked down.

"Much more impressive than my shoes."

Kol asked, "Did humans still use swords?"

"Mostly for collecting, sports, ceremonies, or people who desperately wanted their walls to look dangerous."

Clyr frowned.

"Then how did you fight?"

I paused.

"That answer would ruin dinner."

Gran laughed.

"You make your home sound frightening."

"It had its moments."

"And you miss it?" Clyr asked.

That landed differently.

I looked down at my cup.

Did I?

I had been dead for three days.

Technically.

There were people back there.

Places.

Memories.

But my life had never exactly been built around deep emotional roots.

I shrugged.

"Parts of it."

Clyr watched me for another moment, but thankfully did not push.

The musicians suddenly changed songs.

The previous lively tune softened into something smoother.

Villagers began clearing space near the center.

Couples stepped forward.

Men and women took each other's hands.

Then they started dancing.

I turned in my seat to watch.

Wolfkin dancing had more hip movement than I expected.

Immediately, my academic interest increased.

I clapped along with everyone else.

One older couple moved beautifully together.

A younger pair nearly collided and started laughing.

"Not bad," I said.

Clyr glanced at me.

"I hope seven cups haven't made your legs useless."

I turned.

"Not even close."

Her cheeks were slightly red.

Could have been alcohol.

Could have been something else.

I had preferences regarding which explanation I wanted.

Clyr stood.

I stared up at her.

She extended one hand.

"Then prove it."

I looked at her palm.

Then at her face.

"Well, Chief. Took you long enough."

"I can change my mind."

My hand immediately landed in hers.

"Absolutely not."

Gran laughed behind us.

Clyr pulled me toward the dancers.

I followed.

People made room.

She stopped facing me.

Then she took my hand and placed it against her hip.

My eyebrows rose.

"Oh."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Behave."

"I have done nothing."

"You made a sound."

"That sound was cultural appreciation."

She took my other hand.

"Follow me."

Then she moved.

Her hips shifted with the rhythm.

One step.

Turn.

Another.

My first reaction was that I had absolutely no idea how this dance worked.

My second reaction came about five seconds later.

Oh.

I understood.

Of course I did.

That strange ability again.

Watch.

Learn.

Adapt.

My feet copied hers.

Then improved.

I matched her rhythm.

Clyr noticed.

"You've done this before?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"Would I lie while holding your hip?"

"Yes."

"Fair."

She moved faster.

I followed.

Her brows lifted.

I grinned.

"I'm starting to enjoy this learning thing."

"So am I."

That answer slipped out before she could stop it.

Her cheeks darkened.

I smiled wider.

Clyr noticed.

"I hate your eyes."

"That's aggressive."

"They're irritating."

"What did my eyes do?"

"They always look like they know something."

"They know plenty."

"No. It's more than that."

She held my gaze while we turned.

"They look like they're trying to pull me in."

I leaned slightly closer.

"Is it working?"

Her lips parted.

She said nothing.

I lowered my voice.

"You want me to stop?"

Clyr held my gaze.

"No."

Interesting.

Very interesting.

She lifted one hand from mine and touched my cheek.

Her palm was warm.

That simple touch erased half the room from my attention.

I leaned closer.

"Chief…"

She swallowed.

"What?"

"Are you falling for me?"

Her eyes widened.

Then narrowed.

"You shouldn't say certain things aloud."

"Really?"

"Yes."

I leaned toward one of her wolf ears.

Careful not to touch it.

I had learned that rule.

Mostly.

My lips stopped close enough for only her to hear.

"Are you falling for me, Chief?"

She froze.

When I pulled back, her entire face was red.

Not slightly.

Completely.

Case closed.

She looked down.

For several seconds, she refused to meet my eyes.

Then, very slowly, she nodded.

Tiny movement.

Still counted.

I stared.

Well.

That worked faster than expected.

"This is embarrassing," she murmured.

I slid my hand farther around her waist.

"No, it isn't."

"It is for me."

"I find it adorable."

"That makes it worse."

"Then I retract adorable."

She looked up hopefully.

"Really?"

"Now it's devastatingly attractive."

She sighed.

I pulled her closer.

Her body settled against mine.

She glanced past my shoulder.

"The other women are staring."

I did not look.

"Let them."

"You were flirting with half of them this morning."

"Allegedly."

"I saw you."

"That evidence keeps appearing."

Her expression turned slightly annoyed.

I smiled.

Then leaned closer to her ear again.

"Right now, I only care about you, Clyr."

Her eyes softened.

"You're very good with words."

"I practice."

"That isn't comforting."

"It wasn't supposed to be."

She wrapped both arms around my neck.

Her face was close to mine now.

Very close.

I could feel her breath.

"You say things too easily."

"Only when they work."

Her eyes narrowed.

"See?"

I grinned.

"And judging by your arms…"

I glanced meaningfully at them around my neck.

"It's working."

Clyr tried to look offended.

She failed.

The music continued around us.

We kept dancing.

And for once, I did not spend the rest of the celebration testing my luck with anyone else.

Eventually, the party ended.

Villagers carried sleepy children home.

Tables were cleared.

The musicians packed away their instruments.

Gran had consumed enough alcohol to start complimenting Kol's ears.

Kol threatened to leave him outside.

I returned to my room.

My body finally felt tired.

Apparently slaughtering Hyenakin, accidentally discovering supernatural learning abilities, drinking enough alcohol to drown several responsible adults, and dancing with a beautiful Wolfkin chief eventually created fatigue.

Who knew?

I shut the door behind me.

The room was quiet.

I stretched.

"My first week here is going wonderfully."

I sat on the edge of the wooden bed.

It creaked beneath me.

"Still hate you."

The bed offered no apology.

I was about to lie down when I heard something.

Knock.

I paused.

Another knock followed.

Soft.

Careful.

Almost sneaky.

Not the kind of knock someone used when they wanted the whole village knowing they were visiting.

My eyebrows rose.

Interesting.

I stood and crossed the room.

Another tiny knock.

"Yes, yes. Secret visitor service is coming."

I opened the door.

Clyr stood outside.

My brain needed a second.

Her brown hair was wet.

Freshly washed.

Droplets still clung to a few strands near her shoulders.

She smelled faintly clean and herbal, probably whatever passed for soap here.

Her cheeks were already red.

Very red.

She refused to look directly at me for more than half a second.

Her fingers fidgeted near her waist.

And despite trying to stand normally, her breathing was just a little too quick.

Oh.

Oh, this was interesting.

"Chief."

She looked toward the hallway.

Then back at me.

"Keep your voice down."

I lowered it dramatically.

"Chief."

She frowned.

"You are impossible."

"You're the one knocking on my door like you're committing a crime."

"That is why I said be quiet."

"Fair point."

She took a small breath.

Then looked at me.

Immediately looked away again.

I leaned against the doorframe.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"That was convincing."

"I'm fine."

"Even better."

"Caled."

"Clyr."

She pressed her lips together.

I waited.

For once, I decided not to rescue her from the silence.

This was clearly costing her every available piece of courage.

Her ears twitched.

She looked past me into the room.

Then at the floor.

Then finally at my face.

"Can I come in?"

I opened the door wider.

"Of course."