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She willed her legs to move, but they failed her the first time.
The second time? They budged.
Bavanda found Loco where she knew he’d be, seated on a mossy log by the stream, tossing pebbles into the water and humming absently. He looked up the moment he sensed her, his eyes softening as he rose.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She gave a small nod, then shook her head. “I saw him. Selene’s father.”
Loco’s brows furrowed. “And?”
She shrugged, almost like it didn't natter. Even though it made her insides turn. “He’s grieving,” she said, voice even. “Wouldn’t let me in.”
There was something guarded in her tone. Loco hesitated, clearly wanting more, but he didn’t push.
Instead, he reached for her hand. “Come on. You need air. Let’s not talk about him. Eat with me, before the berries get warm.”
That earned him a faint chuckle, the first real sound from her since she arrived. “Berries don’t get warm,” she said.
“They do if they sit near me too long,” he quipped, nudging a bowl toward her. “I’m basically a fire spirit.”
Bavanda shook her head, lips curling at the corners. For a while, the shadows in her eyes faded.
She didn’t argue.
Minutes later, they settled on a soft blanket under a canopy of birch trees, a small woven basket between them. Loco had packed it earlier, he always seemed to prepare for her without knowing why.
The sun had just begun to dip, casting everything in warm gold. A small spread of bread, smoked meat, and forest berries laid out on their checkered blanket, while the basket was put aside.
Bavanda nibbled on a piece of honeybread, watching the sky. Loco leaned back beside her, arms folded behind his head.
“You know the pups have declared war on my training grounds?” he said, squinting at a passing cloud. “I found them building a fort out of the dummy weapons yesterday.”
Bavanda chuckled. “You’ve lost control.”
“I never had it. One of them tried to tie my shoelaces together mid-sparring.”
Her lips curved. “Bet it was Thimble. He’s the ringleader.”
“I knew it!” Loco snapped his fingers triumphantly. “He’s got this weird glare like a war general.”
She smiled, more softly now. “He’s got your attitude.”
“Rude,” he said. “I’m perfectly obedient.”
Bavanda shook her head slowly, the corners of her lips twitching upward in the faintest smile.
Loco seized the moment. “So, you missed it,” he said, grabbing a berry and popping it in his mouth dramatically. “Another pup tried to climb the training dummy today. Said he wanted to ‘establish dominance’, over stuffed hay?”
Bavanda blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” he said proudly. “Three feet tall and all the confidence of a war general. I think he even growled.”
“That sounds like Kiven,” she murmured, amusement warming her voice. “He is like Thimble’s second-in-command or first.”
“Oh, it was definitely Kiven,” Loco confirmed with a snort. “Then, when he fell off the dummy, he yelled, ‘I meant to do that!’”
Bavanda covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too hard. “Spirits, he’s going to be a nightmare when he’s older.”
“Or an Alpha. Those two often overlap.”
She giggled, and the sound lightened the air between them. Loco grinned at her and leaned back on his elbows. “Oh, and guess who struck again today?”
Bavanda raised an eyebrow. “Not the owl.”
“Oh yes,” he said with mock seriousness. “The one and only silver-thieving menace. Stole the healer’s brooch right off her drying line. Right in broad daylight.”
“No!”
“Yes!” he insisted. “Just swooped down like a tiny, feathered bandit. We saw it glinting in the sunlight as it flew away. I think it winked at us.”
She laughed again, louder this time, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Winked? Really?”
“I know what I saw.”
Bavanda wiped at a tear that had sprung from her laughter. “You’re insane.”
“I try,” he said, smiling as he watched her. “And I like it better when you laugh like that.”
Her gaze softened. “So do I.”
A quiet pause stretched between them, comfortable and warm. The sky above them had begun to darken, stars blinking gently to life. Bavanda looked up, feeling the stillness settle around her like a blanket.
Loco reached over and gently took her hand. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I’m here. Whenever you do.”
“I know,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, Loco.”
He leaned closer and kissed the back of her fingers, his lips warm against her skin. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re mine.”
She stilled, just for a beat, then looked down.
They didn’t say more. As twilight deepened, they lay side by side on the blanket, listening to the chirping crickets and the distant hum of life returning to normal.
Later, in their shared room, Loco drifted into sleep easily beside her, breathing slow and even. But Bavanda stared at the ceiling, her mind a storm of shadows again.
Thalos’ voice echoed, cold and bitter. “You stole the world from her without even knowing it.”
She swallowed hard, blinking against the ache behind her eyes.
Was it grief? Guilt?
Or just the lingering weight of being blamed for someone else's fall, when all she ever did was survive?
She curled into Loco, her hand resting over his heart, steady and strong beneath her fingers.
But her thoughts kept spinning… long into the night.
Her mind wandered back to Thalos’ eyes—cold, and burning with blame. “She was my daughter!” he’d said, yet Selene’s dying voice echoed louder:
He never loved me… He sold me the moment he saw a way out...
Bavanda stared at the ceiling, heart uneasy. If Selene had been telling the truth, why had Thalos lied? And why did his hatred for her feel so personal?
She turned slightly, gazing at Loco’s sleeping face.
It was almost unbelievable , but part of her was still trapped in the weight of someone else’s grief—a grief steeped in secrets.
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