“My mother liked colorful gems,” Theron says as he guides me toward a pile of furs near the cave wall. “My father would come here often to gather the most beautiful crystals he could find for her.”
“Did you bring these furs here to sit on?”
Theron shakes his head, a small smile playing on his mouth. “My mother loved to watch my father work,” he says as he sits beside me. The warmth in his expression tells me how deeply he cherishes those memories. Ánya sounds like such a lively, spirited person.
“I wonder what it would’ve been like if our parents had met,” I say.
The thought of my mother sitting with Ánya, chatting over cups of tea, brings an unexpected smile to my face. My mother, always so reserved and serious, paired with someone as vibrant as Ánya—it feels like they’d complement each other perfectly. I think they could’ve been great friends.
I pat my thighs.
It catches Theron’s attention, and he tilts his head. “What’s that? A human custom?”
Shaking my head with a small smile, I say, “It’s an invitation. When I was little, I’d rest on my mother’s lap, and she would sing me lullabies.”
Theron shifts back, studying me before carefully resting his head on my thighs. The weight of him warms my heart.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask, brushing my fingers over his fur.
He nuzzles his snout against my knees. “Very.”
My fingers trace over his pointed ears, smoothing the strands of hair he so carefully combs in the mornings.
It’s been a while since I last sang this. I take a deep breath and begin.
Rest, my rose, in the night’s warm glow,
The stars will guard you, their secrets flow.
Theron’s ears twitch at the sound of my voice, and his paw tightens under my knee.
Your petals soft, with strength unseen,
Through darkest shadows, a light serene.
The crystal waits where the frost runs deep,
Its heart aglow, in eternal keep.
I lean back against the cool cave wall and let the melody play in my mind. My mother’s voice echoes in my memory. This lullaby... For the first time, I truly understand it. I am the rose, and Theron is the crystal.
“My mate.” Theron shifts to lie on his back.
I hum in question, my hand still on his mane.
“I’ve heard this song before.”
“You have?”
He nods, his golden eyes meet mine as he sings.
A guardian bold, through storm and tide,
Protects the bloom with steadfast pride.
When rose and crystal together stand,
The winds shall sing across the land.
