I nod, my chest swelling with pride. My mate is smart. “You continue to surprise me,”
She turns away and keeps walking.
“What’s a military?” I ask, the word foreign on my tongue.
Noël blinks, clearly not expecting the question. She turns to face me fully. “It’s... an organized group of people trained to defend their land, their people. We follow orders from commanders, go on missions, and protect our villages from threats.”
A part of me relates to the structure she describes. It sounds so similar to the way vólkins train and protect our own. “So humans have their own warriors,” I muse aloud. “Like us.”
“Yes, I suppose so. We train to fight and survive, to protect what matters. It’s probably not so different from your kind.”
Interesting. The concept of a human defense system fascinates me. I’ve always known humans have their own methods of survival, since they don’t have sharp claws or thick pelts, but hearing it firstpaw from my mate makes it feel more real.
“So, you were a warrior,” I say. Both of us, then. A deadly pair.
“I had to be,” she answers, crouching beside the berry bush. “It was expected of me. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t questioned or doubted at every step. Especially since I’m a woman.”
“What does that mean?” Was her life more difficult because she’s a female? In Ávera, females are precious.
“In my world,” my mate begins as she picks a berry, “women—females—are looked down on. We can’t even leave our villages... A woman born in Tárnov, dies in Tárnov. We all know that.”
Her words make me realize how different human societies must be. The more I learn about her, the more I want to understand the world she comes from.
But when a world forgets the worth of its females, it writes its own end. And I won’t let that happen.
As Noël munches on the berries we’ve gathered, we approach an apple tree, its branches laden with ripe fruit. I’ve always preferred the taste of meat, but Elder Aïna said humans love sweet tastes and that fruits are healthy for them. I wonder if Noël enjoys all fruits or if some aren’t to her liking.
Leaf spirits move around us, their tiny lights dancing playfully in the leaves.
Noël’s gaze locks onto an apple hanging just out of her reach. How did she choose that exact one? They all look the same, but she’s been looking at them as if they’re not.
Her eyes shine with want as she prepares to jump for it, her body tensing. But before she can make the leap, she pauses, noticing the leaf spirits fluttering toward the branch. A few grip the stem, while others gather around the fruit, trying to pluck it free for her.
I lower the branch so my mate can have the apple she wants. There’s a snake wrapped around that branch, so I snap it away. My mate wanted that specific apple. The spirits pluck it for her, and she takes her first bite.
A low growl escapes my throat before I can stop myself.
Noël’s body stiffens in response, her head snapping up to look at me, concern lacing her expression.
The voices are near.
“What is it?” she asks. “You were tense by the stream too.”
I step back, my ears straining to catch more of the conversation. “There are two men not far from here,” I murmur. “They’ve been moving in our direction for some time now.”
Noël’s eyes widen. But fear isn’t what flashes across her face—it’s anger. She knows something I don’t.
“Two men?” she echoes through gritted teeth. “It’s Arnold... it has to be him, and his friend.”
At the mention of this male—Arnold—something cold and dark unfurls inside me. “Who isArnold?” I ask, my voice low.
“Arnold is the man who kidnapped me,” she spits out, her free hand curling into a fist. “He tied me up, gagged me, and threw me into a carriage, planning to take me far away from Tárnov, my village. He wanted to... to take me to my death.”
She pauses, cracking her knuckles. “He’s always been like this. Always trying to break me. But this... This time he went too far. He knocked me unconscious, and I woke up bound,completely powerless. I had to escape before he could finish what he started.”
My claws dig deep into my palms as I try to keep control of the boiling rage inside me. The idea that someone, somemale, dared to harm her—my mate—sends red-hot fury through me.
“He didwhat?” I growl, the words barely escaping through clenched teeth.
