"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was going to say it suits you." The squeak climbs, teasing. "Very... breezy. Really complementing the—everything. The tunic is, uh, putting in overtime. Both arms. Both shoulders. Bless it. Bless this tunic, actually. It's doing the Lord's work, wherever the Lord is in this situation, I don't—I don't know, I've never really—is there a werewolf Lord? Is that a thing? Anyway, the tunic. Yes.Breezy."
I grunt.
Almost got me with that one.
Settle against the wall where I can watch the door and my sister at the same time. The tunic rides up. Don't bother fixing it.
The cottage isn't safe. Can't move Kestria yet. We wait.
She checks Kestria's bandages. Gentle fingers, looking for seepage, making sure the wrapping hasn't shifted.
She bends forward to adjust the blanket over Kestria's feet and the fabric of her dress pulls across her hips. I adjust the tightening blanket. Look at the wall behind me.
Fascinating wall.
She's humming under her breath. Something tuneless.
"You should rest."
"So should you."
"I'm watching the door."
"The door's fine." She shrugs. "But you do you."
The bond shifts. Warmer. Kestria surfacing.
She stirs under her blanket. Makes a sound.
"Keer." Her voice is rough. Tired. She squints at me, and then her gaze travels down and lands on the tunic. A weak smile. "You're wearing a dress."
"It's a tunic."
"It'sdefinitelya dress."
"Shut up."
She laughs, then winces. "Ow."
"Then don't be stupid."
"Can't help it. Runs in the family." She looks around the cottage, finds Mel by the wall. "Mel. You haven't slept."
"I'm fine."
"You look terrible."
"Thank you. Very kind."
They share a look. Something private. Years of it.
"We need to move." Both of them look at me. "The cottage isn't safe. Those men will come back, or send others. We go to pack territory."
Kestria nods. Expected that.
