She stuck her tongue out at me as Canavar chuckled and Nasi hid an inappropriate grin behind his knife.
We ate well, even Veskor when he finally stirred, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of cooked meat. He grabbed his saved portion and shoved it all in his mouth at once, as if we’d steal it from him.
“Veskor! Bad manners!” Perri chastised, wiggling her finger at him.
Veskor froze mid-chew, his eyes darting to Perri like a caught animal. For a second, I thought he might bolt—wounded or not—but instead he forced himself to slow, swallowing hard as if remembering how to be something other than feral.
“Sorry,” he muttered, though it came out rough and unused.
Perri huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to chew. Like this.” She exaggerated the motion, taking a tiny bite of her own food and chewing loudly to demonstrate.
Veskor stared at her like she’d just handed him some ancient, sacred knowledge. Awkwardly, he tore off a smaller piece and tried again.
I had to look away to hide the faint pull at the corner of my mouth.
Across the fire, Canavar snorted. “We’ve adopted a wild beast.”
“He fought like one too,” Nasi said mildly, turning the spit of meat over the flames. “Don’t hear you complaining about that.”
Canavar grunted but didn’t argue.
Veskor’s shoulders tensed at their voices, his gaze flicking between them, waiting—still waiting—for the moment this turned. For a blow, an attack, and eventual dismissal. He was so certain betrayal would come. It wasn’t if, but when.
It sat wrong with me, him having such morose expectations, such certainty.
I shifted slightly, drawing his attention back to me.
“You did well,” I said simply.
He blinked like he hadn’t heard me right.
“You saved all of us,” I continued. “That wasn’t nothing. Imagine how you’ll fight when you’re back to full health.”
“I want to see him take on Benedict and Kieran,” Canavar grunted. “Just to see your style of fighting more.”
Veskor’s jaw worked like he didn’t know what to do with the words. His gaze dropped back to his hands, still clutching what little food remained.
“Didn’t do it for you,” he muttered.
“I didn’t say you did,” I chuckled, glancing at Perri.
That earned me a glare, but it lingered a fraction longer than before.
Progress.
It was small and fragile, but real.
The fire burned low as night settled in around us. The plains grew quiet again, though not in that same wrong, hunting silence from before. Wind rustled through the grass, mixing with the distant cry of something nocturnal. The world settled into itself.
We arranged ourselves with our backs to the stone, just as I’d planned. Perri was snuggled in between us, insisting on cuddling up against Veskor’s chest. She fell asleep almost instantly, Veskor’s arms and wings curled around Perri protectively. His eyes were heavy and kept twitching, but he refused to sleep.
Canavar protested less than I expected when I insisted we all stay grounded, though I noticed the way his clawsdug into the earth every time his wing twitched. He was hurting. Nasi took the first watch without argument. I stayed awake longer than I should have.
“You should sleep,” I told Veskor quietly. “Nasi has the first watch.”
He twitched from his spot on the ground with Perri, eyes open though exhaustion dragged at him. Every so often his gaze would flick to Canavar. To Nasi. To me.
Still waiting for the other claw to drop.
