After talking about some things with Druvarn, Kael returned to the village.
The bear trailed beside him, his stubby legs pattering over the packed dirt path while his button eyes gleamed with smug triumph.
His fur was dusted with dried soil, and his stubby paws twitched every so often as if he couldn't resist shaping another spike or two.
"You know," Kael drawled lazily, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "for someone who says he doesn't care about recognition, you're walking like you just conquered a kingdom."
Druravn puffed his chest. "Correction—I did. A kingdom of spikes."
Kael smirked. "How noble."
As they neared the village, the noise of daily life returned—hammer strikes against wood, distant laughter, the bubbling of stew from the square.
Rue and Rina were the first to spot them when they crossed the open stretch near the stream.
"Druravn!" Rue's voice cut through the air like a bell. She dropped her stick and bolted toward him, Rina close behind.
