Chapter 8 — "Embers and Shadows"
The fire crackled low, throwing amber light across the clearing. Smoke curled lazily upward, weaving between the dark branches and into the glittering night. The scent of roasted meat hung in the air—wild and rich, tinged with the metallic note of crystal dust that still clung to my skin.
We'd built camp on a ledge overlooking the valley. Below us, the moon painted silver stripes across the stone, and somewhere far away a night-beast called, its cry long and mournful.
Luka crouched beside the fire, turning a spit. His shirt hung open, skin slick from the fight, golden eyes reflecting the flames. "You went for its throat," he said without looking up. "That was reckless… and impressive."
Chyron lounged against a boulder, his fox ears twitching at every sound. "More reckless than impressive," he teased. "If you'd missed by an inch, that tail would've crushed you."
I smiled faintly, fingers tracing the faint glow along the small shard of green crystal hanging from a cord around my neck. "I didn't miss."
Nox sat slightly apart, sharpening his claws on a flat stone. The scrape of claw against rock set my teeth on edge, but his presence—solid, grounded—was oddly comforting. "She didn't," he said. "And the kill stands."
The silence that followed was heavy but not hostile. There was pride in it, and something warmer that I couldn't name.
Chyron tossed a pebble toward the fire. "So, what do we call this pride of ours now? The Reckless Four?"
Luka snorted. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I leaned back, watching the flames dance in the reflection of Nox's eyes. "Names mean little," I said softly. "What matters is surviving the next hunt."
Nox's gaze flicked to me. "Spoken like someone who's already thinking beyond this valley."
He wasn't wrong. I could feel it in my blood—a restlessness, the pull of the wild beyond these cliffs. But beneath that urge was something deeper: the awareness that these males, each different in spirit and scent, were now bound to me by more than a shared battle.
When Luka handed me a portion of meat, his fingers brushed mine, deliberate and brief. The spark that followed was enough to make my breath catch. Chyron noticed—his tail swished once, amused—but said nothing.
The heat of the fire warmed my face. The heat of their nearness warmed something far more dangerous.
Nox finally set the sharpening stone aside and stood. The muscles in his shoulders caught the light, all power and restrained motion. "We rest tonight. At dawn, we move back toward the Pride Circle. The council will want proof of what we killed."
Luka nodded, wiping his hands. "And they'll want to see her," he said, meaning me. "The lioness who took a crystal beast's throat on her first hunt."
I wanted to laugh it off, but the truth was heavier. Their world still felt foreign, filled with ancient instincts that tugged at me like invisible threads. Yet here, by the fire, the edges of my fear softened.
When I finally lay down, the stars seemed close enough to touch. I closed my eyes, listening to the quiet breathing around me—Luka's steady rhythm, Chyron's occasional sigh, Nox's low hum as he kept watch.
Somewhere in that lull between waking and sleep, a thought came to me: This is how a pride begins. Not with blood or vows… but with trust born in battle and silence shared under a single sky.
And though the night air was cold, I felt warm all the same.