I woke to the cabin's quiet hush, the lake's surface glassy and still outside the window, reflecting the first hints of dawn. Miko was nestled against me, her tail still wrapped around my leg from the night before, her breathing soft and even. One more plan bubbled up in my mind before we headed back to Zemen—hiking. The trails around here were supposed to be stunning, weaving through forests to overlooks with killer views. With the house finally wrapping up construction, this felt like the perfect cap to our getaway, a last breath of wild freedom before settling in.
Miko stirred a few minutes later, her ears twitching as she blinked awake. I reached over, gently rubbing the soft fur of her cat-like ears between my fingers, knowing how much she loved it. She purred low in her throat, arching into my touch, her eyes half-lidded with contentment. "Mmm, keep doing that," she murmured, her tail flicking happily.
In return, she leaned in, nibbling playfully at my earlobe, her fangs grazing just enough to send a shiver down my spine. It was teasing, intimate, the kind of morning ritual that made everything else fade. We lingered like that, her body pressing closer, but hunger—for food—won out eventually.
We got up, and I threw together breakfast: pancakes from the cabin's supplies, topped with berries we'd picked yesterday, and strong coffee. Miko devoured hers, her pregnancy glow making her even more radiant as she chatted about the baby, her hand absently on her belly.
After eating, we geared up for the hike—light packs, water, and sturdy shoes. The trail started right from the lake's edge, winding up through dense pines that smelled like fresh earth and resin. Miko was in her element, her hybrid senses drinking in the nature around us. "Look at that!" she'd exclaim, pointing out a deer bounding away or a cluster of wildflowers blooming in a sun-dappled clearing. We held hands as we walked, the path climbing to breathtaking overlooks where the lake sprawled below like a sapphire jewel, mountains framing the horizon.
It was a great day—laughing at her attempts to mimic bird calls, stealing kisses at scenic spots, her tail swishing with pure joy. No rush, just us and the wilderness, the world's worries feeling a million miles away.
By late afternoon, we looped back, tired but buzzing. We packed our stuff after a simple dinner of leftovers by the fire, loading the car as the sun dipped low. "Homeward bound," I said, starting the engine, knowing the crew had texted—the house was done, ready for us to claim.
The drive back was smooth at first, the radio humming softly in Bulgarian. But then a news bulletin cut in, urgent voices rattling off details I could half-decipher: Russian troops crossing into Romania, escalations, borders breached. My grip tightened on the wheel. WW3 inching closer, Romania right next door to Bulgaria. Shit. I glanced at Miko—she was dozing in the passenger seat, head lolled against the window, oblivious. Good; no need to stress her, especially now.
Worry gnawed at me, though. What if they drafted me? Hybrids could go frist then us humans might be seen as assets—or liabilities. Hopefully not, but the thought twisted in my gut. I quickly switched the station to some upbeat folk music, the melodies chasing away the dread as I focused on the road.
We pulled up to our new home in Zemen as night fully settled, the hillside plot glowing under streetlamps. It looked perfect: sturdy stone walls, a porch overlooking the Struma, our sanctuary. I gently shook Miko awake. "We're here, kitten. Our place."
Her eyes fluttered open, widening with excitement as she took it in. "It's... ours," she breathed, a grin splitting her face. She looked more thrilled than I'd seen her, tail lashing as she imagined our new start—family, stability, no more running.
But inside, it was bare—still needed furniture, beds, all the trappings. "Tomorrow," I promised, and we drove the short way back to the hotel for one more night. In our familiar room, Miko practically bounced onto the bed, more excited and happy than ever, chattering about paint colors and nursery ideas.
I slid in beside her, but sleep didn't come easy. Anxiety about the war simmered—troops, drafts, what it meant for us. But as Miko cuddled up, her warmth enveloping me, tail draping over, the worries dulled. After a while, exhaustion won, and I drifted off, holding her close.