The rains began to loosen their grip. The once-constant drumming on roofs softened into scattered showers, and the swollen rivers pulled back into their beds. The air still held its dampness, but with each day the sun lingered longer, chasing mist from the forest edges.
Charlisa found herself falling into the steady rhythm of village life. Her mornings began with grinding grains into flour, her arms slowly growing stronger with the motion. She had learned to cook over the open flame, coaxing flavors from herbs she had gathered herself, her confidence growing with every meal she prepared.
Kael often lingered nearby during these moments, his eyes filled with a kind of quiet pride. When she burned the stew, he would tease her, taking exaggerated gulps as though it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. When she succeeded, he leaned close to murmur, "You're becoming more of us than you realize."
The food of the season reflected the change around them. Fresh tubers unearthed from damp earth, mushrooms sprouting in shadowed groves, small game caught in snares, and fruits swollen with rain. Charlisa learned which leaves were best boiled for teas that soothed the body, and which spices warmed the belly against the chill that still lingered at night.
Her days were busy but never dull. Sometimes she joined the women in weaving reed mats, her fingers stumbling clumsily but guided patiently by older hands. Other times, she followed the hunters returning, learning how every part of the animal was used—meat dried for stores, hides stretched for clothing, bones carved into tools. Nothing was wasted.
What struck her most was the pristineness of it all. Life here wasn't without struggle, but it was whole. Every person contributed, every action had meaning, and even the simplest tasks—fetching water, stirring the pot, mending clothes—were bound with purpose.
Yet there were also the moments that belonged only to her and Kael. In the evenings, when the firelight painted the world in amber, he would pull her close, his warmth chasing away the damp. They spoke of nothing and everything, her laughter often rising into the night. Sometimes, when they lay beneath the thatched roof listening to the softened rain, Charlisa felt that the village was no longer just a place she stayed—it was becoming home.
And still, in the back of her mind, lingered the memory of Kael's other form. The storm-beast whose face so adorable that can rival the most cute cat on earth. It remained their secret, binding them even more tightly, a thread of mystery woven into their growing love and ordinary days.
The season was shifting, and with it, so was Charlisa.