Mona woke to dawn's soft glow, pine resin sharp in her nose and the fire's last embers sighing like old friends. She stretched, her tail uncurling from beneath the blanket to flick once, twice. A lazy metronome. The prior night was too much. After alley nights huddled behind barrels, this comfort felt like a trap.
Her chest tightened. Paws silent on worn floorboards, she drank in the room: the hearth's lingering heat, the quilt's wooly embrace, Valen's spare cloak draped over a chair. A final glance. Then she tugged her hood low over twitching ears and stuffed her tail into her trousers, the fabric scratching like burlap.
At the door, her hand hovered. The brass handle leached cold into her palm, a slap after the room's embrace. What am I doin'? The thought hissed like steam. Stay, and risk watching Valen's kindness curdle to disgust when humans came hunting? Go, and keep the ache familiar. She sighed.
The click of the latch was a guillotine's drop. Outside, the city's chill wrapped around her. Promise and peril, twined like ivy. She melted into the shadows, tail clamped still.
Dawn bled into the morning as Calamor stirred. Roads gleamed, still damp from the night's rain, but no fresh drops fell. Mona hugged the alley walls, eyes slicing through the waking crowd. Fishmongers shouted prices as a blacksmith's hammer clanged. Then it hit her. Sun-warmed fur. Her breath caught. Another catfolk.
Her pulse thrummed in her throat, a wild thing caged too long. She hadn't smelled kin in ages. Her steps quickened, pads whispering over stone as she wove past carts and beggars. The scent ribboned through the air, pulling her along, toward the entertainment district.
Human laughter spilled from tavern doors, thick with the reek of ale and perfumes. She hated it here. Too many eyes, too much noise. But the trail snaked deeper, past drunkards and dice games. Ahead, a hooded figure darted through the throng, strides short and hurried. Mona lunged after them, but the crowd swallowed the stranger whole. Panic nipped at her heels.
She followed the fading scent until it stopped dead before a towering building. Lanterns shaped like crescent moons hung above doors that breathed out cloying jasmine. Inside, the catfolk's trail vanished under a blanket of perfume. Mona's nose wrinkled. Sweat beaded her lip. Just a peek, she promised herself, and slipped through the door.
Heat rushed Mona's cheeks the moment she stepped inside. Not just warmth, but a feverish embrace of incense and bodies. Her nose stung; jasmine, alcohol, sweat. Plush carpets silenced her footsteps as she scanned the room. Unfamiliar sights all around. She noted the shiny mirrors, the soft cushions, a big light that dripped crystal teeth. Human and elven girls in silk shifts paused mid-laugh, eyes widening at her hooded shape.
Mona ducked her chin, tail clamped rigid against her spine. Their whispers slithered past. She ignored them, gaze snagging on the woman atop the staircase. Silk hugged her curves. Her eyes, sharp as shards of obsidian, pinned Mona where she stood.
Fioré's smile was cautious. Another stray? The hood hid too much, but those twitching ears… Non. Startle her, and she'd bolt. If her aim is trouble, the girls near are first in harm's way. She let her voice unfurl, rich and honeyed, softening the edge. "You're early, chérie," she called, one hand resting lightly on the banister. "Or did the streets steal your sense of direction?" Her other hand drifted to her hip, fingers brushing the hidden seam where steel slept.
Mona's pulse hammered in her throat. The madam's voice was a silk noose. She froze, carpet fibers clinging to her worn boots. Deepen it, she begged herself, throat tightening. "I seek… something," she managed, pitching her voice rough as gravel. Eyes flickered toward shadowed alcoves. One step forward. Hood tilted up just enough to glimpse Fioré's face. "Someone… special?" The word stumbled. Sweat dampened her collar.
"Special?" Fioré echoed, descending like spilled wine. Each step made the chandelier's light catch the scarlet of her hair. "But of course, ma petite. Yet you intrigue me." Her gaze scraped over Mona's hunched shoulders, the too-big cloak. Refugee? Or slaver?
Luna's face flashed in her mind: silver fur, haunted eyes. This one moved like prey, but prey could bite. Fioré closed the distance, perfume thickening the air between them. Her smile stayed, polished and cold. "Define 'special'," she murmured, left hand resting lightly on Mona's arm. "All my jewels shine."
Mona knew she couldn't hide her true nature forever. Her fingers shook as she gripped the hood's edge. Fabric slid back, freeing tufted ears that flattened against her skull. Golden hair spilled over her shoulders, bright against the brothel's dim rouge.
She met Fioré's stare, pupils wide and dark. "No harm," she breathed, the purr in her voice fraying at the edges. "I caught… a scent. Like mine." She scanned the madam's face. No sneer, no pity. Just… stillness. Her hand hovered, trembling, near the hood. One wrong twitch, and she'd vanish.
Fioré gasped. So young. The girl's eyes held that raw, feral hope Luna once had. Risking exposure here? Either foolish or desperate. Likely both. "Ah," she murmured, voice softening like warmed honey. "A friend."
Her hand lifted, slow as sunrise, and settled on Mona's shoulder, not restraining, just grounding. "You're safe, chérie." Her thumb brushed the girl's collarbone. She nodded toward the hood, her smile gentle but edged with steel. "Cover those pretty ears. Humans see prey, not kin."
Mona yanked the hood down, shadows swallowing her ears again. She leaned in, close enough to catch Fioré's scent: vanilla and something medicinal, like crushed yarrow. "Please," she whispered, the word raw. "Others like me. The smell…" Her nose twitched. "It's here." Her gaze clung to the madam's, yellow irises with hope. That warm hand on her arm was both a lifeline and a risk. Kindness in Calamor was a coin with two faces.
"Names first, ma petite," Fioré chided softly, guiding Mona past a curtain of sapphire beads. Her stride was swift, purposeful. Down a corridor where candlelight licked at oil paintings of laughing nymphs. Mona's shoulders hunched, eyes darting to every half-open door. Fioré didn't slow. "I'm Fioré," she said, fingertips pressing reassurance into Mona's sleeve. "And you? Even strays have titles."
Fioré's grip was steady, but Mona's mind spun. Trap? Bait? Her claws pricked her palms through her gloves. She inhaled. The scents of dust, wax, and Fioré's vanilla grounded her. "Mona," she whispered. Ahead, a plain oak door, its wood scarred by time. No carvings or markings. Plain as parchment.
Fioré rapped twice, sharp and decisive. "Luna?" Her voice dropped, velvet over steel. "A situation." She nudged Mona toward the wall. "Wait here." The door cracked open. Not perfume. Soap. Sharp, clean lye. Mona pressed her back to the plaster, tail lashing against her trousers. She sniffed the air. Chamomile. And beneath it… fur.
Luna's ears flattened. Fioré's knock meant danger. Or…? She scrambled upright, quilt pooling at her waist. "What happened?" Her whisper cracked. The door inched open. Fioré's face was tense, but not afraid. Beside her, a hooded shadow, small and trembling.
"Calm down, ma lune," Fioré soothed, stepping clear. "She's… special."
Luna froze. Another? Her breath, stolen. Blankets hit the floor. She crossed the room in three strides, bare pads silent on the rug. "Show me," she demanded. Fioré flicked a glance down the hall. An elven girl, blonde and sharp-eyed, nodded once, melting into the shadows to keep watch.
Fioré's hand brushed Mona's shoulder with a nudge, not a push. "Enter, chérie," she murmured, voice velvet. "Luna is… family." She slipped out, the door clicking shut like a secret sealed.
Warmth. That was Mona's first thought. Not the brothel's stifling heat, but dry air smelling of chamomile and pine needles. Luna stood frozen, silver fur catching the lamplight. Mona's hood fell back. Gold hair. Tufted ears. A tail uncoiling, stiff from confinement.
"Mona," she squeaked.
Luna didn't gasp. She swayed. As if Mona's name was a hook in her chest. Her own tail lashed. "You're real," she whispered.
Her gaze snagged to Mona's hair. Sun-gold. Her village whispered of such pelts and their consequence. She lunged forward, pads skidding on the rug. "You're—" Words jammed. She grabbed Mona's hands. Warm. Calloused. Tangible. "Beautiful," she blurted.
Then the floodgates burst. "Where'd you come from? Outside the city? Do you—" Her nose wrinkled. No metal-and-leather tang. No collar scars. "You're free? In Calamor?" The question cracked. Hope, sharp as glass. Her tail lashed the air, stirring dust motes. "How?"
Mona's eyes rounded at the onslaught of questions, her tail flicking as she processed them. She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Never had owners," she murmured, voice thin. "Always a stray. The streets are my home." Luna's joy dimmed to worry, but Mona hurried on. "Someone offered me shelter, though."
Luna's ears pricked forward, wonder cutting through her skepticism. "Shelter? With a human?" She closed the gap between them, breathless. "No more hiding your ears? Do they treat you kindly? What's their name?" More questions tumbled out, her enthusiasm infectious.
Mona felt warmth bloom in her chest. Luna's earnest wonder began thawing years of solitude. "He acts like I'm normal," she began, voice gaining strength. "Not some stray to pity or hide." She hesitated, then added softly, "Fur seems plain to him."
She embellished the truth: stable walls, not temporary refuge. "But 'nough 'bout me." Her tail curled playfully. "Your turn. How'd you end up here?" A shadow crossed her face. "Does this owner make you… 'service' the humans?" Whatever that means, she thought.
Luna recoiled as if struck. "Never!" Horror sharpened her whisper. "Fioré wouldn't... I cook, I scrub, I mend." Her fingers darted toward the crimson ribbon knotted in her hair. "This means 'off-limits'. Fioré wears one too." A hollow laugh escaped her. "I've seen enough to know my fortunes here." She searched Mona's face, desperate. "Why ask that? What tales poison your ears about The Crescent Moon?"
Mona's ears flattened. Did she say something wrong? "This is… the Crescent Moon?" She scanned the velvet-draped walls, pulse quickening. "Humans whisper. A 'service house,' they call it." Her gaze fell. "Can't read their fancy signs. Only know their words." She tilted her head, a thought blooming. "I see the human men leave. Always happy." Mona's tail lashed once. "Could you… teach me this 'servicing'?" The question hung, guileless. "Will it keep me safe?"
Luna went rigid. She doesn't even know what she's asking. "No." The word struck like lightning. "Some skills carve out your soul." She gripped Mona's wrist, not gently. "You stay innocent. Promise me." Her eyes burned. "Swear you'll never seek those lessons."
Luna watched Mona's shoulders slump. Too young, she realized. Even if her body isn't. She changed tack abruptly, hoping to shield her. "Fioré found me bleeding in an alley," she said, voice stripped bare. "My village was raided, and my sister stolen. I ran for days, searching." Her claws unsheathed, gouging the upholstery. "Slavers found me when I slept outside the city." She began to recount the incident.
"They were clumsy," she murmured, voice thick with memory. "All fists and drunken curses. Chased me right to the brothel's back steps." A shudder ran through her. "Then Fioré was just… there. Blade drawn, silk robe flaring." Her eyes lit with fierce pride.
"First lout got a new scar for his collection, right across that ugly sneer. The other tried to grab her, but she danced back like smoke." Luna's laugh was brittle. "Crushed his foot with her heel instead." She leaned closer to Mona, urgent. "They limp away, but they'll be back. So, I offered to… repay. As they do here." A bitter laugh. "She spat at my feet. Said my soul wasn't for sale."
Mona's fingers traced the velvet chair's seam, Luna's tale echoing. Fioré's blade… Valen's quiet hands. "They're… different," she whispered, almost to herself. Then she barked, "Valen."
Luna's vision snapped to Mona, head tilted.
"He's the one who offered me shelter." Her gaze swept the room before locking onto Luna. "I wanna… help him." Determination straightened her spine. "How can I?" She leaned forward, ears high. "Teach me something useful? Cleaning? Cooking?" A hesitant pause.
Luna's whiskers twitched. "Valen?" Recognition brightened her face. "Tall human? Dark hair with grey like stormclouds?" She chuckled, recalling his bristling stance near Fioré. "He demanded to know if I was coerced." Her voice softened. "Fioré trusts him." A pause, weighted. "If he shelters you?" Luna squeezed Mona's hand. "Trust it. And if doubt bites…" She tapped her crimson ribbon. "Find me. Always."
As candlelight flickered shadows across the walls, the two catgirls lost themselves in shared stories and dreams. Mona spoke of nights alone on rooftops, watching the world pass below, while Luna told of her village life before the streets claimed her.
Their conversation wove through the twilight hours, laughter and whispers a soft symphony in the quiet. The scent of a fresh meal drifted from the hall, and Mona's stomach growled softly. Hours had slipped by since she arrived.
Luna's words kindled hope. If Valen helped others like them, perhaps he truly cared. Mona drew a steadying breath. "Luna, I'll take Valen's offer,'" she said, her nod firm. "I wanna believe." She stepped closer, tail swaying. "Thank you for sharin' your story. Gave me courage to try." With a final smile, she turned toward the door, eyes alight with hope and trepidation. 'I'll come visit, okay?'
Luna's eyes met hers, alight with joy. "I'd love that!" She dashed to Mona, throwing arms around her in a fierce embrace. The gesture felt alien, yet… not unwelcome. Mona mimicked it awkwardly, unsure. Luna tightened her hold, lingering before pulling back to lock eyes. A vibrant smile matched her gleaming gaze. "Please be safe, Mona."
"I will!" Mona chirped, slipping from the Crescent Moon into cool evening air, heart racing. Luna's embrace lingered in her thoughts as she walked. Calamor's bustling streets swallowed her whole, cobblestone alleys twisting like moonlit labyrinths. Scents of roasting meat and distant laughter filled the air. Her empty stomach growled softly. She stuck to shadows, avoiding attention.
Her eyes darted side to side as she wove through crowds, unaware a shady pair trailed her from a distance. Their eyes gleamed greed, intentions murky as the alleys they stalked. Despite heightened senses, Mona remained oblivious, thoughts consumed by Luna's warmth and Valen's promise. As crowds thinned, she quickened her pace. Shadows lengthened, streets quieted, until she reached the faded door, faint scent of Valen lingering. She rapped gently, heart pounding.
Valen's heart skipped at the tapping. Lost in thought, he wiped hands on his apron, whip clipped at his side. He pulled the heavy wood open, met Mona, eyes wide and hopeful. "Mona!" Delight spilled into his voice. "What brings you back?" He stepped aside, letting her enter, though shadows danced in the alley behind her. His grip tightened on the doorknob, though he stayed silent, focusing on her presence. "I was about to eat," he gestured to the stove's pot. "Fish stew, if you're hungry."
Mona's eyes lit up at the mention of food. "Oh, that sounds amazin'!" She stepped inside, sighing relief. The house's warmth still welcoming. She scanned the room, eyes drinking in details. This might be home. "I've never had fish stew before," she admitted, tail swaying. "But I've smelled it from the pretty houses." She neared the pot, nose twitching. "It's nice. Havin' friends." Her voice softened, vulnerability cracking her bravado. "An' now I've got two human friends!" She offered a tentative smile, heart racing with hope.
Valen's expression darkened. "Two?" He stepped closer, hand on her shoulder, eyes searching hers. Voice laced with worry for her safety, and her recklessness. "You met another human?" He was careful not to accuse, but protectiveness flared. Calamor's underbelly exploited innocence like hers.
Mona nodded eagerly, eyes shining. "Yep! I met a pretty lady named Fioré. She introduced me to Luna!" Her tail flicked rapidly. "Luna's a catfolk like me!" Wonder filled her voice. "She's got a job, a safe place, everything!." She paused, noticing Valen's tension. "Madam Fioré takes good care of her." She looked up, hopeful. "They were kind. Said I could trust you!"
Valen's tension eased. "Oh, Fio." A warm smile touched his lips. "She's an ally to many unfortunate souls." Relief softened his gaze. "You had me worried. I thought you'd found trouble. But with her, you're safe." He stroked her cheek gently. "You're safe here too." A hint. "But you must be careful in the city, okay?"
Mona's eyes widened as Valen's comforting strokes stopped. She looked up, her playful gaze swallowed by his serious tone. "I-I'm always careful," she said meekly.
Before she could continue,—THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!— a rattling bang shook the door. Then again.
Her tail shot up, alarm spiking. She stepped back, heart racing. "W…W-What's that?" she whispered, gaze darting between the door and Valen's now tense frame.
Valen's eyes narrowed. He moved swiftly, whispering, "Mona, hide in the attic. Don't come out until you hear my voice. Only mine. Understand?" He waited for her nod, her eyes wide with fear. As she scurried up, tail vanishing through the hatch, Valen called, "Just a moment!" His calm voice masked coiling tension. He breathed deep, listening to muffled footsteps outside, grip tightening on his whip.
Valen unlatched the door with practiced ease. Two scruffy humans stood on dim steps. Tall, broad-shouldered, and malice palpable. "Can I help you?" Valen's voice was cool. "Bit late for social calls, no?" He stepped into the doorway, blocking the interior from view.
The men shared a glance, eyes gleaming cruel anticipation. "Lookin' for a lost kitty," one sneered, hand near his pocket. "Heard she's causin' trouble." The other leered, gaze raking Valen's form, landing on his whip. "And she's got some rare fur, too."
Valen's eyes swept the men. Bruises and scrapes adorned their faces and hands, some fresh. Too fresh. His gaze stayed unflinching, a smirk creeping in. "Seems you've courted trouble yourselves," he observed, voice calm, condescension threading through. "Why do you think she's here?"
The taller man, scar snaking from eye to mouth, stepped forward. He reached for the door. Valen moved faster than they'd dreamed. He stepped onto the porch, boots skidding. His grip locked the intruder's arm, strength belying his apparent age. Bone ground beneath fabric.
"Now, gentlemen." Valen's voice rumbled low as he raised the arm, forcing the man onto tiptoes. "Reconsider." His fingers dug deeper. "This is my home." He leaned close, breath hot on the scarred face. "And I will defend it."
The man snarled, shifting weight to break free. Valen stepped aside, fluid as shadow, using the momentum against him. A spin, flick of the wrist, and the thug crashed into his companion. Both sprawled on cobblestones, gasping.
The men scrambled up, desperation sharpening their glare. Kill him and the prey awaits. The scarred one drew a dagger, moonlight catching its edge like a sneer. The other unsheathed a short sword, eyes darting to Valen's whip.
Valen didn't blink. Hand sliding to his hip, leather whispered free. "There's the excuse I needed," he growled, power simmering beneath the calm. The whip cracked like thunder splitting the night air. It lashed past the scarred man's hand, slack coiling the dagger's hilt with serpent grace. A yank, and steel clattered on stone.
Valen stepped forward, stance rooted. "I've no interest in fighting," he said, voice soft as grave soil. "But harm what's mine?" His eyes flashed. Not anger, but the void where light goes to die. "This whip will rend flesh from your bones." The swordsman faltered, blade trembling at the promise in those words.
The swordsman lunged, roaring raw in the night. His blade glinted, cold as the moon. Valen staggered, balance lost. Misjudged his speed. Whip slack was tangled, useless in his grasp. The steel aimed true: Pierce the heart.
Instinct saved him. He twisted aside, sword whispering past his ribs. Cobblestones bit his palms as he rolled, shirt torn by the near miss. Up. Now. He yanked the whip back, leather coiling like a viper. No time. No choice.
His fingers clenched the handle. His skin parted with a wet, sickening tear. Blood bloomed, slick and hot. The whip swallowed it, thrumming with dark awakening. Magic surged, shadows coiling around his wrist. Familiar burn. Familiar debt. Always life, he knew, the cost etching deeper.
His eyes flickered with eerie purple light as ancient power stirred. With a flick of his wrist, the whip arced through the air. Crimson droplets of his blood mingled with the magic seeping from its core. The weapon grew hotter, pulsing with his heartbeat until, with a crack that shattered the night, it burst into flames. The men's eyes widened at the unnatural spectacle; their bravado evaporated. The scarred man recoiled, fumbling for his dagger. His companion froze mid-step.
Valen snapped the whip toward the swordsman. The fiery tip streaked for his chest. The man stumbled backward, tripping over his feet as flames licked toward his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning away with a whimper. A scream tore through the air as the lash seared his cheek. The sword clattered to the ground while he clutched his face, tears streaming.
Valen's gaze snapped to the dagger-wielder. With ease, he sent the flaming whip coiling around the man's wrist. Leather sizzled against flesh. The dagger fell as the man hissed, cradling his scorched hand. The scarred man retreated further back, fear etched deep.
As Valen reeled the whip back, flames licking toward the scarred man, he spoke with cold authority. "I'm guessing you've been snooping where you don't belong. The Crescent Moon, perhaps?" He bent to pluck the dagger from the dirt.
Valen stepped closer, eyes drifting to his companion writhing nearby. "As for your beastfolk hunt," he continued, gaze hardening, "you're playing a game beyond your depth." Valen hurled the dagger away; it thudded into damp earth yards off. "Stop while you draw breath. The flames of the underworld ride with me." With a twist of his arm, Valen unleashed a final warning.
The lash's fire twisted into crackling arcs of lightning. Ozone bit the air. The scarred man stumbled back, horror widening his eyes. "I will reduce your very souls to ash," Valen murmured, low and lethal, "long before the Reaper can collect." His grip tightened. Electricity surged brighter, humming like angry hornets. "Now," he commanded, the word a blade against silence. "Leave."
The men needed no further urging. They fled down the alley, footsteps slapping stone. The scarred one clutched his seared wrist, breath whistling through clenched teeth; his companion staggered behind, face twisted in agony. Valen watched shadows swallow them. Electricity died from his whip. As he turned, a crumpled parchment caught his eye. He pocketed it with a sigh, gathered the fallen weapons, and stepped inside. The door clicked shut. He leaned against it, heart hammering against his ribs.
"Mona?" Valen's call echoed softly through the house. She'd be terrified, and rightly so. Pain throbbed in his arm, a persistent ghost from the arcane power coursing his veins. He'd sworn off blood-magic after his last brush with death… yet protecting those who couldn't protect themselves outweighed his fear. Rubbing the wound, he felt the magic's warmth recede. Dangerous? Yes. But keeping Mona out of their clutches was worth any price. "It's all right," he murmured, gentleness belying the ache synced to his heartbeat. "You can come out now." He waited. Listening for attic whispers.
Silence stretched… Then Mona's footsteps whispered above. She crept down the ladder, pupils dilated like midnight pools. Her tail lashed against dusty rungs. "W-What was that?" The words trembled; she'd heard every thud, every magic crackle. Her eyes clung to Valen's face.
Valen met her stare, exhaustion carved into his features. "It seems those men were hunting you." His hand drifted to his arm, now a dull throb. "They reeked of the underground." Pain flickered across his expression as magic's residue faded. "Did you show your face while out?"
Mona froze mid-step, gaze locked on Valen's blood-soaked sleeve. Her tail hung limp as she edged closer. "N-no," she lied, voice trembling. "I-I was just explorin'." She swallowed, eyes darting away. "They wanted someone else." Her ears pinned back, a plea against blame.
"Possible," Valen murmured. His attention shifted to the crumpled parchment. He smoothed its charred edges, thumb tracing smudged ink. Eyes scanned the text, face impassive. "No mention of your hair's exact shade, but..." He looked up. "This bounty does seek beastfolk with 'hair of fine minerals.'" His stare pierced hers. "You truly don't believe they meant you?"
Mona's heart stuttered. Luna's silver hair flashed in her mind. "It... could be," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to Valen's bloodstained fingers. "But, they might want Luna from the Crescent Moon. Not me. She has silver fur!" Hope strained her voice.
Valen watched her, expression gentle. He rested a hand atop her head, palm warm against her fur. "It's okay," he murmured, thumb circling her brow. "I'm not angry, Mona. But caution is vital now." His sigh filled the silence as he scanned the room. "If hunters seek you, we don't know why, or who sent them." His hand tightened slightly. "Stay. Here. You're safe with me."
Mona leaned into Valen's palm, eyes shutting briefly. When they opened, resolve straightened her spine. Ears lifted. "Thank you," she breathed. "For protectin' me." Her yellow eyes shimmered. "But hidin' here for free feels... wrong."
Valen's thumb stilled. "Mona, you needn't act." A faint smile touched his lips. An idea bloomed. "Though... I could use eyes watching this place." Mischief sparked in his gaze. "How about you become my House Guard?" A hollow title, but it might soothe her worries.
Mona's nose quivered and her tail lashed with excitement. "Really?" Her voice broke with glee. "I'll guard everythin'!" Claws tapped the floorboards as she puffed her chest. "No bad guys will touch you or the house!"
Valen's smile deepened, ignoring his arm's throb. "I trust you," he said softly. Exhaustion dragged at him; he sagged against the door. Wood creaked. "It's late enough," he murmured. "That fight drained me." His eyes lowered to her anxious paws.
Valen nodded toward his bed. "Yours tonight," he murmured, voice rough with fatigue. "You've earned it, Guardian. Rest well." A pause. "And, welcome home."
Tears blurred Mona's vision. Luna's strange gesture from before flashed in her mind. She recalled that warmth she'd felt. She lunged, arms locking around Valen's waist. Clumsy, and a bit too tight. He hissed but hugged back, chuckle rumbling. "I'll be a good guard. Promise."
"Thank you," she choked into his shirt. "For... everythin'." She sprang away, cheeks blazing.He watched Mona leap onto the mattress, curl tight, tail encircling herself. Her breaths deepened. Sleep claimed her swiftly.
Valen sank into the bedside chair. The bounty parchment crumpled in his grip. Embers crackled, a brittle counter to Mona's steady breathing. Who hunted her? Why? Questions coiled like a haze. But tonight, stillness reigned. He'd move at dawn. For now, he guarded her peace, the house silent around them.