Morning settled gently into the inn. This time, light came not only through the cracks of the shutters, but also through the windows they had finally opened and scrubbed clean. Fresh air circulated, carrying scents of sap and damp dust.
Mie was the first one up. Her ears, still crumpled with sleep, twitched faintly as she padded barefoot down the stairs. She dragged a bucket of water nearly too big for her, set it by the hearth, and began preparing the fire just as Terence had shown her. She blew too hard, scattered a few twigs, but the spark caught anyway.
Terence arrived soon after, surprised to see her already crouched by the fireplace."You remembered well," he said, kneeling to help her. "Less force with the breath—let the flame rise on its own."
Mie nodded gravely, ears tilted forward.
Nyala was last to appear, a yawn on her lips and arms stretched high toward the ceiling. She arched her back in a long stretch, her feline silhouette outlined in the morning glow, then sat down beside Terence without hesitation—nearly leaning against his arm."Mmm… smells like warm wood," she sighed. "I like waking up to that."
Terence rolled his eyes, though a faint smile crept across his face. The air felt more and more like a home.
By midmorning, he decided to try something beyond cleaning. The inn was full of broken objects, useless utensils—but with some effort, a few might be salvaged. He set himself at a table with an old knife, its blade loose, a wooden grip, and a worn piece of cord.
The first attempt was a failure: the handle split. The second too. But on the third, his fingers found the right angle. His movements steadier, he shaped the wood, bound it, tested the grip. The blade held. Not perfect, but functional.
"Already fixed?" Nyala asked, leaning against a chair back, arms crossed. "What are you, some kind of magic fingers?"
"Just… a lot of tries," Terence replied.
He didn't speak the word Routine, but it hovered in his mind. His hands were learning fast. Too fast to be natural.
Mie watched with wide, dazzled eyes. She tried to copy him with a bit of cord, but her small fingers tangled immediately. Nyala burst out laughing and helped her undo the knot.
After tinkering, Terence turned to his culinary experiments. He had set aside some fruit they'd picked the day before, and a little coarse sugar Nyala had brought back. He tried reducing the juice into a jelly. The first pot yielded watery mush. The second boiled over, hissing into the fire. The third… finally set.
The dark red liquid wobbled softly in a chipped clay pot. Terence let it cool, a little nervous.
Mie was first to taste. She bit gently, her small incisors flashing. Her eyes lit at once."It's funny to bite! It wiggles!"
Nyala, skeptical, tried a piece. She wrinkled her nose."What is this thing that moves?"
But once she bit, her eyes widened, and her tail thumped the air unconsciously."Hmmm… not bad… fine, it's edible. Give me another."
Terence raised a brow."You just said it was weird."
"Yeah, but… still edible." (She grabbed the last pot and kept it for herself, cross-legged in the corner.)
Mie protested, and soon the two were bickering playfully over the leftovers. Terence sighed, but warmth spread through his chest at the sight: two sisters already squabbling.
That afternoon, Nyala helped Mie adjust her new dresses. She spun the girl around, tugged at a hem, then declared with a grin:"Not bad. You almost look like a real young lady now."
Mie blushed, but laughed as she leaned against her side. The two stuck together the rest of the day. They climbed upstairs to spy on Terence while he worked, whispering plots to steal some jelly. When they returned, hand in hand, they looked as if they had always lived this way.
Nyala, meanwhile, grew bolder with Terence. When he cooked a broth, she leaned over his shoulder, chin nearly brushing it."Smells good… can I taste?"
Terence froze, ears burning red."Wait until it's ready."
She chuckled, her tail flicking.
When he tried to move tables in the common room, she perched on one and stayed seated, legs crossed."You want this one moved? Then you'll have to ask nicely."
He glared, exasperated."Nyala…"
"Come on, say it. 'Please move.'"
He relented, and she burst out laughing before hopping to the ground with feline ease.
That evening, during dinner, Nyala dropped a small pouch on the table. She shook it, and a metallic jingle filled the room. She spilled the contents before them: a handful of tarnished copper coins, two of silver, and a single gold coin glimmering faintly in the firelight.
"Alright," she said, arms crossed. "Crash course for you newbies. This—this is a Scael, copper coin. Ten Scael make a Drenn, silver. Ten Drenn, a Veyr, gold. Simple."
Mie leaned close, eyes wide on the coins."Scael… Drenn… Veyr," she repeated like a magic spell.
"Good, student," Nyala said, patting her head. "Now—a hot meal at an inn, that's two Scael. A room, five. A decent pair of boots, two Drenn. And a fire or water magic stone? That'll run you three to five Drenn apiece."
Terence frowned."That's expensive."
"Basic survival," Nyala countered. "Heating, washing, cooking. Pricey, but they last for years if you use them right."
Mie grabbed a Scael, clutched it tight in her small palm, and declared gravely:"I pay two Scael for jelly!"
Nyala burst out laughing, her tail lashing."There you go—you've already got the basics of trade down!"
Terence studied the coins longer, turning them in his fingers. He tried to imagine what his little creations might fetch—and whether he could defend their worth against a merchant.
Nyala noticed, her smile softening."Don't worry. We'll learn together. But get the basics down. Otherwise, you'll come back from town with empty pockets—and I'll scold you."
"I get it," he sighed.
"Repeat," she ordered.
He rolled his eyes."Scael. Drenn. Veyr."
Mie instantly echoed, far too proud:"Scael! Drenn! Veyr!"
Nyala laughed again."Perfect—Mie's already more ready than you."
Terence let out a long sigh, though the corner of his lips betrayed a smile.
After the little lesson, they tasted Terence's broth. This time, it was truly a success. The vegetables melted, the meat added depth, and dried fruit for dessert brought a sweet finish.
Mie puffed out her cheeks like a hamster, Nyala nearly purred as she ate—then pretended to critique."It's… edible. Barely. Give me more."
Terence burst out laughing.
When the meal ended, Mie went up to bed, her ears drooping with her yawns. Terence and Nyala stayed by the fire. The embers glowed red, shadows stretching across the walls.
"I don't think we can keep going like this," Terence said after a long silence.
Nyala raised a brow."Like this?"
"Depending on you."
She tilted her head, ears erect."Doesn't bother me. It's my role. I bring food, clothes, protection… Works fine for me."
Terence clenched his fists on his knees."That's the problem. So far, everything comes from you. The meat, the clothes, even the sugar I used for the jelly. I cook, I fix things… but without you, we'd have nothing. I want to contribute too. Not be a burden."
Silence lingered, broken only by the crackle of wood.
Nyala studied him, her playful smile gone. Her golden eyes, more serious than usual, locked on his. Then she spoke softly:"…Idiot."
Terence blinked."What?"
She sighed, shook her head, then leaned closer. Without warning, she rested her head on his shoulder. Her tail brushed lazily against his leg."You're not a burden. You give a roof. You give fire. You give Mie a normal life. That's already more than many men."
Terence felt her warmth against him. His cheeks flushed despite himself. He tried to protest, but no words came.
Nyala, too, had colored faintly, though she fought to keep her tone steady."But if you want to sell, to build, to take part more… then I'll be there. We'll do it together. Got it?"
He nodded, unable to hold her gaze any longer."Got it."
They stayed that way for a few seconds, shoulder to shoulder, cheeks warm, silence sweeter than any words. Then Nyala pulled back slightly, lips curling into a teasing grin."…But you're still an idiot."
Terence looked away, but a quiet laugh slipped out.
Their eyes met, and silence returned. Not cold, not heavy. A gentle quiet that warmed more than the fire. Terence turned aside, fumbling for words."Anyway… you spend more time here than anywhere else."
Nyala blinked, then quickly looked away. Her ears tinged red."Mh… maybe so."
She rose suddenly, stretched her arms, and said in a falsely casual tone:"Well, I'm off to sleep in my room."
Terence watched her leave, her soft steps echoing in the hall. He sat a while longer by the fire, thoughtful. The house was no longer just a shelter. It was becoming a home.