The house had found a new rhythm in Nyala's absence. Aveline had taken a small upstairs room and—more importantly—the old storeroom on the ground floor had been cleared and turned into an improvised workshop. The patched shelves already sagged under jars, dried herbs, and vials in strange colors. The smell of angelica, sage, and vegetal powders carried all the way to the common room.
Terence and Mie helped as best they could—clumsy sweeping, a few spilled buckets. The result wasn't perfect, but the place had come back to life. Aveline, distant as ever, still thanked them in a sincere voice.
But that morning, as Terence stacked wood by the hearth, a familiar sound sliced the clearing's quiet: soft, regular steps—and the faint sway of a tail he would have recognized anywhere.
The door flew open. Nyala was back.
She stepped in covered in dust, a fine scratch across her cheek, boots worn by the road. But her feline smile shone like a victory."I'm home!" she announced, arms wide.
Mie leapt from her bench, ears up, and threw herself into her arms."Nyala! I missed you!"
Nyala hoisted her easily and spun her before hugging tight."You too, little ears. Did you eat well? Take care of the fire?"
Mie nodded vigorously. Terence had come closer, ready to say something, but Nyala fixed on him at once, nostrils flaring.
Her brow furrowed."…Smells like someone else lives here."
Before he could answer, a door banged at the foot of the stairs. Aveline stepped out of her workshop with a vial in hand. Her light chestnut hair was a mess, her apron stained with herbs. She halted when she saw Nyala—and the caracal's golden eyes locked with hers in a feline spark.
"So," Nyala said, mocking, "I leave for a few days and you recruit an alchemist? Even give her a room to play at her little lab under my nose?"
Aveline met her gaze—polite but firm."I only accepted a roof and a place to work. Nothing more."
The tone was neutral, every word crisp.
Terence raised his hands, uneasy."Listen—"
"That just means we're even more of a family!" Mie burst out, eyes shining.
Silence. Terence choked, Aveline looked away and tightened her grip on the vial, and Nyala… blushed, her ears pinning back."…Tch. You talk too much, little ears," she muttered.
That evening, all four of them gathered for their first real meal together. Terence had made a stew of vegetables and meat, with dried fruit for dessert. He'd done his best, but the mood weighed on every gesture.
Nyala sat firmly at his side—almost pressed against him—her tail beating the air behind her. Aveline sat across, straight and dignified.
She tasted the first spoonful and said in an analytical tone,"Even cook, seasoning simple but effective. Missing a touch of fresh herb… but it's very good."
Nyala snickered."Honest. I'd say it lacks salt and smells a bit burnt."
"It does not smell burnt," Terence protested.
"It does," Nyala said with a predatory smile. "Just a little."
Aveline arched a brow, ready with a retort—but held her tongue. The tension floated between them like a taut rope.
Then came the incident. Aveline half rose to reach a carafe across the table. Her bodice, already too tight, gaped for an instant—revealing more than it should. Terence turned away at once, scarlet.
Watching, Nyala frowned—then jabbed him under the table with her elbow."Idiot," she whispered in his ear.
Terence jumped, nearly spilling his bowl. Mie peered at them, puzzled.
The meal went on—barbs, silences, and a few forced chuckles. At the end, Mie took the last bite of dessert and offered it first to Nyala, then to Aveline. Both refused—too proud. So she popped it into her mouth at once, ears quivering with delight."There! Problem solved!"
Even Terence couldn't help laughing.
Nyala walked into Terence's room as if it were her own. She'd shed her leather gear for light sleepwear: a short top that bared her flat stomach yet still framed the curve of her chest, and loose pants that floated a little but still traced her hips when she moved. Terence had seen her in fitted adventurer's clothes before, but this was different: not Nyala of the forest or the fight—Nyala, private, in his room. And it changed everything.
He pushed halfway up from the bed, ill at ease."What are you planning to do?"
"Sleep here," she answered as if it were obvious.
"What?! But… why?"
"To keep an eye on you, idiot. You think I'm going to sleep easy now that a big-chested woman has her workshop right downstairs from you?"
Terence flushed—part anger, part embarrassment."That's not what this is."
"No? She's got a room, a place to work… that's called moving in. I go on missions with Rovan—he doesn't live here."
Terence scowled, protesting awkwardly,"That doesn't change that… boys…"
"Shut up," she cut, ears red. "It's not the same."
He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed."I saw Aveline thrown out of her workshop by the guild. She'd lost everything—her vials, her tools, her right to work. Do you really think I could have shut the door and pretended nothing happened?"
Nyala looked away, worrying her lip."You've got too much heart," she murmured. "I like it… and it annoys me."
Without warning, she flipped the cover back and slid into the bed.
"Nyala!" Terence protested, blazing red.
"Too late. If you think I'm leaving you alone, dream on."
She settled with her back to the wall, drawing her knees up. The red on her cheeks betrayed the awkwardness she tried to hide under bravado. Her too-short top bared her stomach with each breath; and even if her chest was smaller than Aveline's, the way she wore it suited her just fine.
Terence looked away, stiff as a statue."You could at least… cover up."
Nyala let out a nervous chuckle."What, does it bother you? Maybe you prefer the other one's overflow?"
"Nyala!"
She turned—predatory grin, trembling ears."Idiot."
They stayed still for a while. The air hummed with awkwardness. Nyala stared at the ceiling, heart pounding too fast. What am I even doing…
Terence didn't dare move—afraid the slightest touch would make the situation unbearable.
At last Nyala tugged the blanket up and burrowed half into it."Good night, idiot," she whispered more softly.
He closed his eyes, unable to sleep. In the dark, the warmth of their bodies filled the room with a strange tension. Nyala was still blushing—but a small, private smile escaped her despite herself.I don't know what I'm doing… but I want to stay right here.