Night fell in the Valley after the the old friendship was rekindling again...
They returned to camp together, Vael chattering about tomorrow's training, Eivor asking a thousand questions about Beastkin customs.
When they reached Violet's tent, Vael paused. "Hey."
She turned.
"So what are you here for?," he said. "Can't you just tell me? I won't tell anyone... I promise."
He blinks and felt a warm embrace around him.
Violet hugged him, and her throat tightened, "I can't, all I want to do is, turn the story into lie, a nightmare that never existed in the first place...
So I can't tell if I did it might be truth but I won't let it happen."
Vael scratched his head, "I don't understand... I am sorry..."
"Don't be sorry, just be happy you dumb dog..." Violet snickered and eased her arms.
"I am wolf!"He yelled and ran off, tail wagging.
Eivor watched him go. "He's a good kid."
"Yeah," Violet whispered. "He is."
***
Inside the tent, Violet lay down, staring at the canvas ceiling.
"Tomorrow," she thought. Tomorrow I'll convince Kael. Tomorrow I'll—*"
A bell chimed.
Soft, delicate, musical.
Her eyes snapped open.
The sound came from her satchel.
Heart pounding, she pulled it out—a wooden plate etched with runes, tiny bells attached to its edges. The messenger arrow receiver.
She'd almost forgotten she had it.
A messenger arrow was approaching...
Moving quickly, she stepped outside and placed the plate on the ground, making sure nothing obstructed the sky.
She waited.
Seconds passed.
Then—a whistle. A flash of movement.
The arrow struck the plate with a soft *thunk*, embedding itself perfectly in the center.
Violet pulled it free, fingers trembling.
The message was short. Garrett's handwriting.
Calla is coming. Informer in nearby city spotted her. She will be around in 16 hours. She'll reach Greyhollow by tomorrow evening. Be careful. —
Violet's blood turned to ice.
***
Tomorrow evening.
She looked at the sky. Dawn was hours away.
Her hand moved to her pocket, fingers brushing the soft white feather tucked inside.
She pulled it out.
One chance.
"Kanum," she whispered.
***
The world twisted.
White light consumed her vision. Her stomach lurched. The ground disappeared—
—and reappeared.
She stumbled, catching herself against a familiar wall.
Her room.
The cottage.
Home.
The smell hit her first—smoke and bread and lavender. The sounds followed—Maria humming in the kitchen, the crackle of the fire.
"Mama," Violet breathed.
Footsteps. The door opened.
Maria stood there, flour on her apron, hair tied back, eyes widening.
"Violet?!"
***
Maria dropped the spoon she'd been holding and ran.
She crashed into Violet like a wave, arms wrapping tight, pulling her close, clutching her as if she might vanish again.
"Oh gods, oh my little bird, you're here, you're really here—"
Violet's knees buckled. She buried her face in Maria's shoulder and sobbed.
"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Shh, no, don't—" Maria's hands cradled her head, her back, holding her together. "You're home. That's all that matters."
They sank to the floor together, Violet clinging like a child, Maria rocking her gently.
"Did you eat?" Maria whispered. "Are you hurt? Did anyone—"
"I'm fine," Violet choked out. "I'm okay, Mama, I'm okay—"
Maria pulled back just enough to cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. "Let me see you."
She scanned Violet's face, her hands, checking for injuries with the practiced efficiency of a mother who'd tended a sick child for years.
"You've lost weight," Maria said, frowning. "And you're pale. Have you been sleeping? Eating enough? Taking your medicine?"
Violet laughed through her tears. "I'm fine. Really."
Maria didn't look convinced. But she pulled Violet close again, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too."
***
The door opened.
Garrett stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Then he saw Violet.
His eyes softened. "So you got the letter."
Violet nodded, pulling away from Maria slowly. "It was fast."
"Fastest route," Garrett said. He stepped inside, closing the door. "Direct path. No detours."
He stood there for a moment, just looking at her.
Then sat down heavily at the table.
Violet stared at him.
She wanted to run to him like she had with Maria. Wanted to throw her arms around him and feel his steady strength.
But something held her back.
A strange hesitation she didn't understand.
Her hands curled into fists.
"What's wrong with me?"
Garrett noticed. His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
"Sit," he said instead. "You must be hungry."
***
Maria bustled around the kitchen, pulling out bread and cheese and leftover stew. She kept glancing at Violet as if afraid she'd disappear.
Violet sat across from Garrett, hands in her lap.
"How was the journey?" he asked.
"Long," she said. "But… necessary." Violet looked down, for some reason she didn't had any self respect to meet his eyes.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Garrett sat down slowly.
She nodded. "I think so."
Garrett studied her. "You've changed."
Violet's breath caught. "Have I?"
"You carry yourself different." He leaned back. "Whatever is happening, you need to stay stronger."
Maria set a bowl in front of Violet. "Eat."
Violet obeyed, the familiar taste of Maria's cooking bringing fresh tears to her eyes.
They ate in comfortable silence, the fire crackling, the world outside quiet and cold.
For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
Like she was just Violet, and they were just her family, and the future was still unwritten.
***
But then Maria spoke.
"Calla sent word," she said quietly. "She's coming tomorrow."
Violet's spoon stilled.
Garrett's jaw tightened. "We got the message this morning. She'll be here by evening."
Maria's hands trembled slightly. "I don't know why, but… something feels wrong."
Violet set her spoon down. "Mama—"
A knock.
Sharp. Deliberate.
Too early for dawn. Too late for visitors.
They all froze.
The knock came again.
Garrett stood slowly, hand moving to the knife at his belt.
Maria's face went pale.
Violet's heart hammered.
The door opened.
And there stood Calla—white cloak dusted with snow, green eyes bright behind her spectacles, that same gentle smile that hid a thousand faces.
"There's my little bird," she said softly.