Sunlight snuck through the gaps in Lira's hut walls like it had a secret to spill, streaking faint gold across the furs where I lay. I stirred with a low groan, every bit of me aching like I'd tangled with a storm and lost. The brand on my chest throbbed steady, a hot reminder of last night's fire, matching the foggy pound in my skull. Those flames hadn't just lit the night—they'd sunk claws in deep.
I shifted careful on the pallet, the rough weave tugging at the salve-crusted mark. The Fang swirl glared back at me, edges raw and red, twisting like a dare etched in skin. The hut kept it simple: reed walls draped with bone keepsakes, a dying fire pit in the corner, and Lira's scent everywhere, all musk and fresh earth, curling around me comfortable as an old coat I didn't mind wearing.
Lira? Already up, hunkered by the fire, stirring some green sludge in a clay pot that steamed inviting. Her back to me, hides hugging her hips just so, tail giving lazy flicks like she felt my stare without turning. Light caught the soft fur on her ears, painting her half-feral, half-warm welcome, and damn if my blood didn't warm a touch despite the hurt.
"Morning, storm-boy," she tossed over her shoulder, voice gravelly from the night's howls and whatever chased them. "You snore like a cub stuffed on fresh kill."
I propped up slow, swallowing another wince. "Blame the blaze. Or the pack. Or that alpha turning my chest into her doodle pad."
My fingers tested the scabs' pull. Hurt like hell, sure, but it carried a quiet buzz too, like I'd inked a badge that whispered "you're in," even if it was trial by fire.
She chuckled deep, ladling the green mush into a bowl. Bare feet padding soft, she dropped to her knees beside me, thigh brushing mine easy. Close up, her amber eyes held that festival afterglow, wide and knowing, like she'd seen secrets in the smoke.
"Sable's mark ain't just for show. It's a vow. You wear it, you stand with us. Bleed for us." Her gaze dipped to the brand, tracing it slow like she was committing it to memory. "And who knows... maybe bond deeper down the line."
Heat crept up my neck, but I met her eyes steady. "So last night was tryouts?"
"Kinda." She scooped salve on two fingers, the sharp pine-mint bite cutting the haze. "Hold. It'll bite, but it'll knit you whole."
I braced, but her touch hit different. Cool paste spread deliberate, following the Fang's lines with a care that softened her fighter's grip. Fingers lingered on the edges, pressing light, chasing sparks that eased the burn and stirred something quieter, deeper in my chest.
Breath snagged, and she caught it, lips quirking sly. "Steady, Saul. You're still green around the edges. Wouldn't want you cracking before the real trails call."
Her hand drifted lower, extra salve on my abs, fingers fanning wide over the faint lines there. Leftover smoke in my veins turned every graze to kindling, lighting me slow. I felt the pull low, insistent, ignoring the bone-deep ache.
She didn't back off. Scooted nearer instead, thigh warm against mine, chasing the morning chill. "Whole pack had eyes on you last night. Waiting for the snap." Her whisper dropped husky, leaning in till her breath tickled my ear. "Vexa's tail wouldn't quit twitching, like she plotted a midnight steal. And Sable... hell, that look when she set the needle. Like you were a riddle begging her solve."
Pulse jumped, flashes hitting: drums thundering, shadows dancing, sighs lacing the songs. Their pull had tugged raw then, all instinct and invite. Now, with Lira's claws grazing my hip, it landed heavier. "You?" I rasped, voice thick. "What'd you see worth keeping?"
Eyes fierce, open. "You, storm-boy. Every stubborn inch." Her palm cupped my jaw, thumb ghosting my lip, and for a beat, the air hung thick, like she'd bridge it any second.
But she eased back, puffing cool over the salve. Relief tangled with a frustrated spark, pulling a rumble from my throat.
"Bank that heat," she teased, rising fluid and offering a hand. "Training waits. Can't lose my stray to a limp on patrol one."
I grabbed hold, her pull steadying the spin. World wobbled, but her grip anchored—rough calluses hiding that palm-soft give, saying she was steel wrapped in something real.
"Training? Menu got more dances?"
She snorted, slinging a waterskin. "Tracks and shadows first. Jungle rules. You stomp like a boar in brambles now, but come noon? You'll slip like mist." Tail flicked my calf on exit, sting playful. "Or I'll drag it out of you."
Outside, Shadowfang woke lazy under climbing sun. Huts hunkered solid, smoke twisting from cookfires where wolves prodded breakfast—river fish skewered crisp, roots charred sweet. Nods came our way, eyes sliding over me curious-warm, one spotted lynx swaying past with a wink, fang-flash quick. The mark on my chest hummed, like it tuned to their glances.
Lira steered us past the pit's ashen bones, into jungle fringe thick and humming. Air turned muggy fast, birds calling sharp, leaves rustling secrets. Vines hung lazy, red blooms fat and sticky with bug-song. Pretty as a trap, every shade hiding fangs.
"Start here," she crouched by a snapped twig, voice low. "Signs tell tales. Grass bend says weight, fresh or faded."
Fingers skimmed the break feather-light, and yeah, it yanked my mind back to her touch. "This? Boar trail, yesterday. Northbound, belly empty."
I mirrored, dirt soft under knees. "That smear?" I nodded to a dark streak on low branch, tacky.
She leaned close, shoulders bumping, her scent hitting full—wild and close. "Sap base. Scratches hide claws. Small curve. Cat scout."
Breath on my neck sent a shiver south. "Silverclaw likely. Pushy this close to moon's tail."
Gut knotted. Silverclaw. Vexa's sly words from the fire echoed, rivals nosing borders. "How pushy?"
"Too much." She rose, scanning canopy sharp. "Your turn. Steps now."
Training hit hard. Lira flowed silent, vanishing into green like smoke. Me? Crashing loud, every crack drawing her hiss. She'd loop back, hands on my waist tweaking stance: hips loose, toes light, no tail so lean on balance. Fingers dug steady, half-guide, half-spark.
"Ease those hips, Saul. Stalk like prey's a promise you mean to keep."
Sweat soaked me by mid-morn, cloth chafing distracting. We broke into a fern-ringed clearing, sun spotting moss gold.
"Spar time," she dropped low, hides riding thighs high, flashing muscle tone and a curve-glimpse that dried my mouth.
"Down you go. No claws, no teeth. Body only."
Grin tugged, blood humming. "Sure? Last pin was over deal papers."
"Less jaw." She sprang.
Blur hit the shoulder to chest, leg hook, bam, back to grass, wind punched out. She straddled hips, thighs vise-tight, pinning arms. Close, her chest rose quick against ties, shadows teasing through hide, tail coiling my calf claim-like. Face inches off, lips parted, breath ragged hot.
"Slow as mud," she growled, but eyes sparked playful, not mad.
She nudged once, deliberate, drawing my laugh tangled with hers, warmth a quiet hook, gazes locking longer than spar called for.
The pull jumped, caught between us, her roll subtle fanning it. "That's the storm I spotted. Wield it."
I twisted up, surge rolling us. Grass tickled elbows as I topped, her legs vine-wrapping my waist. Laugh wild, she arched testy, claws pricking cloth light on my back.
Faces near enough to taste her air, sweat-herbs dizzying. "Sharper," she breathed, nails trailing spine soft. "Earn the welcome, storm-boy. Hold like you'd claim under stars, meaning every beat."
Words dangled heavy, dare and draw, and for a heart-skip, I nearly did, dive in, chase that heat home.
But a howl cracked distant, ridge-sharp.
Lira shoved free, cursing as she rolled up. "Hunt call. Meat waits. Stick tight."
We tracked swift, razor-pigs rooting noisy. Lira signed quiet: wide loop, fast strike. I held edge first, scanning. Then—glowing vines snaked a trunk, blue-pulse faint like buried lights.
[System: F-GRADE LUMEN VINES (Energy Bind).
Scan Done: +15 LP. Total: 101/100.]
[Overflow: Basic Stats
Unlock. Str +2, Agi +3, Vit +1.
Full Wake Needs Sect Core.]
Power washed subtle, then crisp. Arms lightened, legs spring-coiled. Mark warmed, faint glow under wrap, bone-hum stirring old echoes.
God nudge? Or leash?
Bold now, I dove with Lira. Pigs bolted squealing, but I snagged flank, agi lightning-fast. Grip locked, vines lashing legs instinct. Thrash came, but I held, stone knife sinking clean.
Blood hot spray, Lira whooped, dagger ending her pair.
"Saul's fire!" She hauled carcass, eyes wide shock-warm. "Where'd that come from? You ghosted like kin."
Wiped brow, strength settling easy. "Rhythm hit."
But doubt flickered. Mark's glow? Not pack weave. Felt... apart. Scroll eyes, maybe, the dump that birthed me here.
We lugged kills village-fringe by noon, sun hammering. Shadowfang hummed: water hauls, kid glow-bug chases, forge clang steady.
Vexa melted from hut shade as we dropped pigs, russet tail sly-sway. Lean mischief in loose hides teasing cleavage per step.
"Solid catch, tailless." Purr rolled, eyes raking sweat-damp cloth to bandaged chest slow.
Close-stepped, tail flick lingering thigh spark. "Heard you took Sable's bite like born to it. Whispers fly. But need honing, yeah?"
Lira growled soft, shouldering in with kill. "Ease off, fox. He's my green to temper."
Vexa laughed light, gaze clinging mine. "Just chat, storm-boy. Silver shades creep close, east trail clawed fresh-deep." Jungle nod, fingers arm-brush casual-nail-graze. "Cave out there, though. Crystals pulse moon-wild, sharpening a guy's bite till pack leans in." Tongue lip-flick, eyes pointed drop.
"For the fang's good, right? Dawn meet. I'll lead."
Lira's tail snapped, but Vexa dissolved crowd-ward, hips dare-sway. Warning caught: Silvers in, borders hot. Cave? Hook in hazard.
Mark tingled, glow insistent, god-whisper: Chase. Sharpen. Or fade.
Afternoon blurred skin-share, spits roasting fat-drip sizzle. Pack loose-circle, tales smoke-laced: raids old, mates lost, moon-pull wild.
Lira close-kneed as we ate, hand thigh-under-log squeeze warm. "Ditch the fox talk," she muttered, fingers firm. "All flash, no fang. But scratches... truth. Sniffers near."
Nodded, pork tough-chew, new strength skin-close. "Hunt 'em first then. More lessons tomorrow?"
Eyes fired, fierce-soft mix. "Pact. But tonight..." Lean-in, lips ear-brush, gravel-low. "Heal up. 'Cause ready? I'll show how Shadowfang holds tight."
Sun bled sky red, drums faint-restart, night-wild call like tease you couldn't shake.
Gut pulled harder, system hum pulse-match. Mark glowed torch-subtle, pack-blind but mine-clear, rib-lick secret flame.
Vow. Snare.
Shadows past fire, silver claws scraped fence-soft, smoke-taste near. Hunt true? Flicker-warm.
But as Vexa's tail vanished dark, eyes mine-lock sly hungry, truth hit:
First fang might slip from within, cave-call or claw-strike, dawn deciding if I rose pack or prey.