Saul's skin crawled as the whisper faded into the market's noise, the words about silver eyes sticking in his head like a thorn under his nail. The aura sense in his chest pulsed cold, distant but real, like unseen eyes tracking from the canopy. It wasn't the sly, teasing energy he'd felt from Vexa.
This was something else.
Sharper, watching and waiting.
Lira's grip on his arm tightened. Her nose twitched as she scanned the crowd. "Silver eyes? That's just Vexa trying to stir shadows again." Her voice dropped lower, tail lashing once behind her. "Or maybe Silverclaws. Rivals getting too close. We should check the ridge, quick sweep only. No deep dive."
Saul nodded, his pulse picking up. The laughter and chatter of the market suddenly felt thin, like a fragile cover over something much darker. "Lead the way. But if it's trouble, we call the pack. No solo hero act."
They slipped out of the square, passing huts where the first fires of evening crackled to life. The sun was already sinking, the jungle glowing in shades of gold and red as long shadows stretched through the leaves.
Lira moved quietly, steps light and sure. Saul kept pace beside her, the new stamina echo thrumming through his body. The fatigue he'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by a steady drive that matched her rhythm.
At the ridge, a narrow trail twisted upward through tangled roots and thorns. Lira crouched near the base, fingers brushing the dirt. "Fresh prints," she murmured. "Not boar. Too light, too sharp."
She traced a thin arc in the mud, shaped like a hook. "Cat scout. Probably Silverclaw. Testing our border again."
Saul knelt beside her, and the system pulsed faintly in his mind.
[Scan: Claw Mark - Scout Trail, +3 Points]
A faint gray aura rose from the mark and sank into his palm, cool and fleeting. It didn't boost much, but it sharpened the air around him, his senses narrowing in on every sound and movement. "Testing for what? Looking for weaknesses… or looking for us?"
Lira's jaw tightened. "Us. You, especially. Word's out. The new mark draws attention. They'll want to know what kind of storm we're sheltering." She stood and brushed the dirt from her hands. "Nothing more tonight. Patrol will sweep it at dawn. Let's head back before dark."
The walk down felt quieter. The easy rhythm from the market was gone, replaced by alert silence. When they reached her hut, Lira bumped his shoulder lightly, a spark of her usual teasing back in her eyes.
"Don't brood, storm-boy. Ghosts and scouts both can wait until sunrise. You need food first."
Inside, the fire pit glowed warm, throwing reed shadows that danced across the walls. Lira stirred a pot, tossing in roots and dried meat that sizzled as they hit the broth. Saul dropped down onto the furs, muscles still humming from the climb. The mark on his chest throbbed faintly, not from pain, but from something warmer, almost like approval.
"Smells better than my cooking," he said, leaning back. "What's the secret? Magic or just better roots?"
Lira looked over her shoulder, flashing a grin. "Roots and spite. Yours tasted like failure." The stew bubbled rich and earthy. She ladled it into two bowls and sat beside him, close enough that their thighs touched. "Eat. You'll need strength for whatever tomorrow throws at us."
They ate quietly, the clink of spoons and crackle of fire filling the gaps. Saul watched her out of the corner of his eye. The flames caught the gold in her fur, turning it to bronze. He remembered her laugh from earlier, the warmth of her hand on his arm, the way she made the village feel less like a cage.
"You know," he said, "back home, dinners were never like this. Wine, deals, fake smiles. Always a power play. This feels... real. Like a truce."
Lira set her bowl down and licked a drop of stew from her thumb, slow and deliberate. Her gaze locked with him. "Truce? Or something more?" Her voice dropped low, tail brushing his leg. "We don't do truces, Saul. We claim, but claim comes under two meanings, claimed by love or claimed by order."
His chest tightened, heat spreading through his gut. He set his bowl aside, his hand finding her knee. His thumb traced the seam of her leather hide, rough and warm under his fingers. "Claim, huh? That a threat or a promise?"
She leaned closer, her scent wrapping around him with smoke, herbs, and the wild musk of the forest. "Depends how bold you are, foreign-man." Her claws brushed up his arm, tracing the mark on his chest. "This needs new salve. Hold still."
Her touch was gentle at first, cool paste against the burn of his skin. But her movements slowed, lingered, her palm flattening against his chest. The pressure sent a pulse through him, sharp and electric. Her eyes met him again, pupils wide, voice barely a whisper.
"Steady..."
He caught her wrist gently, turning her hand to kiss her knuckles, just like that morning. "Lira..." The name came out rough, tangled between breath and need.
She leaned in until their foreheads touched, breath warm against his lips. "No ghosts tonight."
The words broke whatever restraint was left between them. Their mouths met, the kiss fierce and hungry. The fire cracked louder as they sank into the furs, hands roaming, bodies finding rhythm. Her growls turned to sighs against his skin. The mark pulsed once, then steadied, heat rolling through him like a tide.
The night blurred into touch and breath, until exhaustion dragged them both into quiet stillness.
When the world settled again, she lay across his chest, her tail draped over his leg like a mark of her own. The fire had burned low, stars peeking through the reed roof. The hum of the mark had changed and it felt balanced, calm.
"Feels real," Saul murmured, voice rough. "You do."
Lira lifted her head, her eyes were soft and steady. "it always looks like the mark just proves it." She pressed a small kiss to his collarbone.
"Tell me more about your ghosts of past, or don't. Your choice."
He hesitated, then the words spilled out. He told her about Juvia, the jet, the crash, the empire that built him and broke him. How every win had felt hollow. "I thought power was the goal," he said quietly. "Turns out it was just noise. This... this is what feels real."
She kissed the mark again, softer this time. "Then hold onto it. You're pack now. Mine too, if you want."
He smiled faintly. "I want this forever but am i ok for you...."
They kissed again, slower this time, sealing the promise.
A faint green shimmer rose from the furs around them, the system pulsing quietly in the back of his mind.
[Bond Tease Unlocked: +15 Points from intimate shares]
He ignored the system's glow and closed his eyes. For once, it didn't feel like control or reward. It just felt right. Lira stirred when the moon climbed high. She slipped from the furs, banking the fire and whispering, "Sleep, storm-boy. Dawn brings patrols... and that cave call."
Saul nodded, sinking into the warmth. But just as he started to drift, the system flickered hard, flashing an error across his vision.
[Corrupted God Seal? Fragment detected]
His heart jumped. "What the hell...."
Before he could finish, a howl tore through the night, sharp and close.
"Silverclaws at the ridge!"
Lira bolted upright, claws extended. Saul grabbed his dagger, the peace of the night shattered in an instant. Whatever waited at that ridge wasn't done with them yet?