Chapter 37 – Echoes of Instinct
The cubs' laughter carried through the trees, soft and bright like the first warmth of dawn.
They were chasing Chyron's tail — or rather, the illusion of it. The fox had shifted halfway, teasing them with flickers of glowing fur that vanished just as tiny paws swiped at air. Their giggles came in bursts, echoing across the clearing, fearless and free.
It was the first time I'd heard joy sound that pure since I'd woken in this world.
Nox pretended not to notice, but I caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Luka sat a short distance away, mending a strap on his armor, though his eyes kept drifting toward the cubs too. Even the hardened edges of the camp felt softer beneath their laughter.
I leaned back against a sun-warmed stone, watching as the smaller cub stumbled over his own paws and tumbled into Chyron's lap. The fox froze, mock shock etched across his face before he let out an exaggerated sigh.
"You win," he said solemnly. "But only because you're tiny and unfairly adorable."
The cub puffed his chest, triumphant, while his brother giggled from behind a fern.
Their father, Drax, stood near the treeline, arms crossed. He didn't intervene — only watched, quiet and still, his unreadable gaze fixed on them.
There was pride there, yes. But something else too.
A shadow of fear.
(Maise's POV)
I found myself drawn to him — not just because of his strength or the raw grace that seemed to hum beneath his skin, but because of the way he looked at those cubs. As if he was always preparing to lose them.
When I approached, he didn't turn right away. His voice was low, careful. "You've given them something I couldn't."
I frowned. "What's that?"
He looked at me then — eyes like winter and smoke. "A reason to laugh."
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. The sunlight slipped through the canopy in fractured ribbons, dancing across his pale stripes.
"They need that," I said softly. "Even in a world like this."
He gave a slow nod. "Especially in a world like this."
One of the cubs shrieked with laughter again, chasing Chyron into a bush. Drax's lips twitched — barely, but it was there.
"They remind me what I'm fighting for," he murmured.
I didn't ask what he meant. I already knew.
(Drax's POV)
He hadn't planned to stay.
Not this long. Not near her.
The lioness was fire and calm woven into the same breath — fierce when danger rose, gentle in the quiet after. She moved through the camp with the grace of someone born to lead, though her scent still carried the faint strangeness of an outsider.
And yet the cubs adored her.
They followed her shadow as if it promised safety, curling against her side when she sat, sneaking glances as she spoke. The smaller one — Kian — had even fallen asleep curled around her tail the night before.
Drax had pretended not to see.
He couldn't afford to.
He'd already lost once — his mate, his home, his sense of what the future could be. The cubs were all that was left of that life, and he would not risk them again.
But when he saw her — Maise — kneel beside the fire and braid the smaller cub's fur to keep it out of his eyes, something in his chest ached in a way battle never could.
"You're staring again," Chyron said lazily from beside him, leaning against a tree.
Drax didn't answer.
The fox smirked. "She has that effect, doesn't she? Makes the careful ones forget how to breathe."
Drax's jaw tightened. "You talk too much."
Chyron only grinned wider. "And you think too much."
He left before Drax could respond, tail flicking in amusement.
Drax looked back toward the fire — to where Maise laughed softly as the cubs tumbled around her, her golden hair glowing in the light. The sound wrapped around him like something warm and dangerous.
He hadn't felt that in a long time.
(Maise's POV)
That night, as the cubs fell asleep curled in a tangle of fur and soft snores, Drax lingered by the edge of the campfire.
I sat opposite him, watching the light trace across his scars.
"They're strong," I said quietly.
"They have to be."
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "So do you."
He huffed, a sound that was almost a laugh. "Strength's not the same as peace."
"No," I said, eyes meeting his. "But sometimes it's how we get there."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy — it was full. Full of everything we hadn't said yet, full of the strange comfort of knowing neither of us was alone in the fight anymore.
The fire crackled softly, throwing sparks into the dark, and the cubs shifted in their sleep.
I looked toward them — two small lives, unbroken and safe for now — and then back to Drax.
He met my gaze, and something passed between us. Not a promise. Not yet.
But the start of one.