Morning light once again. Outside, the clamor of a crowd. Valen opened his eyes, stretched, and winced as old aches announced themselves. He sat up. Mona was curled tight in the next bed, the crumpled parchment clutched in her fist. He nudged her boot with his.
"Sun's up," he murmured. "Festival waits for no one."
Mona stirred. Disorientation bled away, replaced by yesterday's thrill. She sat up, tail flicking toward him. "Awright," she mumbled, groggy. "Le's go."
***
The streets looked as if gold petals rained from the skies above. Scents of roasting nuts and warm bread filled the streets. Mona gawked at vendors hawking wreaths, bright cloth, crackling seed pans. Children wove through stalls, their laughter sharp against the crowd. Valen kept a heavy hand on her shoulder. Half protection, half guidance.
He nudged her toward a stall spilling over with fabric. "Your pick," he said. She hesitated, shooting a look back at him as she sheepishly approached the clothing. "Whatever catches your eye."
Mona froze before the colorful array. She crept forward, tail twitching, and brushed her fingertips over velvet. "Oh, Valen." She held up a sunflower-yellow dress, the fabric trembling in her grasp. "It's... different." She clutched it to her chest, eyes blazing. "Can I?"
Valen chuckled. "Go ahead."
She pulled the yellow dress on over her worn clothes.
Valen reached to stop her. "Mona, no, we have to p—"
The vendor—an older woman—cut in. "It's alright, dearie. She doesn't look like trouble."
Mona paused. Valen caught the edge of her smile.
She darted between the racks, flowing with ease. Her fingers skimmed silks, scratched wools. "This?" She whirled, holding sapphire linen against her fur. At his nod, her tail lashed. "Or this?" Emerald this time. His approval lit her more with each nod. Soon her arms overflowed with folded colors: yellow, purple, pink. Each choice piled higher. Each more impossible to resist.
Valen approached the vendor as Mona's twirls sent the yellow dress flaring. He dropped a heavy pouch into the merchant's palm. She shook her head at the overpayment, protesting. "No, keep it. You've been far too patient with us," Valen muttered, his gaze fixed on Mona—gold on gold in the sun. "With her, I mean."
Her nose quivered first. Then her tail snapped upright. "Valen!" She jabbed a claw toward a pastry cart, steam curling above honey-glazed rolls. Her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear.
"Two rolls," he told the vendor. Mona snatched one, nibbling the edge. Her eyes squeezed shut as a purr vibrated in her throat. "They're so much better when they're fresh!"
Hours blurred. Mona darted between simple games and puppet shows. The tiny stage held her. When the wolf revealed himself as the girl's grandmother, she hissed, tail puffing out. Valen forced back a laugh. Sunset soon bled gold into indigo. Lanterns around swayed like fireflies. Mona tilted her face up as twilight shifted her fur to a shade of copper.
Valen watched her drink it all in. That raw wonder… it clawed at him. Not with envy, but with a deep ache. When did I last taste a breeze without tasting blood first? Her joy was a thumb pressed hard on an old bruise. Precious, yet painful. He saw something in her that he once saw in his past life: something to fight for.
As the lanterns faded and crowd began to thin, they slumped against a cartwheel.Sunflowers surrounded them with bowed heads. Mona's purrs steadied, then stilled. Her head slipped to his shoulder—dead weight and trust. He groaned, and shifted slightly. But he didn't move to wake her. Not yet.
Her breathing deepened. Valen watched the horizon. Calamor whispered of prying eyes and knives in shadow. But here, he hoped to give her a small piece of normalcy before the inevitable weight of it all took hold. She couldn't stay with him forever. His place here was to prepare her to live on her own, or to find her own people. It wasn't a question of 'if", but 'when' they'd have to part. Let Calamor's hunger wait till dawn.
Time pulled taut. The stars wheeled west. Valen's shoulder tightened before he nudged her. "Eyes up, kit."
She blinked, stars dotting her wide pupils. A yawn cracked her jaw. "Headin' back?" she slurred.
He nodded, his palm already on his whip's hilt. The streets lay empty and moonlit. Mona floated beside him, drunk on festival-light still glowing behind her eyelids.
Inside the inn, candle-smoke wrapped around them. Valen sank onto a stool, quill scraping parchment. "Lessons." Mona slumped across the table, chin on her fists. Her eyes tracked his finger tracing letters in the air—A, B, C—like watching fireflies. "Your turn."
Her finger copied his: A, B, C. Candlelight shuddered; shadows danced. Valen's eyelids grew heavy. "It's getting late. Let's stop here."
A yawn escaped Mona as she slumped forward, forehead bumping the table. "Thank you, Valen," she whispered into the wood.
He gave her shoulder one light pat. "Of course."
Silence. Then her breathing deepened.
Valen chose not to wake her. Sliding in his own bed, he stared at the ceiling, Calamor's ghosts already gathering in the rafters. Sleep took him before he could blink.
***
Mona dreamed of the alley. The place behind the tavern where smells of stale beer and rot clung to damp stones. She was a kit. Despite her ears and tail. She looked like a human child by any other measure. Perhaps that's what stirred him to act. A man appeared, shoulders hunched under a patched coat. A furtive glance, then he set down a cloth bundle. Mona watched from behind crates, nose twitching at the scent of day-old bread and leftover chicken skin. Her belly cramped.
She waited until his footsteps faded before darting out. Sometimes she caught glimpses of him at an upstairs window, face tight with something she didn't have a name for until years later: fear. His scraps kept her alive through two winters. Small kindnesses, paid in silence.
Then, one dusk, a crowd came. Six, maybe seven faces, streaked with lantern light. Mona froze mid-bite, bread crust sharp in her mouth. The old man flinched, shoulders curling in. A woman jabbed a finger toward Mona's tail, words thrown like stones.
Behind them stood a man in a velvet coat, too clean for this place. He was smiling. It chilled her. The old man murmured, hands trembling as he gathered the half-eaten scraps. Mona wanted to brush against his leg, to purr. Anything. But his fear was a wall. She tried to speak.
Silence choked her. Why? I was born here. The thoughts clawed inside. The velvet-coated man stepped forward, the others scattering. He held out a sliver of meat glistening with oily sauce. Mona's fur rose.
Wrong smell. Sour. Her tail puffed. Tiny claws readied. The grin he wore fell instantly. For a heartbeat, his hand lifted.
Mona braced.
But he only laughed, cold as winter. He pocketed the tainted offering before striding away.
At dawn, Mona was pressed against cold bricks, tail tucked tight. No footsteps came. No bundle. Just the ache. When he finally appeared, his limp was new. A purple bloom stained his cheek. He didn't look at her as he dropped a heel of cheese. Mona crept forward. Why hurt? she tried to ask. Only a thin chirp escaped. She tugged his ankle. He flinched.
Boots. Heavy and fast.
Mona's tail shot straight. Guards rounded the corner, gazes locked on her and this kind human. Cruel intention burned in their eyes. She bolted. Darting, zigzagging, shouts washing over her. Her heart raced until the sounds faded. Refuge came as a cramped space between buildings.
From shadows, she watched them drag him away, his cries echoing. The world blurred, alleyways dissolving like smoke. Then, abrupt stillness: she saw only the wood of the table, heart pounding, breaths ragged.
Valen was there,standing above with whip in hand. "Mona?"
Her head shot back. He sat down beside her. "Hey. It was just a nightmare," he whispered. "You're safe. What was it about?"
Her breathing slowed. "I dreamed of someone from before," she whispered. "A kind human. Left food when I was alone." Her eyes finally settled on his. "His neighbors hurt him. Because of me. I wanted to thank him… say I didn't mean trouble…" A tear trailed down. "But I couldn't." She shuddered.
Valen brushed the tear away. His thumb lingered. "He cared—but fear trapped him." He paused. "And the laws… Sometimes they punish even small kindnesses to those less fortunate. Fines, jail time—even old women who leave out scraps get arrested when neighbors complain and officials show up. The helper pays the price. The stray still freezes alone in the alley."
Mona's tail curled tight against her legs. "Y'know…Once I finally started to learn your words," she whispered, "I heard humans say it over and over: 'Someone needs to help her.' Always 'someone.' Never them." She lowered her head. "If the guards get us and no one comes… We die, Valen. Cold and alone." She gritted her teeth. "Why do we have to be 'convenient'?" Her face rose, a cold fury within.
Valen's gaze darkened. "I know. All too well. I'm sorry, Mona." He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I've done what I could for strays like you. But it's like trying to drain a river with a soup ladle."
Mona suddenly leaned into him. The dam inside her broke. Tears she'd hoarded for years spilled free, soaking his tunic. Valen didn't move. He just kept hold of her. "Oil dumped on us." A shaky breath. " A whole village tortured and killed." Claws dug into his tunic. "Why, Valen? We're alive too." She went silent for a few moments, collecting herself.
"Sorry," she finally managed, voice raw. "I wasn't trying to be mean to you." Her frame shook. "I just never told anyone before." The anger bled out slowly, leaving only hollow sadness behind. "I just wanna live."
"We'll get there. I promise." His voice stayed calm. "For now, focus on growing stronger. One day at a time." He pulled back. "You okay?"
Mona nodded, eyes swollen and red.
Valen's gaze drifted to the distance, fixed on something only he could see. "Whatever it takes," he said quietly. He stood with a low groan, knees cracking faintly in the quiet room. "But first—breakfast. You need fuel." He extended his calloused palm. "We leave for Calamor after."
***
Crisp air carried the tang of decaying leaves. Valen walked with a hunter's tread, Mona matching his pace, ears twitching at every rustle. Silence stretched, broken by footsteps on crushed foliage.
Then Valen spoke. Low, steady tales of narrow escapes and rotten bridges. Cautionary tales. Mona hung on each word, her shoulder brushing his arm as they reached a clearing. He slid his bow free. "Time to practice."
Mona gripped the bow, resolve hardening her muscles. Arrows fell short, then crept closer to the targets.
Thwip. Thud.
Valen watched, smirking, offering quiet corrections.
Hours flew by once again. Rustling leaves and distant wings kept them company.
Then Mona went still. Her nose twitched. Then, her ears swiveled.
Valen noticed instantly, his gaze snapping toward the woods. "Everything okay?" Valen asked, voice low.
Mona's tail swished. "Not sure," she whispered. "There's a scent… Flowers, but somethin' under it." Her nose twitched. "Familiar… like…" She trailed off, turning to him. Her yellow eyes were wide, curiosity edged with fear. "You smell it?"
"I don't," Valen admitted, eyes narrowing. "Your senses are much sharper." He stepped closer, hand on his whip. "Careful now." He watched her closely. "We're near Calamor. Eyes open. Ears sharp."
The rumble of a shipping caravan grew closer. Imperial guards in crimson and gold stood out against the wagons. Valen's grip tightened. Five guards, including the captain. He raised a hand, signaling Mona to crouch into the thick brush. He nodded toward the caravan. "Heavy guard for what looks like a simple transport. But why?"
A familiar curiosity prickled his spine. Adventure whispered. His hand twitched toward his whip. But Mona's safety anchored him. "Wonder what Lord Aldric's tangled in now," he said as his lips curved. This new quiet life rarely offered such intrigue.
His gaze snapped to Mona, smile shifting into intent. "You say you smelled something strange?"
She nodded once, sharp. "Definitely." She opened her mouth slightly as she took in the air once more. "Still can't place it. The flower smell is getting heavier too."
"Then let's do a little digging, shall we? I've got a plan." He drew an arrow, slicing it across his chest with practiced precision. He winced, carving three shallow, fake claw marks. Blood welled.
Mona's eyes widened. Her hands flew to her mouth. "What are you doing?!"
"All part of the ruse, Mona," Valen said, pain softening into reassurance. "They distrust outsiders, but fear the wilds." He gestured at the wounds. "I'll cause a commotion. Say there's a 'monster.' You slip up to the wagon. Then, grab the manifest." He wiped the blood from the arrow, offering a lopsided smile. "Think you can do that?"
"I can!" Her tail flicked rapidly. A moment passed. She tilted her head. "But… What's a manifest?"
Valen sighed. He crouched, eyes meeting hers. "It's like a list. It tells us what's inside. Might be a rolled parchment with a ribbon—"
Mona's ears perked. "A ribbon?!" she interrupted, a pure, instinctual reflex. Pupils dilated.
Valen fought a smile. "Yes, a ribbon.. The important part is the parchment. The list."
She gave another sharp nod. "Right. List. Got it." As the caravan neared, her eyes widened, tail thumping as she grasped the weight of his request. The ribbon was forgotten.
Valen burst from the trees. "Monster! Help!" he shouted, voice exaggerated with a calculated panic. The driver jerked the reins; horses startled. Guards scanned the woods, hands on hilts.
With a stagger, Valen lurched toward the caravan, hand pressed to the fake wound. "Thank you for stopping!" He gasped. "Goblins!" He pointed shakily to the forest, whip coiled on his wrist. "Just there. They must be plotting something, being this close to the city."
The captain, a grizzled man with a scarred cheek, kept his hand tight on his sword as he edged forward. His eyes scanned only Valen. "Easy there."
Valen let his voice waver. "Please," he begged, lifting the his hand to show the gashes. "My place is just down the road." He winced, gaze snapping toward the woods—searching for Mona. "If we don't act now..." He let the threat dangle.
The captain's stare cut to the treeline, then to his men. "You heard 'im," he snapped. "The four of you, scout it out. I'll hold here." The guards peeled off, boots crunching the underbrush.
Valen offered a strained grin. "Thank you, Captain." His gaze flicked sideways. Mona was a blur of gold, low to the ground, darting toward the wagon. Almost. He offered his bloodied hand to the man, then withdrew it just as fast. "Oh, terribly sorry. Got any bandages? Don't wish to bleed out."
The captain's eyes stayed locked to him. He cursed to himself. Without even turning, he gripped a stained shirt that sat by the reins. He ripped it into a strip with a sharp tug. "That'll do," the captain said, tossing the cloth at Valen's boots.
Valen caught it with an ease that was a bit too smooth for a supposedly injured man. Shit. He masked it with a wince. His eyes flicked back. Mona's tail vanished beneath the axle. Good. He fumbled the cloth, let it slip. "Mind... helping with this? My hands are shaking."
The captain sighed, patience thinning. He stepped in close and began his work. Valen hissed. Just a little longer.
***
Inside the wagon: clutter, sacks, tools. Mona's fingers flew. No time. She knew ribbons meant fancy. There. A rolled parchment with a crimson tie. She snatched it. Heart drumming in her ears.
Outside, the captain growled. Mona didn't wait. Gone. A gold streak through ferns, silent as an owl's flight. Behind her, the captain's head whipped around. "Huh?" Too late. Only rustling bushes remained.
***
Valen spoke hastily. "Ah, Captain. Always watching our backs." He spread his hands, attempting to regain the man's focus. "So, need help tracking—"
Guards spilled from the trees, panting. "Nothin'," one spat. "No tracks. No stink. Nada."
The captain didn't move. He slowly whirled his face back to Valen's. "Ah. Slipped away," he said. Low. Dangerous. "Funny how that happens, "isn't it?" He yanked the knot around Valen's chest tighter. Too tight. "Best tend to that wound," he growled. "There's a healer in town. Move." A jerk of his chin toward the gates. "And keep your eyes peeled for those goblins, won't you?"
Valen bowed. "Certainly. Your concern... touches me." Hobbling away, he dragged his whip through the dirt. Each step screamed to run. Behind him, guards muttered about checking the wagon. How long until they notice?
His steps lightened out of view, stride gaining confidence. As trees thinned and the city's noise swelled, he felt alive again. Like the adventurer he'd once been. The mystery pulled him back.
At the house, he called for Mona, expecting her sprawled on the couch or practicing behind the house. The path was swept, porch creaking a welcome. Inside, it was still and silent. Her bow and quiver leaned against the wall, arrows tidy. Everything was in its place.
He called again. No purr. No rustle. Unease stabbed, deepening.
A streak of gold shot from the shadows. Mona's playful growl rang out as she leaped, claws sheathed. She landed lightly on his shoulders, hugging him tight, eyes bright.
"Mona! You had me worried." He ruffled her hair. "Your instincts? Sharp as ever." He patted her head, grin widening. "Great work."
Mona leaned into him. "It was easy," she shrugged. As she pulled away, her nose wrinkled. She snagged the bloodied rags binding his chest, slicing them free with a claw. She thrust the parchment at Valen as she examined the bandage. "What's it say?"
Valen scanned it. "Livestock. Three females. Intact… That's all?" He flipped it over. Blank. "Valuable, but not worth a whole detachment..." He finally noticed her trance. "Mona?"
She pressed the rags to her nose. A deep inhale. Pupils shrank to slits. Tail lashed, ears pinned back.
She didn't blink. "Wait." She held up the rag. "Those scents. They're on this. The cloth he gave you." Her stare was hard, horror dawning. "It smells of flowers, but under that… my kind."
Valen froze. His gaze jumped from the manifest to the fabric. Surely not. He met her eyes. "You're certain?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Beastfolk."