MasukSarahI couldn’t hide in the bedroom forever.I found my clothes, dressed carefully, and stood in front of the small mirror on the back of the door. The mark on my shoulder was visible above the neckline of my shirt — a small, precise wound, the bruise already fading at the edges the way wolf wounds did. But the scar would last forever. I pulled my collar aside and looked at it for a moment.Then I left it exactly as it was and went to face the kitchen.All three were at the table. Kevin was eating porridge with focused efficiency, going through it like he had somewhere to be. Malachi had his hands around his coffee mug and was looking out the window with an expression of elaborate innocence. Jareth also gripped a coffee cup, but I noticed he wasn’t drinking it. It looked extra black this morning.My heart warmed when I looked at them, and I thought in some strange way the four of us had become a family.I hadn’t had a real family since my mother died.Jareth looked up as I entered th
SarahI woke before dawn.For a moment I lay still, orienting myself. The room was the same room it always was — the crack in the ceiling, the thin curtain moving in the summer air, the familiar smell of the cottage. But the arm across my waist was not familiar, and the warm solidity of the body behind me was not familiar, and the tender ache in my shoulder where he had—I reached up and touched it. The mark. Slightly raised, already healing the way wolf wounds did, but unmistakably there.I lay still and thought about what I had done.No. That wasn’t right. I thought about what we had done. I had not been a passive participant by any measure and the man currently asleep behind me knew that better than anyone. I pulled his head down. I made the choice with full knowledge of what it meant.I also thought about the fact that Jasper and I had been together for months, doing the deed on a regular basis, but he had never marked me. He always had an excuse. Wait for the ceremony, wait until
JarethI found Kevin in the barn with Malachi, the two of them engaged in what appeared to be a serious strategic discussion about the best placement of a chicken roost they were building out of some slender pine boughs. Kevin was holding the hammer and giving directions while Malachi listened with the gravity they apparently deserved.“Keep Kevin with you tonight,” I told Malachi.He looked at me. One look, brief, amused, and entirely too perceptive. “Sure,” he said, and went back to the chicken roost discussion without another word.I walked back to the cottage.The kitchen was clean, the dinner things washed and put away, the beans that Sarah and Malachi had shelled were now simmering on the back of the stove. It was remarkable how she had somehow turned the ramshackle cottage into a proper home.No light showed under Sarah’s door.I stood outside the closed door for a moment.Fifteen years of discipline. The mission first, always the mission. No time to worry about finding a mate
SarahMalachi had been helping me shell beans for the better part of an hour. He sat with his elbows propped on the table, splitting the pods with his thumb nails like he was the most domestic man in the world.But deep down I knew there wasn’t a domesticated bone in his body.I hadn’t asked for his help.. I had come in from the garden with a full basket and he had simply sat down across from me and started helping, without asking, without ceremony.The nice thing about Malachi - he was easy company. No undercurrents, no careful weight to every word. He just talked. He had opinions about everything and a dry humor that made it hard not to smile and he asked questions like he actually wanted the answers.“Those chickens,” he said. “I heard Jareth brought them home for supper.”“That’s true,” I said.“And yet here they are, still roosting on my cot.”“They lay eggs,” I pointed out. “And they have personalities.”He looked at me. “I’m aware,” he said, with feeling. “The fat one likes to
JarethThe drop point was a hollow in the base of a split oak half a mile north of the cottage, on the edge of Broken Arrow territory where the tree line thinned and the ground rose toward the mountains. I had used it twice before—once to send a report out, once to receive a supply package that Malachi had retrieved before Sarah was awake. This time I went myself.The package was there. Small, wrapped in oilcloth, wedged into the hollow with the particular neatness that was Brennan’s signature. I checked the seal before I opened it. The seal was intact.I tucked it inside my jacket and walked back.The cottage felt different when I came through the door. It took me a moment to identify why. Sarah was at the tavern, Kevin was with her, and Malachi was watching them both. The cottage was simply empty. I had lived alone my whole life and had never once noticed the quality of an empty room. I noticed it now. The kitchen still smelled of the breakfast she had made—eggs and fried potato and
SarahJareth had been up before me, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that he was already deep in quiet conversation with Malachi at the kitchen table when I came out, a map spread between them that they folded away with practiced casualness the moment I appeared.I made coffee for everyone without being asked, because it was something to do with my hands while I absorbed the fact that Malachi seemed to be a new fixture in our house.Kevin appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, hair disordered from sleep, and climbed into his chair with the focused purposefulness of a child who had learned that breakfast didn’t make itself. I scrambled eggs and fried the leftover potato from last night and cut bread and set it all on the table and the four of us ate together in the particular comfortable quiet that had become the shape of mornings in the cottage.After breakfast Jareth and Malachi took their coffee outside. I washed the dishes and swept the kitchen floor and went to che
SarahThe whetstone sat on the wooden table, a heavy slab of grey rock that felt like a secret. I didn't touch it. I just stared at the spot where the sword had been—the dark, runic blade.Hunters carry knives. But that... that was a weapon meant for a battlefield.I was halfway to the sink when th
SarahThe rain on the corrugated metal roof was a rhythmic metallic drumming that drowned out the morning birds. It was a relentless, percussive sound—that made me feel safe and isolated from the rest of the world.As long as the sky was pouring down on the tin, the village felt a thousand miles aw
SarahThe cottage felt different tonight. Usually, it was a sanctuary of rough-hewn wood and mountain silence, but tonight the walls seemed to pulse with the echo of the tavern. The air was charged, thick with the scent of rain Jareth had mentioned—a storm was coming, both outside and within those
SarahThe transition from the violent spark of the kitchen to the mundane routine of service was surreal. Jareth’s words lingered in the air like the smell of ozone—a command to stay, to play the part, and to turn Jasper’s rage into a joke.I threw myself into the work. I prepared a large pot of ve







