Heart Of The Island

The island is different today, softer... almost expectant. The announcement that the element games had ended should have lifted the lingering tension, yet it feels like something unseen still clings to the atmosphere. It might be just me, my company seems to be perfectly unbothered in his own little world.

Alaric has said little since we left the beach house, only that there is somewhere he wants to take me.

The wind is heavy with salt, and a gust lifts my hair as I follow him down a winding dirt road, cutting through the middle of an overgrown forest.

The terrain shifts the deeper into the island we venture, farther and farther away from the arena and the parts of the island reserved for the games. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and ripe fruit and the sounds of waves crashing against the beach becomes more and more distinct.

Another distinct sound soon rises to meet it... laughter. Soft, innocent giggles of excitement... I can only guess it's coming from children.

And it wasn't until we broke through the forest to the other side that I see them.

The islanders...

I step around Alaric's broad frame just as the trees give way to a settlement, nestled right in the core of the island. It is not what I would call a village, not exactly. The homes that make up the settlement are simple, made of wood and woven palm leaves. They blend into the land as if they have always been there.

Fire pits in open spaces send curls of fragrant smoke into the air. Wooden canoes, some half-carved and waiting rest along the river bank at the far end of the settlement.

The homes weren't built with permanence in mind, yet they are sturdy. No towering mansions, or sprawling estates. Nothing refined like the beach house, just carefully placed structures that coexist with the natural scenery rather than dominate it.

A few of the people notice us immediately and I expect a cautious reaction. But rather than fear, what we receive is something akin to familiarity, even with Alaric's imposing presence.

A woman crosses the clearing, balancing a basket of wild mangoes on her hip. She calls out a greeting, waving at us and Alaric inclines his head in response, I quickly follow suit. I sneak a glance at him, his expression is softer than I'd ever seen it. 

A few other men, their arms marked with inked symbols I don't recognise walk over to us, they clasp Alaric's wrist in a way that speaks of deep rooted respect rather than obligation. They say a few polite words to me and Alaric moves aside with them, exchanging a few brief words before he returns to my side.

Then a wave of children rush forward at us. I am completely taken aback and unsure how to react to all the attention and kind greetings we receive. A spirited child tugs at Alaric's arms, his small hands gripping his fingers as he chatters excitedly with the rest.

One barefooted boy with wild hair launches himself at Alaric's leg. "You're late!"

Alaric barely rocks at the impact, his hand coming down to ruffle the boy's hair. "And you're impatient, Jimmy."

The children pull him along and he doesn't resist, rather Alaric takes my hand and I have no choice but to be tugged with him till we arrive at what I guess is a sitting area around a fire pit.

The woman from before with the basket of mangoes sends over a bowl of fresh fruits to us through a young teenager.

"This is for you, Supreme. Maggie says you and the miss look to be starving." The girl smiles sheepishly at Alaric and gives me a shy glance as she places the bowl down and scurries off, leaving us to the company of the eager children.

They have been chattering in loud voices, speaking over each other that I am yet to make out what any of them is trying to say. But Alaric seems to be following along their conversation. He offers me a wild mango while nodding along to whatever the little boy is saying, and chuckling at some points.

It is difficult to comprehend that this is Alaric, the Alpha Supreme feared across the continent, now sitting in the midst of a circle of children, listening intently to their excited rambling.

One of the younger boys hops onto the log we're sitting on and then climbs onto Alaric's back. He barely reacts, only shifting his attention when another little girl tugs impatiently at his wrist, demanding his attention. She couldn't have been more than six but her eyes sparkle with excitement and her tone is fearless as she speaks.

At this point, I make an effort to listen keenly. 

"You promised to carve the driftwood when next you come by," she pouts.

Alaric exhales, the sound almost amused. "I did." He turned slightly, his gaze landing on me. "You'll help."

It wasn't a request.

"Great!" The little girl shrieks. Before I can protest, she seizes my hand and we're once again pulled toward a shaded area where a half circle of children have gathered. A few are already welding small knives, their fingers working carefully over wooden blocks. And others sit cross legged, watching the process.

Alaric carves a spot for me in the sand and I hesitate for only a moment before lowering myself down.

"Have you done this before?" One of the older boys asks as he passes me a carving knife. His features are sharp with quiet curiosity.

"No." I admit sheepishly. Testing the weight of the blade on my palm. "Have you?"

His lips quirk in amusement. "All my life. Most of the locals here carve quite well... Supreme does too." He supplies the last statement in a whisper.

I glance over as Alaric settles beside me. He glances between the boy and me, shaking his head in amusement to see me holding a carving knife and a wooden block.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself." He chastises lightly.

"What makes you think I can't do it?" I scoff in response and poise my hands to begin, unsure of what exactly I am trying to prove.

Alaric goes on chuckling to himself, already working on his piece of wood. His hands move with quiet precision, each stroke revealing the shape of what could become a number of things, and I'm determined to make something out of my wooden block that shuts his mouth. But where to begin?

A boy beside me leans closer, watching my hesitant movements. "You should carve a wolf." He suggests.

"No, no," another countered. "A dragon."

I laugh nervously, the suggestions are getting more outrageous and I'm still figuring out how to properly hold a carving knife.

"How about a feather?" The little girl from before whispers.

I pause at that, giving her a curious glance. "A feather? That is a peculiar choice."

She nods, dark curls bouncing. "My mommy says it means freedom."

Something in my chest tightens and I still. Alaric says nothing but I can feel the weight of his gaze. He hadn't just brought me here for the islanders, I realise.

This was deliberate. A quiet reminder that there are still places where freedom is not just an illusion. 

Perhaps he means to say, by his side is such a place too...but I do not allow myself think too much about it.

Pressing my fingers against the wood, my knife moves in slow, careful motion. Alaric's hands work beside mine, his strokes sure and effortless, shaping something that has his entire focus. My work is not nearly as precise as his, but it is not as clumsy as I expect either.

The children whisper eagerly around us, occasionally reaching out to touch the wooden figures forming under our hands.

I steal a glance at Alaric. His brows are furrowed in focus, making his features stand out all the more. His eyes soften when the little girl leans against him, completely unafraid.

This isn't the Alpha everyone fears... the Alpha that incited terror in the arena.

Not here.

The little girl crawls into his lap, small arms wrapping around his waist as if it is the most natural thing in the world. Alaric barely reacts, aside from a slight shift to accommodate her weight and make her more comfortable.

The wild haired boy tugs at Alaric's sleeve, showing off a disaster of a carving with beaming pride.

Alaric examines it intently and then hands it back with a nod of approval. 

Just watching him like this, a warm feeling blossoms in me. 

When my feather is finished, I run my fingers over the smooth ridges, lifting it to everyone's view with pride.

The children applaud me and I flash Alaric a victorious grin. 

"Do you like it?" His voice was quiet, meant only for me.

I glance up. His eyes are not just assessing my work, they are assessing me. 

I swallow. "Yes."

His fingers brush against mine, the contact brief but deliberate. "Good."

The moment stretches, the weight of it settling deep in my bones. Something has shifted between us...not an explosive difference, but a quiet, cautious step forward.

And for the first time, I don't try to pull away.