Fever

The baby’s fever rose once more in the late morning. Bonita felt the heat against her skin and did not wait. She called the guards. The healer came, gave another dose of the tonic, and stayed long enough to watch the child’s breathing settle again.

“It should break fully by tomorrow if she continues to feed and stays warm,” the healer said. “Any higher than this and you send for me at once.”

Bonita nodded. She kept the baby against her chest after the woman left. Mira sat close, watching every small movement of her sister’s face. Lila and the twins stayed on the other bed, quieter than usual. Hunger was no longer the main problem, but the uncertainty sat on all of them.

Around midday the door opened without warning. The man who had questioned her the day before stepped inside. He looked first at the baby, then at Bonita.

“The fever?”

“Lower than this morning,” she said. “Not gone.”

He closed the door behind him and remained standing. The girls watched him in silence.

“My name is Kael,” he said. “Alpha of this territory. I should have given it sooner.”

Bonita did not respond. The name changed nothing.

Kael continued. “The confirmation from Blackthorn is solid. Drogo’s decision is already known among nearby packs. Some call it harsh. Others call it overdue. None of them are offering to take you in.”

He looked at Mira, then at the younger girls.

“You have five children and no standing. That makes you a problem for any pack that gives you shelter. I have already spent resources and attention on you. I will not do so indefinitely.”

Bonita met his eyes. “We did not ask for indefinite. You set the terms. The baby needs more time. I need more time. After that you can send us on.”

“I can,” he said. “The question is whether I should send you out with nothing but a few days’ food and hope you survive the next stretch of forest, or whether there is another option that does not leave five children at risk of dying within a week.”

Mira’s voice cut in, steady but sharp. “We survived this far.”

Kael looked at her. “You survived because you were found before the cold or hunger finished the work. That is not the same as being safe.”

Bonita placed a hand on Mira’s arm. The girl fell silent, but her expression did not soften.

Kael turned his attention back to Bonita. “I have a cabin farther from the main settlement. It is still on my land, still guarded, but less visible. You would have space, regular food, and continued access to the healer until you are stronger. In return, you remain under the same restrictions. You do not leave the area without permission. You do not speak to my people about Blackthorn or your past beyond what is necessary. If Drogo’s men ever appear, you tell me immediately.”

Bonita studied him. The offer was practical, not kind. It also kept them under his control.

“Why?” she asked. “You said our presence creates risk. Extending it only increases that risk.”

“Because the alternative is putting a three-day-old infant and four other children back into the forest while their mother can barely stand,” he said. “I am not willing to do that. That does not mean I trust you or that I have decided you may stay permanently. It means I am choosing the option that keeps the immediate harm lower.”

He paused.

“If you refuse, you leave when the fever breaks and you can walk a full day without collapsing. Those are the two paths. Choose.”

Bonita looked at the baby in her arms, then at the four girls watching her. Mira’s face was tight with distrust. Lila looked between them as if trying to read which answer would keep them safest. The twins stayed quiet, waiting for her decision the way they always did.

She did not like either option. One ended in the forest again too soon. The other placed them deeper under the authority of a man who owed them nothing and had already made it clear he could change his mind.

“We’ll take the cabin,” she said.

Kael gave a short nod. “Be ready within the hour. Someone will bring what you need. The same rules apply. Break them and the arrangement ends.”

He left without further discussion.

Bonita sat still for a moment after the door closed. The baby shifted against her, still warmer than she should be. Mira spoke first.

“He could change his mind tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Bonita said. “He could. We use the time. We get stronger. We stay ready to leave if we have to.”

Lila moved closer. “Will the baby get better there?”

“She has a better chance inside than she does outside,” Bonita answered.

They packed nothing because they owned nothing. When the hour was up, two men came to the door. One carried a small bundle of clean clothes and extra cloths for the baby. The other waited to lead them.

Bonita stood carefully, the child in her arms. Mira walked at her shoulder. Lila held the twins’ hands. They followed the men along a narrower path that led away from the main buildings. The new cabin sat farther back among the trees—larger than the first, still simple, with a clear view of anyone approaching.

Inside there were proper beds, a table, a stove, and a supply of food already placed. The windows could be shuttered. It was still a cage, only a more comfortable one.

Bonita set the baby down only long enough to check the rooms. She kept the girls in sight at every moment. When she was satisfied there were no immediate threats, she sat on the edge of the main bed and began to feed the child again.

Mira stood at the window, looking out at the two guards who had taken position near the path.

“They’re still watching,” she said.

“I know,” Bonita answered. “Let them. We do the same.”

She adjusted the baby and kept her eyes on her daughters. The fever had not broken yet. Their place here was temporary and conditional. Nothing about the arrangement felt safe. It only felt like the next stretch of time they had to survive.