Chapter 15 Kendra
KENDRA
Iknew the Wintermoon bridge would be large. I’ve seen it referenced online during the dead hours between deliveries, always described as bigger than the photos make it look, and the photos are already impressive.
But knowing a bridge crosses the water and sitting on it in the dark while Kade presses the accelerator harder are two nothing alike.
The suspension towers rise on either side of the truck like cathedral columns, strung with lights that blur at the edges in the falling snow.
Below us, where the straits should be, there’s nothing but black.
Kade sighs as the gate falls behind us, her whole body settling into the driver’s seat. “Thank god we’re home.” She pushes the engine a little harder.
“Could you maybe slow down,” I say. It’s not really a question.
“Hell no.” She glances at me sideways. “You’ll be fine, Bouda queen.”
I cut her a look that she completely ignores, then turn back to the window because the view is pulling at me and I’d rather focus on that than on the drop below.
To the right, the tourist island blazes gold through the weather, its lights smearing warm against the dark water.
Further out, the royal island rises in silhouette, the castles lit from below, their reflection scattered and moving across the surface of the strait.
In the backseat, Aiden and Andrew have gone quiet.
I checked the mirror a few minutes ago and caught Andrew’s palm resting on Aiden’s knee, and Aiden watching the window pretending very hard not to notice it.
I’m not going to say anything. But watching two people work out what they are to each other loosens something in me, and I hold onto that.
I look back through the rear window into the storm.
The bridge lights disappear into snow about thirty feet behind us, and beyond that there’s nothing.
Zaki refused to ride in the truck. She’d regarded it with contempt and no interest in negotiating, and she’d spoken to Kojo in their language that made him stand straighter and follow her into the dark without a word.
I know they’re back there. I check anyway.
“Never in a million years did I think I’d end up moving to Wintermoon,” Aiden says quietly, more to himself than to the truck. He’s watching the tourist island the same way I was a moment ago.
Andrew sets his palm more firmly on Aiden’s knee. Aiden drops his gaze to it, then back out the window without moving away.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she says. “Andrew’s never been much for settling in Wintermoon. He loves the outside world. The danger. The mess.” She pauses. “Always has.”
Andrew hisses at the back of her head. Kade keeps driving.
I check behind us again. Snow. Bridge lights. Nothing.
“Honey.” Her voice drops, loses its edge. “If you’re worried about losing them, don’t. As queen of the Bouda Clan, those two would set Wintermoon on fire to get back to you. Every building on it.”
I turn back around. “Try?”
Kade smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “We have a goddess living on Wintermoon now.” She keeps her gaze on the road as the bridge begins to end, the shore appearing through the weather ahead. “Oh,” she adds, like she almost forgot. “Don’t freak out if you see spiders.”
I stare at her. “What?”
“They’re Carla’s. Her children. They’re harmless, honestly.” She waves one hand. “Like little dogs.”
I open my mouth, then close it. I don’t even want to go down that road right now.
We cross onto solid ground, and my body relaxes.
Kade takes us down an open road that disappears almost immediately into forest. The headlights punch into the dark between dense pines, most of them so tall I can’t see where they end, and the snow falls straight down between them in the still air.
Between the tree lines there are breaks, cleared paths leading off into the dark at even intervals, and I clock that they’re too regular to be random.
Shifter villages, probably. Pathways to places I don’t know yet and am going to have to learn.
Then the trees open up. The market takes up what must be a full city block, its stalls built from dark timber with iron lamp posts throwing warm gold light across the snow.
Everything is shuttered for the night, canvas tied down over the goods, but I can still make out the shape of a full produce section under a wide covered walkway, a fish stall, what looks like a row of craft tables along the far wall.
And set inside the market ring, tucked behind the shopping stalls, there’s a carnival that has no business being in the middle of a Michigan forest in February.
A Ferris wheel, dormant but strung with lights tracing every spoke.
Two small roller coasters banking through a grove of pines, their tracks curving up and out of sight between the trees.
A swing ride with the seats lifted for the night.
A funhouse with mirrored panels bouncing the lamp light back in pieces.
“I’ll help with the town stuff when you’re settled,” Kade calls, passing the market without slowing. “But feel free to stop by whenever. My Leah will show you around.”
“How am I supposed to pay for things here?”
“You don’t.” She says it simply. “Wintermoon runs on a barter system, mostly. We use human currency for the folks who prefer it, but none of that applies to you. No money, no bills, none of it. This territory is one of the wealthiest in the world.” She glances at me to check if it landed.
I ease back into my seat and watch the market disappear in the side mirror.
It’s not much longer before Kade slows and turns onto a narrower path between two rows of old pines.
They open into a clearing, and I sit up straight.
The community lands stretch out wide in the dark, a village of cabins spread across the snow with warm light in some of the windows and lanterns burning along the cleared paths between them.
Some of the cabins have greenhouse attachments, fogged with heat from inside, condensation running down the glass.
Others have covered porches with rocking chairs and woodpiles stacked tight under lean-tos.
The paths between them are shoveled clean, and the whole thing is tidier and more lived-in than anything I was picturing.
“Community lands.” Kade rolls slowly along the path. “This is where you’ll stay while we work out proper territory for your clan.”
“My what?”
“The Bouda will need land. A real holding. That takes time to establish.” She gives me time to take it in.
“For now, this is home. It’s a mix of people here, fated humans waiting to find their match, supernaturals who’ve stepped back from their clans or covens, mated couples getting established.
Everyone here is figuring something out. ”
“It’s a lot,” I tell her.
“It gets less overwhelming,” Andrew says from the back seat. “Give it about a week. Everyone adjusts.”
Aiden turns from the window and faces Andrew directly. “I don’t want to keep living like I’m between things. This is my future now. I want roots. I want to build something real.”
Andrew exhales. “We’ll talk about that.”
“The hell we won’t.” Aiden’s voice is quiet, but there’s nothing soft about the intention in it.
Andrew looks out the window. Kade keeps driving.
She pulls up in front of a cabin near the far end of the village and cuts the engine.
I’m out of the passenger side before she finishes telling me to wait, and I hear her call me stubborn but I’m already walking around the truck, taking it in.
It’s a solid single-story log structure with a deep covered porch, two wide windows on either side of the door, both lit warm from inside.
Small lights run along the porch railing.
A woodpile big enough for the whole winter sits stacked and covered under a lean-to on the south side.
The air is different here. Cleaner, colder, with an undercurrent I can’t name.
Kade comes around the truck and stands beside me. “Fully furnished. TV, internet, real kitchen.”
“I need a phone,” I say. “My parents don’t know.” I stop because I genuinely don’t know how to end that sentence. My mom is going to try to reach me by morning, and when she can’t, she’ll spiral, and she won’t be wrong to spiral because what would I even say.
“We’re not big on phones here, but we have them. I’ll make sure Leah gets you one sorted.” Kade shrugs. “There’s other paperwork too, since you’re fated you’ll need to be registered in Wintermoon’s database. But that’s not today. Today you just settle in.”
“What about clothes?”
The front door of the cabin swings open and a woman stands in the doorway with the light behind her, one arm raised in a wave, her whole face communicating warmth.
She has tan skin and long wavy dark brown hair pinned up with a pen through the bun, dusted at the temples with what looks like flour.
Big bright brown eyes. Her fangs show when she smiles, quick and unguarded.
“That’s my Leah,” Kade says, her voice going soft on the name --- soft enough to catch me off guard. “Right on time.”
I glance back at Andrew, who waves at the porch with an enthusiasm that is a lot for we just went through.
Aiden watches him with an expression that lives in the territory between exasperation and fondness he hasn’t named yet.
He finds my eye and gives me a small nod.
I take a breath and start toward the steps.
“Wait.” I stop. “How will Kojo and Zaki know where to find me?”
Kade laughs, short and genuine, points straight up, and I catch them clearing the tree line, They come out of the dark above the forest with no more sound than the snow makes falling, two shapes against the white sky, and then they land in the clearing a few yards away and I feel the impact through the soles of my feet even from here.
Snow kicks up in a soft cloud and settles.
They stand in it, watching me, and then they start walking.
“Come on.” Kade catches my arm. “They’ll meet you inside.”
I frown at her but I go.
Leah reaches out and takes both my hands in hers the moment I clear the top step, her grip cool and certain, nothing tentative about it. Up close she smells like flour and vanilla underneath, and her eyes are steady.
“Another daughter of Wintermoon,” she says. “Welcome home.”
I don’t know what to do with “welcome home” when I’ve been on this land for approximately twenty minutes. But how she says it doesn’t leave room to argue, and I open my mouth and then close it again without finding anything.
Behind me I hear the truck door. I turn back through the open front door, out past the porch railing, toward the truck, where Kojo has stopped.
I can see them in the headlights, him and Aiden, Kojo’s head bent slightly and Aiden’s hand at his shoulder.
Whatever they’re saying, it’s not for me, and I look away and let them have it.
“He’s saying goodbye to Aiden.” Kade clocks what I’m doing. “Thanking him. Their journey together ends here. Everything new starts with you.”
“Oh,” I manage.
Leah moves around behind me with the speed I’m going to have to get used to, and she’s lifting my coat off my shoulders before I’ve processed that she’s moved.
She carries it to the coat rack by the door, hangs it neatly, and returns with a measuring tape already in her hand, produced from her apron pocket.
“One thing I’ve learned settling women into Wintermoon,” she tells me, matter-of-fact, “is that clothing sizes run different here. Better to get your measurements now and save you the frustration later.” She doesn’t wait for me to agree.
The tape goes around my shoulders, my waist, my hips, her hands quick and light, over and done in fifteen seconds.
She produces a small notepad and pen from the same apron pocket and writes down a column of numbers without looking up.
Kade crosses the room and drops a kiss to Leah’s cheek. Leah goes pink under her tan skin, tilts her head into it slightly without pausing her writing, and Kade tucks her hands in her pockets and steps back. I smile at that.
“Give me five minutes,” Leah says, and points at the dining table.
I turn and look. Restaurant bags cover most of the table, and the smell hits me before I’ve taken a step. Warm and complicated, several things at once. My feet carry me there.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” Leah calls after me, sounding pleased, “so I brought a little of everything from the diner on the tourist island.”
I stop walking when the front door opens. Kojo and Zaki duck through together, snow on their shoulders, still carrying the cold with them. Kojo’s amber eyes find mine.
I cross the room and walk into his arms without deciding to. My face against his chest, and his arms come around me.
I pull back and look at Zaki. She’s standing with her arms at her sides, watching me, and a place in her face is open that I haven’t seen open before. Not soft, Zaki doesn’t do soft, but open. The relief is there. She’s relieved, grieving.
I wrap my arms around her waist and put my face against her chest, and she goes rigid. Her whole body locks, like she doesn’t know what her hands are supposed to do with this.
“This is not the way of the Bouda,” she says above my head, her voice careful.
“Shut up, Zaki,” I tell her. “Just let me hold you.”
She goes quiet. I can feel her eyes go over my head toward Kade, probably with a look that is asking for help, and Kade is probably shrugging. Zaki’s lost everything she’s ever known. She’s been carrying herself like a gate that never closes, and somebody needs to hold her, and I’m here.
“Well,” Leah says brightly, appearing at Kojo’s elbow with her measuring tape already extended, “since I’ve got you both here, I’ll need your measurements too.”
Zaki makes a sound in her throat that isn’t quite a hiss.
Leah doesn’t flinch, just starts toward Kojo with the tape, unbothered by either of them.
Then, slowly, Zaki’s arm comes around my shoulders. Not obligatory. I feel the exact moment her body stops bracing and just stands, and I don’t say anything about it, and she doesn’t either.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me. But it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t.