Chapter 15 #2
"Kestria—"
"Don't argue. You're the one who knows where we're going."
Fair point. I fall into step beside her as we head toward the tree line, cart wheels creaking over uneven ground. Pack's mostly asleep—a few early risers near the fire pits, nobody paying attention to us.
Good.
Out of the territory before anyone has opinions about—
"No."
The voice comes from behind us.
I know that voice. It said fuck against my neck and again against my mouth and—
I turn around.
Keer is standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, jaw set. He's been awake for a while—the tension in his shoulders, the stillness. Waiting.
"You're not going."
"I'm not asking your permission."
"Doesn’t matter. I'm not giving it."
"You don't get to—"
"You want to walk into human territory. Alone."
"Not alone. Kestria's coming with me." I gesture at the cart, the supplies, the entire expedition that is clearly not a surprise outing. "See? Two people."
His eye flicks to his sister. They do that thing—whole conversation in a glance—and something passes between them I can't read. Her jaw tightens. His doesn't change. Whatever she's telling him with her eyes, it's not welcome aboard.
Kestria's chin lifts anyway.
"She's not going by herself. I'll be right there."
"That's not good enough."
"Why not? I can—"
"If anything goes wrong—"
"Nothing's going to go wrong."
"Something always goes wrong." He's looking at me now. Direct. The full weight of his gaze and—his mouth on my throat. The sound he made. My neck goes hot, pulse kicking, and I hate it. "Every time you think you're safe, something goes wrong."
"I need moonbright." Squeakier than I want. "If someone gets poisoned—"
"Then we'll deal with it."
"Deal with it how? Watch them die?" I step forward. "I used everything on Fenna. What I made after wouldn't cover a scrape. One more attack and I'm standing there with nothing."
"So we find supplies somewhere else."
"When? While people bleed out?" My hands are shaking. Pockets. "I know where this field is. I know the route. I can do this."
The muscle in his jaw jumps once.
"The cottage area isn't safe."
"I know it's not safe. That's why Kestria's coming with me."
"Kestria isn't enough."
“Wow, really? Kestria, are you going to take that—” I whirl to her.
"Tell him. Tell him we can handle this."
"I think..." Kestria starts slowly. "I think he has a point."
"Kestria."
"I'm not saying we shouldn't go. I'm saying maybe more protection wouldn't hurt."
"More protection from who?" My voice is somewhere only bats can appreciate. "Everyone has pack duties. Hunting. Pack work. I'm not going to ask someone to abandon their work so I can go shopping—"
Oh.
"You know what. You're right, Keer. If you're so concerned with our safety, why don't you escort us?"
That'll end this. He's the Alpha. He has responsibilities—people to lead, actual problems to handle, a territory to run. He's not going to drop everything to babysit me on a supply run just because he can't stop trying to control every single—
"Fine."
"See your—wait what? Fine?"
"I'm coming with you."
My stomach drops.
A full day. Walking distance. His body three feet from mine for hours and—no.
The cart. Focus on the cart. Wheels need greasing. Do I have grease? I don't have grease.
"You want to go. You're going." He uncrosses his arms and steps forward, and he's so fucking big, I forgot how much space he fills just by crossing a clearing. "But I'm coming with you. That's the condition."
"That's not—I didn't mean—"
"You asked."
"I was being sarcastic!"
"And now I'm being serious." Closer. Close enough that his scent hits—cedar and the heat of skin—and my pulse kicks against my throat. "You go, I go. Or no one goes."
Kestria coughs beside me. Pointed. Not subtle. When I glance at her, her face is carefully blank, but her eyes are on her brother and there's a warning in them he's choosing not to see.
The coin. Right, the coin—do I have enough? Goat prices went up last season and if the chicken woman's busy she'll try to overcharge, I need to account for the rooster separately, roosters always cost more than—
"Fine." It scrapes out. "Come if you want. I don't care. Bring coin."
I don't not-care. That's different.
A jingle. A heavy bag lands in the cart.
"Let's go." Already walking past me, toward the tree line. Not waiting.
Fucking Alphas.
If we don't move now—and I still haven't figured out cages, do I build them or buy them, because buying cuts into the goat fund and I can't show up with—
Kestria grabs the cart handle. I stand there watching his back disappear into the trees, broad shoulders cutting through undergrowth.
"You coming?"
"I've made a terrible mistake."
"Yup. He called your bluff. But—" She nods toward the forest. "He's leaving without us."
The forest swallows us within minutes. Keer takes the cart from Kestria without asking—just reaches back, closes his hand over the handle, and pulls it forward.
She lets go. Doesn't argue. He leads without speaking, cutting through undergrowth, and I'm behind the cart watching his shoulders.
The left one has a scar I haven't seen before and that's not—plants.
Mugwort. Nettles. Poisonous berries—those ones, the dark purple clusters. Goldenseal, good for infection, should come back for it later. Plants are safe. Plants don't have broad shoulders and a voice that—
Paste ratios. Two parts carrier oil to one part extract, but if the moonbright's older growth I'll need to adjust—maybe three parts, maybe four, the dilution shifts when the potency's high enough to burn tissue and I haven't seen this batch yet, could be strong, could be—
"So." Kestria breaks the silence. "This is fun."
I don't answer.
"Really great team energy. Love the vibe."
"Kestria." I shove her shoulder.
"Just an observation."
Keer doesn't respond. Doesn't turn.
"The market's about four hours." Too loud. I know it's too loud.
Nothing.
"Then the moonbright field. Back before dark if we push."
His boots hit the ground steady and hard, not slowing.
"Should be simple. Market, flowers, home."
"I know the route." Rough. Clipped. Still hasn't turned around.
"Great. So we're all on the same—"
"We're not on any page. You're doing what you want regardless of what anyone says."
"I'm doing what needs to be done. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes. Because people need paste, and people need eggs, and I can't sit around—"
"You couldn't wait one more day to plan this properly."
"I have a plan. Market. Flowers. Home."
"That's a list."
"A list is a plan—"
"Can you two please stop?" Kestria's voice cuts between us. "I will push this cart off a cliff."
Silence. He pulls the cart over a root without breaking stride. His forearm flexes and I look at the canopy.
"Better. Much better."
An hour passes. Maybe more. Keer stays ahead—steady, relentless, pulling the cart over every obstacle without slowing. Kestria fills what gaps she can.
"How many hens are you thinking?"
"Eight. Maybe ten. Depends on what she has."
"That's a lot of chickens."
"That's barely enough chickens. Egg production drops in winter. You need surplus to compensate."
"You've done the math."
"I always do the math."
A branch catches the side of the cart. Keer reaches back to free it—one hand on the branch, one on the frame—and the motion twists his shirt across his back.
I look at the ground.
Root. Another root. Very interesting roots on this trail.
"What about the goat situation? How many?"
"Three females for milking, one male for breeding. Four total."
"Four goats, ten chickens, a rooster, and baskets of poisonous flowers."
"No."
From ahead. He doesn't turn.
"No what?"
"Four goats. No."
"We're discussing this."
"We're not."
My boot catches a root and I stumble. Keer's hand closes around my arm before I've finished falling—fast, instinctive, grip firm on my elbow.
He steadies me and lets go in the same motion.
Doesn't look back. Doesn't say anything.
Just the brief press of his fingers and then nothing, and my arm is burning and I want to scream.
His hand was warm. That's not—the trail. Where was I stepping. What was I doing before I had hands on me. Not hands on me. A hand. One hand. On my elbow. Which is a normal place to grab someone who's falling and I need to stop thinking about his hands.
"Mel?"
"Fine. I'm fine. Roots."
Kestria's watching me with an expression I'm choosing not to interpret.
The trees thin eventually. Stumps, cleared patches, worn paths that widen the way paths do when regular feet use them. Human territory. My throat tightens.
"Market's just ahead. Through those birches."
Keer stops.
"I'll wait here."
"You don't want to—" I stop. Obviously he doesn't. Kestria's already shaking her head.
"The scars. The size. The—" She waves a hand at all of him. "Not exactly inconspicuous."
Right. Missing eye, torn ear. Built like a sexy lumberjack—
"Fine. Wait here."
"Take your time." He leans against a tree. "I'll be watching."
I push past Kestria toward the birches.
Market. Chickens. Rooster. Goat—definitely now. I will buy out the whole damn herd.
I grab the large bag of coins Keer threw in the bag and jiggle it, grinning at Kestria.
“Lets go shopping”