Chapter 74
Moonlight gave way to the thin gray of approaching dawn, a pale wash filtering through the branches. The ground turned from blue-shadowed earth to frost-kissed gold. The cold deepened. The girls weakened.
Mingxi carried Poppy close to his chest, her heartbeat faint against his skin. Her breath misted in shallow bursts, too slow, too soft. His stride never faltered, but his jaw tightened with each uneven inhale she took.
Caelan followed closely with Lysandra slung across his back in a way that would have been undignified for anyone else. She drifted in and out of consciousness—sometimes whimpering, sometimes laughing, sometimes whispering about things none of them understood.
“The trees are wrong,” she murmured once. “The shadows are folding.”
“I know,” Caelan muttered. “Hold on.”
They made it another mile before Lysandra’s body convulsed with a shuddering breath. At the same moment, Poppy’s fingers spasmed weakly against Mingxi’s sleeve.
Both men stopped instantly.
Mingxi’s voice was calm, but the calm that comes just before something breaks. “We’re stopping.”
Caelan nodded sharply. “Yes.”
They chose a hollow between two boulders just off the deer path, sheltered from the wind. The moment Mingxi set Poppy down, her head lolled, body folding like exhausted silk.
“Yueguāng,” he whispered, catching her cheeks between his warm hands. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”
Her eyelashes flickered once, the barest acknowledgment. It was enough.
Caelan gathered fallen branches. Mingxi conjured foxfire, coaxing it beneath the dry tinder until it flared in a controlled burst—blue-white, warm, steady.
The fire spread in a ripple of light across the clearing.
Mingxi watched as Poppy instinctively curled toward it, her body seeking warmth even unconscious.
Lysandra groaned as Caelan settled her near the flames. Her eyes were wild around the edges, darting frantically, staring at something unknown.
“I can’t tell what’s now,” she whispered, trembling. “Everything’s layered. Too bright… too loud…”
Caelan crouched beside her, voice low but firm. “Eat first. We’ll untangle the rest later.”
They worked in tired silence. Caelan pulled smoked river fish and pressed broth tablets from his satchel. Mingxi unpacked his fox-clan travel kit—a neatly wrapped bundle containing lotus cakes, herbal tonics, dried persimmons, and sweet rice balls tied in leaf packets.
Caelan’s mouth twitched as he looked at Mingxi. “You always carry this much?”
Mingxi didn’t look up. “It’s called preparedness.”
Caelan snorted softly. “It’s called overpacking.”
“It’s called,” Mingxi repeated evenly, “preparedness.”
He heated broth in a metal cup balanced on a stone, added herbs for grounding and mountain greens from Caelan’s supply. When it was warm, he tested a spoonful on his wrist. Then he slid an arm beneath Poppy’s shoulders and lifted her gently.
“Yueguāng… can you drink?”
Her lips parted weakly, and he fed her one careful spoonful at a time, watching the color creep back into her cheeks, the faint tension ease from her brow. Across the fire, Caelan did the same with Lysandra, though she choked on visions more than once.
“Shadows… anchors… silver tide…” Her words slurred. “Not her… not yet…”
“Eat,” Caelan murmured. “That’s all you need to do.”
When both bowls were empty, there was finally quiet. They sat opposite each other across the fire. Poppy slept between them, wrapped in a thick cloak. Lysandra lay on the other side, her breathing thin but even.
For a long time, neither man spoke.
Finally, Caelan said, “She saved us.”
Mingxi didn’t ask which sister he meant. “Both of them did,” he said quietly. “In different ways.”
Caelan nodded once, staring into the flames. “The prophecy… about me…” he began.
“It wasn’t about Poppy,” Mingxi said immediately. “Lysandra was clear.”
Caelan exhaled. “Still unsettling.”
“Everything she says is unsettling,” Mingxi muttered. “Even the first time I met her.”
Silence settled again until Caelan looked at Mingxi more directly.
“You care for her.”
Mingxi didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He looked down at Poppy. Wisps of her hair glowed faint gold in the firelight.
“She is…” He swallowed. “More than I expected.”
Caelan’s brow lifted. “More than you’re allowed?”
Mingxi didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“You rest first,” Caelan said, pushing to his feet. “I’ll take first watch.”
Mingxi shook his head. “I’m not leaving her.”
Caelan’s expression softened a fraction. “Then sleep beside her. I’ll keep eyes on the perimeter.”
Mingxi hesitated—only for a breath—and then nodded. He lay down beside Poppy, close enough that their warmth mingled. Then he exhaled, letting instinct take over, and wrapped his tails around her. All six of them, although he didn’t realize it at first.
Foxfire warmth radiated through the fur, enclosing her like a living blanket. Poppy breathed in sharply, curling into him, fingers unconsciously gripping the nearest tail. Mingxi froze because…
Wait. That tail wasn’t supposed to exist. He twisted just enough to look behind him and counted again. A sixth tail shimmered faintly in the firelight, the newest fur still silver-white at the tips, like moonlit frost.
Mingxi stared at it, expression blank. Then, he said, “What?”
Across the fire, Caelan choked. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said, barely containing a laugh. “But yes. That’s new.”
Mingxi’s ears flattened. “It shouldn’t be there.”
Caelan shrugged. “Well, it is.”
Mingxi stared at the traitorous floof like it had personally betrayed him.
Poppy mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed. “M’fluffier… why’re you… softer?”
Mingxi shut his eyes and prayed to every ancestral spirit he had ever ignored.
The fire had burned down to a steady glow by the time Poppy stirred again. It began with a faint tightening of her fingers around Mingxi’s sleeve—tiny, instinctive. Then her breath hitched, throat working as if she were trying to swallow away some heavy dream.
Mingxi leaned over her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Yueguāng,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”
Her brow furrowed, and then her eyes opened. Slowly. Dazed. But open. The forest reflected in her pupils before her gaze finally settled on the warm line of Mingxi’s throat, then the edge of his jaw, and then his eyes—dark, tired, and unbearably relieved.
She blinked. Once. Twice. “Mingxi?” Her voice was papery-soft.
He exhaled the tension easing from him. “Yes,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
He pulled her closer without thinking, the wrap of his tails tightening instinctively around her body. Her eyes dropped to the silvery cocoon around her, and she frowned faintly.
“That’s a lot of tail,” she whispered.
Mingxi went absolutely still.
Caelan, from across the fire, choked on a laugh and attempted to turn it into a cough. It didn’t work.
Poppy blinked again, still sleepy, still obviously confused. “I thought you had…” She squinted. “Five?”
Mingxi’s voice was tight. “I… did.”
Poppy lifted one hand with all the effort of someone lifting a boulder and let her fingers sink into the soft, warm fur of the new tail. The newest one. The one that hadn’t existed the last time she saw him conscious.
“Oh,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. “It’s… softer.”
Mingxi stared at her, a mixture of awe and mortification flickering across his features.
Caelan muttered under his breath, “That’s one word for it.”
Poppy’s drowsy smile faded as a hoarse whisper drifted across the fire.
“Poppy?” Lysandra said.
She was half sitting, braced against Caelan’s arm, her tangled hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was pale, the scars faint but visible, and her eyes were clear. Not all the way, but clearer than they had been since the ritual.
Caelan shifted behind her, lifting her into a half-sitting position so she wouldn’t collapse forward. She leaned heavily against him, her head resting briefly against his shoulder, breath trembling with exhaustion.
Her gaze lifted and immediately found Poppy.
Poppy lay nestled against Mingxi’s chest, and he kept his arm steady around her ribs, tails wrapped around her like a protective, furred cocoon. Her eyes were closed, breath shallow but alive.
A soft, relieved sound escaped Lysandra’s throat. “You’re alive,” she whispered. The words cracked. “I saw so many endings where you weren’t.”
Poppy stirred faintly in Mingxi’s hold, murmuring, “Lysa… I’m here.”
Lysandra’s lips quivered into the faintest smile, but then her eyes drifted past Poppy. Slow. Dragging. As if pulled. They locked on Mingxi, and her entire demeanor changed. She didn’t grow rigid—she was too weak for that. She simply… focused.
Sharp.
Knowing.
Terrified.