Chapter 131

The feast had been everything I had hoped for and more. I laughed until my sides ached, ate until I could not manage another bite, and spoke with more Tiger women than I could possibly remember. They crowded around me with eager eyes and hopeful questions, each one wanting something unique, something personal, something made by my hands for their bodies.

Reona had been magnificent. She moved through the gathering like a queen, which she was, her voice carrying authority and warmth in equal measure. When one young female suggested that perhaps I could simply teach them to make their own clothes, Reona had fixed her with a look that silenced the suggestion before it could fully form.

"She will not teach you for free," Reona had declared, her hand settling possessively on my shoulder. "She will not give away her skill as though it were nothing. She is a craftswoman. A creator. And creators deserve payment for their labor."

The young female persisted, her eyes earnest and pleading. "But if she taught us, we could make our own. We would not need to trouble her for every garment."

Reona turned to her fully then, her expression softening but firm, the voice of experience speaking to youthful impatience. "Child, do you understand what you are asking? Look at the stitching on this skirt." She gestured to the pale fabric draped around my hips, the tiny, even seams invisible from a distance but intricate up close. "Each stitch is placed with precision. Each seam is reinforced in a specific way. The embroidery alone took hours of concentrated work. This is not a skill learned in a day, or even a season. This is mastery earned through years of practice, through ruined fingers and countless failures."

She paused, her hand tightening on my shoulder with affection and protection. "And consider," she continued, her voice carrying across the gathered women. "Krys has just laid her clutch. She has seven eggs to care for, a nest to maintain, a body still recovering from the toll of creation. She cannot sit for hours teaching unskilled hands what took her years to perfect. She must rest when she can. She must be with her young. To demand she teach you now, in this season of her life, is to demand she sacrifice her own wellbeing for your convenience."

The young female’s cheeks flushed with shame, her head bowing slightly. "I did not think," she murmured. "I did not consider."

"No," Reona agreed, gentler now. "You did not. But you will remember now. You will remember that skill has value. That time has value. That a female who has just given life deserves to be honored and compensated, not burdened with expectations."

She turned to the crowd then, her voice rising to reach every ear. "You want what she can create. You want the beauty and comfort of her craft. Then you will pay for it when she delivers, and you will be grateful for the opportunity. You will bring her gems and stones when she completes your garment, things of value, items she can trade. You will show her that her work matters, that her time matters, that she matters."

The women nodded, murmuring agreement, their expressions shifting from entitlement to understanding. One elder stepped forward, her hands weathered from years of labor, and spoke with the gravity of one who understood fair exchange. "When you finish my garment," she said, "I will bring you stones from the eastern river, polished by water until they shine like stars."

Another spoke up from the crowd, her voice eager but respectful. "I have dried herbs, rare medicines, stored for three seasons. They are yours when you complete my skirt."

Another offered, "I carved bone combs, fine and strong. Payment for your labor, when you finish."

This was how it worked among the Tiger people, how craft and value exchanged hands, trust given and received across the span of creation.

Reona watched it all, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She leaned close to me, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for my ears. "You see? They understand. You will work when you can, as your clutch allows, and they will pay when you finish. You are family now, and family protects family. I will not let them take advantage of you, little one. Not while I draw breath."

I looked at her, at this fierce, magnificent female who had welcomed me so completely, and felt tears prick at my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered back.

She smiled, sharp and warm. "Now promise them only what you can deliver," she instructed. "Your first loyalty is to your eggs, your cubs, your mates. Everything else comes after."

I did as she said, accepting each pledge with gratitude and grace, promising to create when I could, to work around the needs of my family, to honor their trust with my best effort. She had given me permission to value myself, and a family who would honor that value when the time came.

By the time Aureon led me home, my heart felt fuller.

Soryn was exactly where I had left him, curled within the nest he had built, his long green tail forming a protective circle around our seven eggs. His head snapped up at the sound of the door, his eyes sharp and alert, scanning for threat. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the readiness in his coiled muscles, the guardian who never truly slept.

Then he saw me. Saw Aureon behind me, and Ravin, and the others filing through the doorway. The tension melted from his body like snow in summer, his spine relaxing, his tail loosening its rigid curl. He exhaled, a sound that carried all the worry he had held in my absence.

"You are well," he said, and it was not a question but a confirmation, a prayer answered.

"I am well," I agreed, crossing to him and settling beside him in the familiar warmth of the nest. "Better than well. I am happy."

He leaned into me, his scales warm against my skin, and I felt the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfort of his presence.

Then the chaos began.

The children had enjoyed the feast very much, had eaten too much honey and meat, had run too far and laughed too loud. They were tired and wired, overstimulated and resistant to the very idea of sleep. Ravin tried to coax Atlas with soft words and promises of tomorrow’s adventures. Leon attempted to wrestle Jasper into his sleeping furs, a battle of wills that ended with both of them tangled on the floor. Caelion sang to the cheetah cubs, his soft tenor voice weaving lullabies that Kaizen and Zarek ignored in favor of chasing each other’s tails. Veylan simply picked up Tavren and held him, immobile, until the cub exhausted himself with squirming. Aureon resorted to bribery, promising Atlas, Chase and Ryder that they could train with the men tomorrow if only they would close their eyes tonight.

It was beautiful mayhem, the sound of a family full of life and love and stubborn, wonderful children who knew exactly how to give their daddies hell.

Through it all, Levy made her way to me. She climbed into the nest with the careful determination of a child who knew exactly where she belonged, settling herself against my side with a contented sigh. Her small body warmed against mine, her breathing slowing almost immediately as she claimed her place. Sleeping with me was her norm, had been since she was born, and I would not take that comfort from her, not for anything. I stroked her head and felt her relax completely, safe and loved and home.

Eventually, the men won their battles. One by one, the cubs succumbed to sleep, tucked into furs and nests throughout the house, their dreams no doubt full of feast and fire and the joy of being young. The house grew quiet, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire and the steady breathing of those I loved most.

I slept with Soryn’s tail curled around me, with Levy’s weight against my hip, with the warmth of seven eggs radiating against my body. I slept deeply and without dreams, the sleep of someone who had worked hard and loved harder.

The next morning brought new purpose. I rose with the sun, my mind already racing with plans and the order in which I would fulfill my commissions. Reona first, of course. She was Aureon’s mother, the mate of the chief, the highest standing female in this tribe. It was only right that she be first, that her garments set the standard for all others. I would make her something magnificent, something worthy of her status and her spirit.

She had come to me early, before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, while the morning mist still clung to the ground. Aro walked alongside his mother, sleepy and yawning, while Aria slept against her mother’s chest in the woven carrier.

"I am here to be measured," Reona had announced, her voice brisk and practical.

I had taken my measuring cords, the ones I had made from woven grass fibers, and wrapped them around her shoulders, her waist, her hips, calling out numbers and marks to Aureon, who wrote them down on a flat piece of bark with charcoal. Reona had stood straight and proud, unashamed of her body, the body that had borne children and led a tribe.

"Take care with the shoulder width," she had instructed. "I prefer freedom of movement. And the waist give me room to breathe and eat. I am not some young thing trying to catch a mate. I am a matriarch, and my clothes should announce it."

I had smiled, loving her more in that moment, understanding exactly what she wanted. "I will make you something powerful," I had promised. "Something that speaks of who you are."

She had touched my cheek then, her hand warm and rough. "You are a good girl," she had said. "Now make me beautiful."

After she left, I gathered my tools, my bone needles and my carefully hoarded thread, my chalk stones and the marked bark with her measurements. Soryn watched me from the nest, his eyes tracking my movements with the same intensity he gave the eggs.

"I will work here," I told him, settling cross-legged at the edge of the nest where I could touch the eggs even as I worked. "I will keep them warm. I will not leave you alone."

He nodded, gratitude softening his features. "Thank you," he whispered.

The morning unfolded in peaceful rhythm. I measured and marked, planned and prepared, while Soryn maintained his vigil. The cubs were outside, their energy unleashed on the world beyond our walls. Atlas and Ryder had found a new friend, some Tiger cub whose name I would learn later, and their shouts of joy carried through the open window. Chase had gone with his daddy, Leon proudly showing his son the ways of hunting, the knowledge passed from father to child since the beginning of time.

Jasper stayed with us. My little lion, my fierce protector, announced with absolute certainty that he was here to guard his siblings in the eggs. He positioned himself at the edge of the nest, his small body rigid with concentration, his eyes fixed on the clutch with the seriousness of a warrior on watch.

Soryn and I exchanged glances, neither of us daring to smile, honoring the boy’s commitment.

Thirty minutes later, Jasper was asleep. His head had nodded once, twice, and then he had simply folded onto the furs, his body curling instinctively toward warmth, his guard duty forgotten in the face of exhaustion.

Soryn looked at him, at this small cub who had tried so hard to be brave, to be strong, to be like his father. And then my serpent, my fierce and protective mate, smiled. It was a small smile, private and tender, the kind he showed only to our children and to me. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Jasper’s golden head, his hand stroking the soft fur with infinite gentleness.

"Little warrior," he murmured.

I watched them, my heart full to bursting, and thought that this was what happiness looked like. Not the feast, not the gems, not the admiration of strangers. This. A quiet morning. A family together. A child sleeping safe and loved. A mate who understood the depth of devotion, who shared it without question or reservation.

It really was a blessed day. Full and busy, yes. Chaotic and demanding, certainly. But calm in its center, warm in its heart, a day woven from threads of gold and love and the simple, profound miracle of being together.

I picked up my needle and began to stitch, creating something beautiful for my mother in law, surrounded by my eggs and my children and my mate, and knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be.