Chapter 172

The rabbit family traveled with us through the morning and into the afternoon, their small forms moving with surprising speed despite the packs they carried. Sally and Oren kept close to our group, their ears rotating constantly, alert for any sign of danger, but their shoulders gradually losing the tense hunch of fear that had marked them when we first met.

Their children, two small rabbits named Sera and Bramble, were less cautious. Within an hour of walking together, they had abandoned their parents’ sides and were running alongside our cubs, their laughter ringing through the tall grass like bells.

Sera was close to Levy’s age, with soft brown fur and eyes like dark honey. She attached herself to Levy immediately, the two girls walking hand in hand, their heads bent together in whispered conversation. Bramble, younger and more energetic, chased after the cheetah cubs, Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek, who delighted in showing off their speed, darting ahead and circling back, their spotted coats flashing in the sunlight.

"They’re cheetahs," Sera said at one point, her nose twitching as she watched the cubs play. "Are they like the bad ones?"

"These are good cheetahs," Levy said firmly, her chin lifting. "They’re my brothers. They’re nice."

Sera considered this, her ears rotating as she processed this new information. "Can I pet them?"

"Ask them," Levy said.

Tavren, overhearing, stopped his running and approached the small rabbit girl. He sat down in the grass, his tail curled around his feet and presented his head for petting. Sera reached out tentatively, her small hand disappearing into his spotted fur.

"He’s soft," she whispered, delighted.

"He’s a show off," Kaizen called from nearby. "Pet me instead. I’m softer."

"You are not," Tavren protested.

"Am too."

"Are not."

The argument devolved into a wrestling match that ended with both cubs rolling in the dirt, giggling, while Bramble hopped around them in excited circles.

---

We stopped for a midday rest near a stand of trees that offered shade from the growing heat. The children immediately collapsed into the grass, exhausted from their play, while the adults set about preparing a simple meal.

Levy pulled out her doll, the one I had sewn for her from scraps of woven cloth, with unraveled flax for hair and two smooth pebbles for eyes, tied together with sinew thread.

Sera watched with wide eyes. "What’s that?"

"A tea party," Levy said, as if this were obvious. "Want to play?"

Sera nodded, scrambling over to sit across from Levy. Theo, who had been resting nearby, was recruited as a guest, sitting stiffly between the two girls while they pretended to pour imaginary tea into acorn cups.

"More tea, sir?" Levy asked him, holding up a leaf.

"Thank you," Theo said, playing along with the solemn dignity of a man attending a state function.

"You’re supposed to slurp," Levy instructed.

"I don’t slurp."

"Everyone slurps at tea parties. It’s polite."

Theo slurped. Levy beamed.

Sera picked up the doll, holding it with reverent care. "She’s beautiful," she whispered. "What’s her name?"

"Princess Mud," Levy said.

"That’s a strange name for a princess."

"She likes mud," Levy explained. "And helping people. And she’s brave. Braver than anyone."

Sera touched the doll’s yarn hair, her eyes wistful. "I wish I had a doll."

Levy looked at her, then at the doll, then back at Sera. She was quiet for a long moment, her small face serious with thought. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out a second doll, smaller than the first, made from scraps of cloth I had given her to practice her sewing.

"Here," Levy said, pressing the doll into Sera’s hands. "For you."

Sera’s eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," Levy said. "So you don’t forget me. And we can be friends. Even when you’re at your tribe and I’m at the ocean."

Sera clutched the doll to her chest, her eyes shining. "I promise," she said. "I promise I’ll be your friend forever. And I’ll name her... Princess Brave."

"That’s a good name," Levy said, satisfied.

The two girls hugged, their small arms tight around each other, their dolls pressed between them. I watched from where I sat, my heart aching with the sweetness of it, the easy generosity of children who had not yet learned to hoard their love.

---

By midafternoon, my body had begun to rebel.

The water pouches I carried, the ones I had been drinking from constantly, were no longer enough. Each swallow felt like pouring sand down my throat, dry and insufficient. My skin burned, not with the heat of the sun, but from within, as if my blood had turned to liquid fire.

I sat down hard on a rock, gasping, pressing my hands to my flushed cheeks.

"Krys?" Caelion was beside me instantly, his hand on my shoulder. "What is it?"

"Hot," I managed. "So hot. The water... it’s not enough. I need... I need..."

I didn’t know what I needed. The thirst was overwhelming, a craving that went beyond physical need into something primal, something desperate.

Soryn appeared on my other side, his cool hand touching my forehead. "You’re burning up," he said, his voice calm but tight with worry.

"Help me," I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. He sat behind me on the rock, his legs framing mine, and pulled me back against his chest. His body was cool, so blessedly cool, like stone in shadow, like water in deep places. I melted against him, a sob escaping my throat as the heat began to drain from my skin into his.

"Better?" he murmured against my ear.

"Yes," I sighed, my eyes closing. "Yes. Don’t move."

"I won’t," he promised.

I felt Leon’s presence before I saw him, the heat of his lion nature radiating like a furnace. He stood nearby, his arms crossed, his expression a mixture of concern and something else. Frustration, maybe. Or jealousy.

"Soryn’s cooler," I said, my voice thick, not opening my eyes. "I’m sorry. I just... I need the cold."

"I know," Leon said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. "It’s fine. He has what you need right now."

I cracked one eye open to look at him. "You’re not angry?"

"Briefly," he admitted, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "But I understand. Snake. Cold blood. It’s biology." He shrugged, his mane catching the light. "Besides, when winter comes, you’ll want me. When you’re freezing in some coastal storm, you’ll come crawling to your lion for warmth."

"Crawling?" I said, my lips curving despite my discomfort.

"Maybe begging," he amended. "Possibly crying. Admitting that I am superior in all ways."

"Never," I said, but I was smiling now, the heat receding as Soryn’s coolness seeped into my bones.

"For now," Leon said, looking at Soryn with mock grudging respect, "the snake wins. Enjoy it, Soryn. It won’t last."

"I’ll savor every moment," Soryn replied, his arms tightening around me.

Leon laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and moved away to help the others with the packs.

---

We parted ways with the rabbit family before the sun began its descent toward the horizon. The parting was tearful, especially between Levy and Sera, who clung to each other and exchanged promises to meet again.

Sally approached me, her ears drooping with emotion. "We live just three miles from here," she said. "At the rabbit tribe. Please, come visit us. When you’re settled. After the baby comes."

"I promise," I said, taking her hands. "Once I’m settled. Once the baby is born and strong. I’ll come find you."

"Thank you," Sally said, her eyes wet. "For everything. For protecting us. For your daughter’s kindness."

"Thank you," I said, "for trusting us."

Oren nodded to me, a gesture of respect between equals, then gathered his family and led them away, their small forms disappearing into the tall grass, heading toward their home.

We walked on, our group smaller now, our steps quicker without the rabbit children to slow us. The land began to change around us, the grass growing shorter, the air growing thick with salt and moisture. I could smell it now, faint but unmistakable. The sea.

We found a camping spot a few miles later, a sheltered hollow between dunes that offered protection from the wind. It would be our last night on land. Tomorrow, we would reach the ocean. Tomorrow, we would see the water.

I sat by the fire, Soryn still close beside me, his coolness a constant comfort. The stars were beginning to appear overhead, scattered across the darkening sky like diamonds thrown by a careless hand.

I breathed in deep, filling my lungs with the salt air. It tasted of promise and possibility, of depths unseen and worlds unknown. The breeze carried moisture that settled on my skin like a kiss, cool and welcoming, so different from the dry air of the plains we had left behind. My parched throat seemed to ease just from that breath, that taste of the water that waited for me.

I pressed my hand to my belly, feeling the flutter of movement within. The baby stirred, as if they too could sense how close we were. How close to home, to their father’s world, to the place where they would be born.

Around me, the fire crackled softly. My family settled into their fur beds, their breathing slowing as sleep claimed them one by one. Ravin came to sleep next to me, his arm draped over my waist, heavy and warm. Soryn’s cool presence pressed against my back. Somewhere in the dark, Aureon snored gently.

But I remained awake, my eyes fixed on the horizon where I knew the ocean lay, hidden by darkness and distance, but waiting. Always waiting.

The ocean waited. With its crushing depths and its floating gardens. With its singing currents and its silent pressure.

I didn’t know what waited for me in that blue world. I didn’t know if I would be strong enough, brave enough, capable enough of becoming what my child needed me to become. A mother who could breathe underwater. A mother who could surrender to the sea and trust that it would not swallow her whole.

But I knew I would try. I knew I would dive in, literally and figuratively, and give everything I had to bring this child safely into the world.

And I couldn’t wait.

I couldn’t wait to see the sun rise over water instead of grass. I couldn’t wait to feel the sand between my toes, the waves against my ankles, the buoyant embrace of salt water supporting my heavy body.

I couldn’t wait to hold my baby in my arms, to see their gills flutter, their tail swish, their eyes open and see me for the first time.

Tomorrow, I thought, my hand still resting on my belly. Tomorrow we reach the coast. Tomorrow everything changes.

The baby kicked, as if in agreement, and I smiled into the dark, nervous and excited and ready, so ready, for whatever came next.

The ocean waited. And I was coming to meet it.