Usually a beast bares its fangs in a rush for one of two reasons.

Either it rides a sun-warm wind and flaunts new-won power, or fear gnaws like frost and it lashes out to calm the chill.

Adelaide was the latter, a cornered wolf shivering under moonlight.

She clung to Mira like a last straw in floodwater, chest fluttering like a trapped bird, breath ragged and spent, as if wrestling a shadow.

But only she knew why she panted, and only she felt the mind split like torn silk.

No, I’m not... her!

A low, struggling murmur slipped out again, eyes screwed shut, her arms cinching Mira like an iron band.

Mira didn’t fight the choking grip; she didn’t flinch from the storm tide.

Sister, it’s okay.

She only folded Adelaide back into her arms, a quiet harbor holding off a gale.

I’m right here.

Mira’s words dropped like a soft ice cube into Adelaide’s boiling, bubbling mind.

For a breath, the soul-splitting ache ebbed like a wave.

Wrapped in that cool softness, camellia scent filling her nose, her heartbeat settled like falling leaves.

Sleep found her before she knew it, dusk drifting over a quiet pond.

When that camellia scent left her side, Adelaide’s eyes opened again, like shutters lifting to morning.

The ceiling overhead was strange, and she lay tucked under a quilt that held her like warm tide.

The mattress was silk-smooth and latex-soft, springing back to cradle her from every side.

Compared to the Empire’s linen slabs, it felt like an invention from another century, a clock from a future shore.

She’d only felt this in that dream, yet she didn’t notice; she didn’t linger to savor it.

A missing piece gaped like a pulled tooth, and she jolted upright, panic rushing like cold water.

Mira?! Where are you?

The answer was a lock turning with a crisp click, like a pebble tapping porcelain.

The door swung, and Mira came in from the hall with a tray in both hands.

I went to get breakfast; did something happen?

She sat at Adelaide’s bedside and set the tray down, steam curling like pale vines.

With that favorite scent back, the sting in Adelaide’s wrist faded like a thorn withdrawn.

She reined in her pounding heart, and a smile rose like sunlight after rain.

When I woke and didn’t see you, it scared me... next time, tell me before you step out, okay?

She didn’t hear how coy it sounded; a sweet pout under a veil, and Mira’s cheeks picked up a blush like peach petals.

I saw you were sleeping deep, so I left a note and didn’t wake you.

I’ll tell you next time I go fetch breakfast.

While Mira answered, Adelaide’s fingers brushed hers, then laced in when there was no pull away.

As before, a fine coolness flowed from Mira’s fingertips, a mountain spring running straight into Adelaide’s heart.

It’s alright; like this, she could keep the reins.

The tearing in her head eased, and she let out a long breath, mood bright as a clearing sky.

So, breakfast?

It smells so good—

Her words cut off like a string snapped.

On the bamboo tray sat not knife and fork, but two slim sticks, tapered at one end—chopsticks.

There was white steamed rice cake pocked with bubbles, like honeycomb.

There were crystal dumplings so clear you saw the shrimp inside, like frost catching sunlight.

And a white rice noodle roll cut in sections, green leaves on both sides, dark-red sauce gleaming like lacquer.

These should be the Elves’ breakfast.

I haven’t tried them, but the folks eating downstairs seemed to love them.

Even Kabos—the only one who lived through Firefly’s ambush—said he’d pack a share if there was extra.

Adelaide stared blankly at the tray, Mira’s talk of Kabos’s chef blood and trusty palate washing past like rain on stone.

Until Mira tried to take up the chopsticks.

It’s my first time, but Elven taste shouldn’t be far from ours.

I just don’t know how to use this utensil.

Do you know, sister—

—Ha... haha, I-I don’t really know either.

The forced laugh jumped out, a tin bell in a temple, and she cut Mira off.

The odd note drew Mira’s eye.

She looked at the food, then up at Adelaide; when her lips parted, Adelaide’s heart was ready to burst like an overripe pomegranate.

Speaking of which, I think I fell asleep early yesterday...

Did anything else happen?

The Elves must’ve mentioned what comes next for us, right?

The pivot was stiff as dry wood, nothing like Adelaide’s usual silvered tongue, but she held to it.

After all, she wasn’t ready for Mira to ask.

She’d never seen any of this, yet she knew chopsticks, shrimp dumplings, rice rolls by name, like names carved in bone.

If Mira learned that... no.

No one could know about that dream, not anyone but herself.

A fresh rip started in her soul like paper tearing, but Mira closed her mouth.

Confusion still flickered in her eyes like dusk stars, yet she didn’t ask the feared question.

I didn’t actually see the Elves.

They just left the breakfast in the dining hall.

When we got up, they’d all gone, like mist burning off.

They probably don’t want to run into us much.

Adelaide took the step she was offered, like a foot finding a stone in a stream.

As the tales say, the Elves look down on us humans.

If they can avoid us, they will; the sooner we roll out, the better, in their eyes.

Mira tilted her head, thinking, like a bird listening in grass.

But they don’t seem ready to give the convoy supplies for the return right away.

Eh? Did the goods left on the wagons fall short for barter?

For a blink she thought the Elves would gouge us, a lion with fire behind it.

But Mira shook her head.

No.

The holy-water vitality tonic left in the convoy is more than enough to trade for food.

Rather than not enough, it’s more like they don’t want to trade.

Don’t want to?

The leader said that when they went to negotiate, the one in charge told us to wait here.

A big figure will come in person to handle our case.

...A big figure? Why?

I don’t know.

But from what I’ve heard, they care a lot about the Tatapakari Village incident.

Adelaide propped her chin and thought, clouds snagging on a peak.

Something felt off, a burr under cloth, but she wasn’t fully herself.

The tearing rolled back through her head like returning surf, and no clear answer came.

One thing was simple, though.

She lifted her gaze to Mira.

Luck’s with us; that’s good news.

Mira watched her, puzzled, like a cat at a new sound.

We don’t know their aim.

But for us, staying means more time to work.

You mean Savia Rose...?

Mira’s eyes lit with understanding, like a lamp catching.

Mm.

But extra time doesn’t mean we can waste it.

Adelaide lowered her voice and glanced at the unopened wooden window, leaf-shadows dappled on the gauzy white.

Tonight, we start moving.