Kael woke with a sharp inhale, the echo of the creature’s screech still clinging to his thoughts like a half-remembered nightmare. His hands trembled as he reached for the clay pot. He splashed cold water onto his face, letting it drip down his chin until his breathing finally slowed.

  Morning mist drifted across the plain as he stepped outside the tower. Pale, quiet, harmless yet his nerves hummed beneath his skin.

  I need to keep moving.

  Standing still only let fear creep closer.

  He tested the weight of the spear in his hands, then turned toward the forest behind the village the ordinary one, not the strange glowing stretch near the river. He didn’t plan to go far. Just enough to remind himself he could.

  The forest accepted him in silence.

  Leaves crunched softly underfoot as Kael practiced a few cautious thrusts, movements awkward but improving. His shoulders loosened slightly. Then something small darted across the forest floor, vanishing into the hollow of a fallen trunk a short distance away.

  He froze.

  It wasn’t far.

  But it was farther than he’d meant to go.

  Kael swallowed and took a slow step forward, spear raised. Then another. The forest didn’t react no screech, no sudden movement only the soft creak of old wood as he leaned over the trunk’s edge.

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  Two bright eyes stared back at him.

  Wide. Frightened. Glowing faintly, like amber catching weak light.

  A small creature huddled inside the hollow. Fox-like in shape, but heavier, its fur thick like a wolf pup’s and marked with pale streaks that looked almost like frost. It trembled violently, ribs too visible beneath its coat.

  For a moment, instinct whispered the practical thought.

  Meat.

  He hadn’t eaten properly in days. Not enough to matter.

  Kael’s grip tightened on the spear.

  Then loosened.

  Slowly, he lowered it and reached out an empty hand.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly.

  The creature didn’t flee.

  After a long, fragile pause, it crawled forward, sniffed his fingers and pressed its head into his palm. The warmth surprised him. The trust hurt.

  Kael’s chest tightened.

  “What happened to you…?” he murmured.

  When he lifted the pup, it didn’t struggle. It simply curled against him, exhausted, breath shallow but steady. That alone told him enough whatever world this creature came from hadn’t been kind.

  He carried it back to the watchtower, heart lighter than it had any right to be. The pup stirred occasionally but never pulled away. Kael tried to think of a name something fitting for the pale markings and glowing eyes but nothing felt earned yet.

  As evening crept in, he realized something else.

  He hadn’t thought about the monster all day.

  The pup explored the tower cautiously, sniffing broken stone and scattered straw. Then it froze. Its ears flattened, and a low, uneasy whimper slipped from its throat aimed toward the fireflies drifting near the tower’s edge.

  Kael frowned and stepped outside.

  Nothing.

  When he returned, the pup’s eyes caught the fireflies’ glow, reflecting softly in the dim light.

  Night settled in.

  Kael made a small bed of straw beside his own, but the pup wanted nothing to do with it. It whined and struggled until Kael gave up entirely. The moment he lay down, the creature climbed onto his chest, curled into a tight ball, and released a quiet, content huff.

  Kael froze.

  Then slowly exhaled.

  Warmth real, living warmth spread through him. He rested a hand over the small body and let his eyes close.

  For the first time since arriving in this broken world, Kael slept without fear tightening his chest.

  Not safe.

  But not alone.