**The first few days passed like a dream soaked in heat, coal smoke, and the clang of hammers.**
Alpha remained in the workshop.
At first, he didn't know if he was welcome or just a strange visitor the blacksmith had taken in because the fire hadn't spat him out. But as time passed, small things began to change: a sleeping space was set aside for him, a plate was handed to him at meals, and he was no longer watched as closely as before. Instead, he became part of the daily backdrop—an odd but gradually familiar piece of the scenery.
The blacksmith's name was truly *Ihram*, as Alpha repeated to himself many times until he got it right.
Ihram was a man of few words, even with his own family. He lived with his wife and two children: a young girl named *Mai*, no older than seven, and a boy a few years her senior named *Teo*, pale-faced but with eyes brimming with curiosity.
