After lunch, they walked through the town square, which had been transformed into a vibrant winter marketplace. Colorful stalls were lined with books, parchment, woollens, trinkets, and charms, each vendor calling out to passing wolves with warm cheer.
The twins led Eila toward the academic section first. Stalls stacked with neatly bound tomes, ink bottles, quills, and parchment sheets filled the street. Eila pulled out her letter from MoonShine University, scanning the long list of required texts. Her brows knitted together.
"There's so much," she murmured, tracing her finger down the neat handwriting.
Before she could dwell on it, Lukas gently took the list from her hand. "Don't worry. We'll handle this."
He began checking each item with the bookseller, his voice calm and efficient. Zois, meanwhile, stacked a few extra volumes on history and strategy for himself. When Eila protested that she could manage, Lukas only gave her a faint, knowing smile.
"You'll have enough to worry about. Let us take care of this," he said, handing over the payment before she could stop him.
Her lips parted, but no words came. She realized she wasn't just touched—she was unsettled, because the gesture felt less like generosity and more like an unspoken claim.
Next, they turned to the winter merchants. Woollen coats lined with fur, thick mufflers, leather gloves, and knitted caps hung in neat rows. Eila tried on a deep green coat that fell just past her knees, its collar trimmed in soft grey fur. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she flushed. It suited her far too well.
Zois adjusted the collar, his fingers brushing her neck with deliberate slowness. "This one. You'll need it. The winds at Moonshine University cut sharper than blades."
Lukas nodded, already signaling to the merchant. "And this dress as well." He pointed to a lovely gown of midnight blue wool, simple yet elegant, its embroidery shimmering faintly like frost.
Eila stammered, "I—I don't need—"
"You will," Lukas cut in smoothly, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "For formal gatherings. You'll thank us later."
They added two more coats—one a softer cream lined with pale fur, the other a sturdier brown for everyday wear—along with mufflers and caps. Eila bit her lip, equal parts grateful and overwhelmed.
To balance it, she chose a few items herself. Three brooches and three mufflers—carefully picking colors she thought would suit her mates differently: deep blue for Leonard, steel-grey for Lukas, and warm crimson for Zois. For her family, she purchased matching woollen trousers, knowing how harsh winters bit through the workers' homes.
The twins didn't comment, but their eyes flickered when they saw the brooches. Zois leaned closer, his smirk faint but loaded. "You thought carefully about those colors."
Eila blushed, looking away. "It's nothing… just practical."
"Hmm." Lukas's voice was low, unreadable. "Practical… perhaps."
By the time they finished, their carriage was stuffed with parcels. The sun dipped low, painting the snow-tipped hills in molten gold as they finally made their way toward the Rosebud River Pack's guest quarters.
The Evening at the Guest Quarters
The inn where they stayed was a grand timber lodge overlooking the river, its walls fragrant with pine and smoke. Eila was given her own chamber—warm, spacious, with furs laid thick across the bed. Yet, even with the fire burning, she felt restless.
When night fell, she stepped out into the quiet corridor, her muffler wrapped around her shoulders. From the common hall below, she could hear the twins' voices—low, deep, indistinct.
Drawn by curiosity, she descended the stairs quietly. The firelight cast shadows over their faces as they sat together, but when she entered, their voices ceased. Both pairs of steel-grey eyes turned to her at once.
"You should be resting," Lukas said first, his tone soft but weighted.
Eila shook her head, managing a small smile. "I couldn't sleep."
Zois leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharper than his brother's. "Or maybe you didn't want to."
Her heart skipped. She suddenly felt too aware of their closeness, of the way the firelight softened their sharp features. The air seemed to thrum with something unspoken.
For a moment, none of them moved. The silence pressed around her, and she knew instinctively that if she stayed any longer, something between them would break its restraint.