"You're early and there's breakfast!" Eira was amazed.
Tristan woke up early to prepare breakfast for two. He wanted to surprise Eira that other than playing the violin, he could cook rice and fry eggs. Of course, boil tea as well.
"For once," Tristan smiled, turning to her. "Let's eat." They sat on the opposite side of the square table.
"Eira... before anything else…I need to thank you."
She blinked in surprise. "For what?"
"For everything," he said, voice firm. "For treating my wounds and restoring my hands. But more than that... for the respect. For the kindness. For never looking at me like I was broken beyond repair."
Her expression softened.
"You stayed up late when I had nightmares and waited for me to share when I'm ready. You never treated me like a problem to fix. Just someone worth helping."
Eira looked down, trying to hide the sudden wet shimmer in her eyes.
"I promised you a thank you performance," he added. "And I keep my promises."
She smiled. "Then I accept. But only if you let me make tea again."
After clearing their plates, Tristan brought out his own violin. The strings were now new, but the old wood was warm to the touch. He placed the bow across it, filling the safehouse with a sound both fragile and strong.
Eira closed her eyes, letting the music fill her heart. It was a melody still with pain, but more of gratitude and hope.
When the last note was hit, Eira clapped once, twice, thrice. "That's more than payment. That's a blessing."
Tristan exhaled and nodded.
They sat silently and Tristan broke the news. "I spoke with Lord Shannon last night. I'll be moving to a cottage near the city. Not too far."
Eira raised a brow. "Performing again?"
"Yes. Smaller venues first…family gatherings, town festivals, community halls. It'll help me rebuild confidence. And I've agreed to teach, too. Children, adults, anyone who wants to learn."
Eira grinned. "That suits you."
"I hope so. I want to earn my keep. The performances will cover my needs. I'll also start saving."
There was a moment of hesitation before Tristan added, "Lord Shannon filed for legal protection and restraining orders. My family and their business partners can't approach me without risking arrest."
Eira nodded. "It's wise. But I...I sense that you're still worried."
"I am. They might hire someone else. Someone who doesn't care about laws."
"Then you prepare," she said calmly. "Learn to defend yourself. And let others help you."
I am not strong enough to fight, and not rich enough to pay for guards. So I have to learn how to hide or disappear. But how can I do that when my performances will be in public?
"What about friends? Anyone waiting for you?"
No one.
He looked at her. "Will you visit me when I'm settled? Or should I come here again sometime?"
"Both," she smiled. "You'll always have tea waiting here."
"Won't you get bored when I leave?
She took her time answering. "It's not boredom I worry about. It's my safety.
Out there…" She gestured toward the forest. "There are still people who'd see me as a threat. Or a prize. Wolf-born who don't swear to a pack are unpredictable. Dangerous. People don't like unpredictable."
"So you're hiding?"
"I'm not hunted," she said. "But I'm not welcome everywhere either. This place gives me peace. Privacy. It lets me do what I'm best at."
"Helping people?"
She nodded. "That, and not getting dragged into politics."
Tristan looked thoughtful. "Isn't it lonely?"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "But less so lately."
He glanced at her, catching the meaning. "You mean me?"
"You're a decent company," she said. "For a stubborn, sarcastic, traumatized musician."
He laughed under his breath. "Thanks. I think."
"You reminded me that I should live my life and not just exist," she said.
Then, quietly, "I've been wondering… do you ever think about leaving? Not just for supply runs, but for good?"
"Sometimes," Eira said. "But I've made myself useful here. People find me when they need me."
"But have you found what you really needed?"
"Yes, I'm safe. That's basic. And if you're hinting at me finding a mate, that would come."
"Quite perceptive," Tristan chuckled.
"Me, what else do I need? I wanted to visit my grandfather. I can't for my own good."
Eira didn't interrupt. She let him speak.
"He'd be happy to know that I made it with the help of new friends."
She reached out to touch his hand. "He'd be proud."
And for a long moment, they just sat there…two people, bound not by blood or fate, but healing.
While fixing the treatment room, Eira brought out a folded travel cloak and laid it across the table.
Tristan frowned. "What's that?"
"For you," she said. "Shannon left it. Said you'd need it eventually."
Tristan ran his fingers over the fabric. It was warm, sturdy, and designed for travel.
He didn't say anything for a long time.
"I guess I would have to wait for word from Lord Shannon when they have set up my transfer near the city."
"I'm scared," he finally admitted.
Eira didn't look surprised. "You should be. You're starting a new life. But fear doesn't mean you're not ready."
"What if I mess it all up?" he asked. "What if I forget everything you taught me?"
"Then you come back," she said. "As simple as that."
That night, the wind picked up. No rain. No stars.
Tristan was writing a few notes for a new melody.
Eira was nearby, rolling up clean bandages, restocking her shelf.
"I would take a short walk for a while."
Eira nodded. "Good, it will clear your head."
He looked over at her. "Will you be okay?"
She blinked at him. "Of course. I always am."
But then she added, more softly, "Still. I'll miss the music."
Tristan smiled. "I promise to invite you to the first violin recital."
"I'd be expecting...just the first recital?"
"You decide if it's worth the trip."