Chapter 9 – "Morning Among Lions."
Dawn found us wrapped in mist.
The air was cool enough to sting my nose, and the world was painted in silver and pale gold. The fire had burned low during the night, nothing left but glowing coals and the faint scent of smoke in the fur at my wrists.
I stretched, the ache of battle still humming beneath my skin. Every muscle reminded me of yesterday's fight—the clash of claws, the taste of crystal dust—but the memory of it thrilled me more than it hurt.
Luka was already awake, crouched near the stream that ran past camp. His reflection shimmered in the water, wild hair falling into his eyes as he cleaned his blades. He looked peaceful, almost too still for a warrior.
Chyron was sprawled across a sun-warmed rock nearby, one leg dangling lazily, his fox tail twitching with every breeze. "You move like you were born here," he murmured when he saw me watching. "Almost makes me forget you weren't."
"Almost?" I asked.
He smiled, sharp and knowing. "No beast forgets what's foreign. But you… you wear it better than most."
Before I could answer, Luka looked up. "Ignore him. He talks too much when he's bored."
Chyron's grin widened. "And you sulk too much when you're jealous."
The tension between them was familiar by now—rough, playful, and edged with something deeper neither would name. I found it oddly comforting.
Nox appeared from the treeline then, silent as a shadow, his mane catching the early light. He carried a small bundle of herbs in one hand. "Eat," he said simply, tossing a few roots toward me. "They'll ease the soreness."
I caught them, sniffed, and made a face. "They smell like dirt."
"They are dirt," Luka said with a smirk. "But it works."
I hesitated, then chewed the bitter roots. Warmth spread through me, dulling the ache in my shoulders. "How do you even find these?" I asked.
Nox shrugged. "You listen. The forest tells you where to look."
He said it so matter-of-factly that for a moment, I forgot how strange this world still was to me. Everything here seemed alive—the trees, the stones, even the wind that whispered between the rocks. I could almost hear it myself now, if I listened long enough.
Luka stood and stretched, water dripping down his arms. "We should hunt again before we leave. Smaller prey this time. The council will expect us fed when we return."
Chyron yawned, tail flicking. "You mean you're hungry."
"Both," Luka admitted.
I watched them move—so different, yet their rhythm had begun to feel natural beside me. Nox with his quiet authority, Luka with his fierce precision, and Chyron with that fox-born grace that made even stillness look like mischief.
For the first time since I'd woken in this world, I didn't feel like an outsider.
As the sun climbed higher, I walked toward the edge of the cliff, the valley stretching endless below. The wind tangled through my hair, warm and wild. Somewhere deep inside, my lion half purred.
Nox joined me without a word. He stood close enough that our shoulders brushed, and the contact sent a shiver through me—not fear, not heat, something quieter and steadier.
"Your instincts are sharpening," he said. "You feel it, don't you?"
I nodded slowly. "I think I do. Like something inside me is waking up."
He looked at me then, really looked—eyes golden, ancient, unreadable. "Good. You'll need that when we reach the Pride Circle. They'll test you."
I met his gaze. "Then I'll make sure they remember my name."
A low, approving sound rumbled in his chest. It wasn't quite a laugh, not quite a growl—something between pride and amusement. "That," he said softly, "is the right answer."
Behind us, Luka called that breakfast was ready, Chyron adding a joke about me earning the largest share. I turned toward them, the sound of their laughter echoing through the morning haze, and for once it didn't feel strange.
It felt like belonging.