Morning came with the pale gold of sunrise spilling over the camp. Nyara woke to the sound of canvas shifting in the breeze and the low, steady hum of voices beginning the day's work. She had curled herself into the corner of Hava's tent through the night, the elder female's scent — warm and faintly spiced — wrapping around her like a shield.
Hava, a snow leopard beastman with pale, rosetted fur and a calm, watchful presence, was already awake, folding blankets with slow, precise movements. Her thick tail flicked lazily from side to side.
"You slept through the night," Hava said softly, glancing over her shoulder. "That's a good start."
Nyara sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't... dream much."
"That's the river's doing," Hava replied, a faint smile touching her lips. "It washes more than fur."
The flap of the tent shifted, and Luro ducked inside. The young lynx beastman's tufted ears twitched as his amber gaze swept the space. "Hava, Taren says the western team is ready to move the carts." He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to Nyara. "And... breakfast is nearly gone."
"Then we'll go before it is," Hava said, setting the folded blankets aside. She reached to ruffle Nyara's hair gently — a gesture no one else in camp had yet dared. "Come on, little shadow."
Outside, the camp was alive with movement. Males hauled ropes and checked harnesses, while the scent of cooked grain and dried fruit wafted from a central table. Nyara stuck close to Hava's side, her ears swiveling at the rumble of deep voices and the scrape of wood on stone.
Hava led her to a quieter corner where a pot of hot porridge sat, guarded only by a drowsy fox beastman who nodded politely at their approach. Nyara took her bowl and ate in slow, measured bites.
"You don't have to talk to anyone yet," Hava murmured, sitting beside her. "But you should watch. Learn their faces, their scents. Know who will protect you if you need it."
Nyara's gaze wandered. Luro stood a short distance away, speaking with two older males. Even in conversation, his eyes seemed to track her from the corner of his vision — not unkindly, but with an awareness that made her fur prickle.
When she glanced back to Hava, the snow leopard's expression was unreadable. "He's careful," Hava said quietly. "That's not a bad thing. But for now, your comfort comes first."
The words sank into Nyara's chest like the warmth of the morning sun. For the first time since the hollow tree, she felt a small, stubborn seed of safety take root.