She'd learned not to envision a future that stretched beyond the sunrise, learned to anchor her expectations to the next safe zone, the next safe hour. But here, in this manor that smelled of old wood and fresh soap and the sweetness of her cub's laughter, she felt hope uncurling inside her like a new shoot splitting the earth.
She stepped deeper into the room, knelt carefully to Luna's level, and helped her tuck the fortress walls into place. Frost watched, wide-eyed and solemn, as if uncertain whether he belonged in this sanctuary, and Felicity reached for him without thinking. The boy melted into her arms, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for the permission to do so. She held both children close and promised herself, voicelessly, fiercely, that this room would never be taken from them.
