Alara and Krane decided it then, to stay in their tribe. We stood in the center of the hawk village, surrounded by the wreckage of war and the beginnings of renewal, as they told me their choice. At first they had planned to stay in our tribe, to build a new life among the Lion beast, but now that their tribe no longer had any threat, now that Rina and her followers were dead and their tribe had their wings restored, they decided it was best to stay and rebuild their home.
"I cannot leave them," Alara said softly, her hand resting on her belly, her eyes scanning the faces of her tribe members as they tested their healed wings, tentative flights carrying them inches above the ground, then feet, then soaring. "After my father’s death, and Aleric’s death, I am the only bloodline left to lead this tribe. They are broken, Krys. They need leadership. They need someone who’ll help them become whole again."
I was sad, of course. That meant I would not see Alara whenever I wanted anymore, would not have her nearby to laugh with or confide in. The friendship we had forged in fire and blood would now stretch across distance and time, reduced to visits and messages. But I was happy for her. She was happy where she was, surrounded by her own tribe, her wings spread wide in the golden light of dawn, her mate at her side, her future secure. That was all that mattered.
They threw all the bodies of the deceased; Rina and her mates, Rowen, Hielo and their followers, the traitors, the fallen; into the middle of the village square and set them ablaze. The pyre burned high and hot, consuming the dead, the smoke rising in a black column that seemed to touch the sky. They stood around it, the surviving hawks, their faces solemn, their wings folded, hoping that the beast gods would have mercy on the souls of those who had been led astray, those who had chosen cruelty over kindness.
After the flames died to embers and the last prayers were whispered, we bid our goodbyes. Alara held me so tightly I could barely breathe, her tears wet against my neck. "Thank you," she whispered again and again. "Thank you for everything. For saving us. For saving me."
"Come visit," I told her, my own voice thick. "Bring your young when they are born. Let them play with mine."
"I will," she promised. "I swear it."
Then Alara’s gaze drifted to the bundle in my arms; Rina’s three cubs, mewling and squirming against my chest.
"I dreamed of killing her," Alara said quietly, her voice barely audible over the wind. "Of burning everything she loved, just as she burned mine. When I saw them squirming near her I wanted to end them too. I am sorry, Krys. I am sorry I let my rage blind me to their innocence."
She looked down at the cubs in my arms, her eyes softening with genuine remorse. "I wanted to kill them," she admitted, her voice breaking. "But you stopped me. You gave me time to remember who I am, who I want to be. Not a monster. Not like her."
She reached out one trembling hand and stroked the smallest cub’s head, her claw retracted, her touch surprisingly tender. The cub mewled, nuzzling against her finger, and Alara’s breath caught.
"I am sorry," she whispered to the newborns, her voice thick with emotion. "Sorry that I saw your mother’s evil in your faces. Sorry that I almost made you pay for her crimes. You deserved better than that. Better than her. Better than my hatred."
She pulled her hand back, her eyes meeting mine with a weight of understanding. "They are not her," she said firmly. "Not yet. Maybe not ever, if you raise them right."
She cupped my cheek then, her palm warm against my skin. "Whatever you decide to do with them, Krys, I hope they turn out better than what their mother was. I hope they learn kindness from you, learn that the world is not just conquest and cruelty. Maybe... maybe saving them is the best revenge. To take her children and make them good, when she only knew evil."
I nodded, clutching the cubs tighter, feeling their tiny hearts hammering against my palms. "I will try," I promised.
"Then that is enough," Alara whispered. She pressed her forehead to mine, a gesture of sisterhood and forgiveness, of acknowledging that the cycle of vengeance ended here, with us, with this choice to save rather than destroy.
On our way back home, the beast men who had come with us; warriors from our tribe who had trained with my mates and answered the call to war; witnessed my powers as well. They had seen the blue light, seen the impossible healing, seen wings regenerate and wounds close before their eyes. Now they looked at me with different eyes. Some looked at me in awe, their expressions reverent, whispering prayers as I passed. Others in confusion, their brows furrowed, unsure what to make of the female who could perform miracles. And some... some did not see anyone different. Darius and Hendricks simply nodded when I met their eyes, Fern clasped my shoulder in passing, Thomas offered me water, and Silas joked about my appetite being unchanged. Layla’s mates too; Larry nickered a greeting, Thorne fell into step beside me without comment, Jared shared his rations, and Lennox complained about the mud just as he would have any other day. They saw me, Krys, their friend and ally, unchanged despite the revelation.
But the weight of those stares, the weight of what I had revealed, pressed down on me with every step.
Soryn witnessed my discomfort, the way my shoulders hunched, the way I avoided meeting eyes. He said nothing, simply wrapped his coils around me; around my waist, my legs, anchoring me to him and went on ahead of the group, his serpent form moving swiftly through the terrain, carrying me away from the stares and whispers.
When we were far enough that the others were merely dots behind us, he slowed, his head turning to look at me with those kind emerald eyes. "Do not read into it too much, Krys," he said, his voice soft and rumbling through his chest. "You just did the impossible. You just saved everyone, not to mention you gave those who lost all hope a chance to hope again. You are a miracle in this world. Some will understand, and some will treat you as a bad sign, something to fear or exploit. But no matter what... you have us. We love you, and it does not matter what anyone else thinks. We got you."
I rubbed his scales, his emerald body still beautiful under the moonlight, cool and smooth and comforting. "Thank you, Soryn," I whispered, and some of the tension drained from my shoulders.
That night we gathered to camp in a hollow between hills, the wind cutting sharp and cold. The others, those who had witnessed my power, kept their distance, their fires separate, their eyes averted when I looked their way. But my mates stayed by my side, their bodies forming a wall of warmth and protection around me. Layla’s and Rhonda’s mates stayed near as well, their quiet acceptance a comfort in the chill darkness.
"They are idiots," Aureon muttered, glaring at the distant fires.
"Leave them be," Ravin said, his voice tired but gentle. "They just do not know anything. They are processing."
"Still," Leon growled, his golden fur bristling, "they are making our female upset."
"Krys," Veylan said softly, his silver wolf form pressing against my side, "just look at us and do not think about anything else. We are here. That is all that matters."
"Krys," Caelion said, his eyes sad and earnest, "you have us. You know that, right? No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says or thinks... you have us."
Soryn said nothing, simply wrapped his tail over me, holding me protectively, letting me know he was right there and I should not be scared.
I smiled despite everything, despite the fear and uncertainty that still churned in my gut. Yes. I had my mates. That was all that mattered.
I breastfed Rina’s cubs, the three tiny cheetahs mewling and squirming in my arms. I was not entirely sure what I planned to do with them yet. Maybe it was because I had a hand in killing their parents, or maybe because I knew they were innocent of their mother’s crimes, but I felt responsible for them. I should be the one to raise them, to teach them kindness instead of cruelty, to show them that the world was not only violence and conquest. I had not talked to my mates about it yet, had not broached the subject of adopting the children of our enemy. But once we reached the village, once we were home and safe and the dust had settled, I would tell them my thoughts. I would ask them. And I would hope they understood.
The two days of travel back were harder than the journey there, weighted by exhaustion and revelation. We moved slower, making every step an effort. We slept in caves when we could find them, huddled together for warmth, my mates taking turns keeping watch while I fed the cubs and tried to rest. The mountains seemed steeper going back, the forests darker, the rivers colder. But we pressed on, driven by the promise of home, of safety, of a future we had fought to secure.
And on the morning of the third day, when the sun rose over the familiar peaks of our own territory, when the scent of our village reached us on the wind, I knew we were almost there. Almost home.
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