Saturday, October 26th | Waxing Crescent Moon
Liora
By morning, the pull had learned restraint.
It was still there when Liora woke up, a quiet line drawn somewhere deep beneath her skin, but it no longer tugged insistently. It waited. Patient. Observant. As if it were learning her limits the same way she'd learned everyone else's.
That made it worse. It was yet another proof that she did not fit.
She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, cataloguing familiar sensations. Warmth pooled low in her body. The certainty remained coiled beneath her ribs, steady and contained.
Nyx hovered close, restless in a way that felt unfamiliar.
He's still there, Nyx offered. Not as a warning. A fact.
"I know," Liora whispered.
Nyx's presence shifted, attention angled outward rather than inward, instinct stretched thin between curiosity and vigilance. He didn't press. He tracked.
Beneath that, something else adjusted.
It didn't reach or react. It settled heavier, lower, as if bracing against the pull rather than responding to it. The sensation pressed through her hips and spine, grounding instead of drawing her forward.
She swallowed and sat up.
Saturday meant a looser schedule. No formal training. No classes. Pack duties rotated in shorter shifts, more about presence than productivity.
Wolves drifted through the commons — the wide central yard near the pack house where everyone eventually crossed paths, with the fire pit in the middle — in twos or small groups, the tension of the week eased into something almost careless.
Almost.
Liora dressed plainly, as always, choosing clothes that wouldn't draw attention or invite comment. She braided her hair back and stepped outside, careful not to look toward the tree line where the path dipped away from the Vale house.
The pull reacted anyway.
Not sharply. Not urgently.
Like a thread tightening just enough to be felt.
Nyx lifted his head.
He's close.
Liora exhaled and headed toward the pack house. Keeping busy was safer than wondering.
The morning passed quietly. She helped inventory supplies, updated the duty board under Crowe's watchful eye, and carried crates from storage to the common rooms. The work grounded her, the familiar weight in her arms matching the heavier presence settled inside her.
No one spoke to her more than necessary.
She preferred it that way. It was all she new. All she expected.
It was near midday, when the commons began to fill again, that she felt him before she saw him.
The pull shifted direction.
Her steps slowed.
Nyx stilled completely, attention narrowing to a fine point.
Across the open space, near the edge of the crowd, Eryx stood with two wolves she didn't recognize. Northwatch, then. His posture was relaxed, but his awareness flicked outward more often than his companions', as if he were tracking the space rather than the conversation.
He didn't look at her.
The pull tightened anyway.
Beneath it, the heavier presence in her body pressed downward, anchoring her feet to the ground instead of pulling her forward. A quiet insistence to hold.
Liora adjusted her grip on the crate she was carrying and kept walking.
Almost made it past.
"Liora."
Her name in his voice landed differently than she expected. Careful. Measured. As if he'd rehearsed it.
Nyx surged forward instinctively, alert and bristling, then held herself in check.
She stopped and turned.
"Yes?"
Eryx took a step closer, then stopped himself, leaving a respectful distance between them. Up close, the pull warmed, settling into her muscles with unsettling ease.
The other presence inside her shifted again, broad and still, as if assessing him not with curiosity, but with territory. It didn't reckonize him. It didn't refuse him either.
"I wanted to check on you," he said. "After last night."
"I'm fine."
Nyx disagreed silently, tension humming through her.
Eryx nodded, accepting the answer without argument. That surprised her.
"Good," he said. "That's… good."
Silence stretched.
She waited for questions. For pressure.
He gave neither.
Finally, she said, "You shouldn't talk to me."
"I know."
"And you're doing it anyway."
"Yes."
She studied him, trying to reconcile the steadiness of his presence with the disruption he'd caused. "Why?"
"Because pretending I didn't feel it won't make it go away," he said simply. "And because I don't want you thinking I'm ignoring you."
"That would be safer."
"For you," he agreed. "Not for me."
Nyx reacted sharply to that, something close to approval threading through her awareness.
The heavier presence inside her did not.
It held steady. Unmoved.
Liora shifted the crate against her hip, grounding herself. "People are watching."
"I know," Eryx said, glancing briefly around the commons. "That's why this stays brief."
He hesitated, then added more quietly, "And public."
Her chest tightened.
"You're being careful," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because whatever this is," he said, voice low, "it shouldn't cost you your safety."
The pull flared at that, sharp and confused.
Nyx pressed closer, uncertain.
The heavier presence pressed down, possessive without emotion. Still indifferent.
"I don't need protection," Liora said.
"I didn't say you did."
Eryx stepped back deliberately, giving her space. "If you ever want to talk somewhere quieter, you can tell me. If not, I'll respect that too."
Before she could respond, he inclined his head and walked away, rejoining his group as if nothing had happened.
Liora stood there longer than necessary, heart unsteady.
Conditional kindness, she thought.
Given carefully. Withdrawn just as easily.
She hated how much it affected her anyway. It shouldn't.
----------------------------------------
Eryx
Eryx had known better than to come.
Grimholt wasn't hostile, exactly, but it wasn't home. Every step through the pack lands carried the awareness of being watched, measured against expectations he didn't fully understand.
And then there was her.
The pull had woken him before dawn, sharp and unmistakable, dragging his awareness across distance with ruthless clarity. He'd spent hours pacing the edge of the Grimholt housing before finally giving in.
He hadn't expected fear in her scent.
That unsettled him more than the bond itself. Among all emotions he may have expected, fear was not one he anticipated.
From a distance, Liora moved like someone used to staying out of the way. Efficient. Quiet. Controlled. Blended in without trully blending.
But the bond didn't answer that version of her.
It answered something deeper.
Something that held instead of yielding. Something he couldn't place. Couldn't identify.
When she turned toward him in the commons, the pull tightened, warm and sure, and he had to consciously rein himself in. His instincts wanted to close distance. Claim space.
Something else in her scent resisted that pull. Dense. Grounded. As if she carried her own center of gravity.
Interesting.
Concerning.
He approached carefully, aware of every eye that flicked in their direction. His rank traveled with him even here. Upper Beta in Northwatch. High enough to draw notice. High enough to cause problems.
So he kept his distance.
Her responses were guarded, but not hostile. That gave him hope he didn't entirely trust. Hope he didn't know if it was deserved or unwarranted.
She accused him of being careful.
He was.
Grimholt ran on observation and hierarchy. A wrong move here wouldn't just affect him. It would mark her.
So he offered what he could.
Choice.
When he walked away, the pull eased but didn't vanish. It lingered — a steady presence, restrained but undeniable.
Good.
He wasn't ready for it to be over. Nor for it to be full.
By evening, he'd resolved to stay the few more days he still had permission to stay. Long enough to learn Grimholt's rhythms. Long enough to understand the lines he couldn't cross.
And long enough to see whether Liora would meet his gaze again when she thought no one was watching.