Chapter 34 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST
Serra emptied her stomach and washed her face. Her reflection was pale but alive. That sip of water had only burned her throat; it seemed the "Second Carrier" had dosed the poison to be slow-acting.
Dorian stood in the bathroom doorway, holding a towel like a statue. The worry on his face was so intense Serra had to laugh.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, taking the towel. "Just nausea. I'm poisoned, not pregnant. There's a difference."
Dorian’s lips twitched. "Don't let Valeria hear that. She'll start painting the nursery."
Just then, the locked bedroom door shook with a massive thud, as if made of paper. Then... another kick.
"Hey! Lovebirds!" Kael’s voice boomed through the oak. "Open up or I'm shoulder-barging it! I swear if I pop my stitches, I'm wiping my blood on your carpet!"
Dorian rolled his eyes, his shoulders dropping. That suffocating Alpha aura vanished. "God... Why didn't he die?"
He opened the door.
Kael stood there. No wheelchair. His chest was wrapped in bandages, leaning on a cane, but standing. Beside him were Valeria, carrying baskets, and Lukas, buried in his tablet.
"You guys are rotting," Kael said, limping inside. He sniffed. "Smells like fear and stale flowers. Disgusting."
"Kael, you need to be in bed," Dorian said sharply.
"Bed?" Kael laughed. "I've been in bed for three days. My back hurts. Besides..." He grinned at Serra. "I heard our sister-in-law put on a show saving our asses in the tunnels. I missed it. So, today we go out."
"Out?" Serra asked. "The palace is under lockdown."
"Not the palace," Valeria said, tossing the withered roses into the trash. "The woods. Northern slopes. Old-school hunt. No tech, no shields, no poison. Just us, fire, and fresh meat."
Dorian started to object, but Kael poked his cane into Dorian’s chest. "No objections, boss. If you try to send me back, I will bite the nurse. Serious."
(THE WOODS: FRESH AIR AND RIVALRY)
An hour later, they were miles away from the stifling palace, deep in the dense pine forests.
The air was freezing but clean. No rot. Just pine resin and earth.
Despite his injuries, Kael came alive in the forest. He tossed his cane aside. "Okay. Rules are simple. Lukas and Valeria start the fire. Dorian, me..." He looked at Serra. "...and you, we hunt. Deer, boar, whatever. No guns. No shifting. Just knives and speed."
Dorian zipped Serra's jacket. "You stay here. Help Lukas. It's cold."
Serra pushed his hand away. "Stop treating me like a baby, Volcan. Forgotten who saw that wire in the tunnel?"
Kael laughed. "Ooh, boss. Roasted by your wife." He tossed a bone-handled knife to Serra. She caught it mid-air. "Let's see. Who's faster? City girl or a wounded bear?"
The three scattered into the woods.
Running... For Serra, it was liberating. The crunch of leaves, cold air burning her lungs. Dorian was on her left, Kael on her right. Dorian stayed close, checking on her, but Serra sped up.
She found a track. Fresh droppings and a broken twig.
"Shhh," she signaled.
Dorian and Kael stopped. Kael looked where she pointed, about to whistle, but Serra shot him a glare. He covered his mouth, eyes laughing.
In the clearing, a large stag grazed.
"Mine," Dorian whispered.
"Yours?" Serra smirked. "I found it."
"I'm faster," Dorian said, flexing.
"But I'm quieter," Serra said, lunging forward before Dorian could move. She had calculated the wind. By the time the stag lifted its head, it was too late. Using hunter technique, not Alpha power, she tackled the animal by its antlers, bringing it down and breaking its neck with a clean motion.
When Dorian and Kael emerged, Serra stood over the stag, breathing hard.
Kael slapped Dorian’s shoulder. "Buddy... stay home and knit. Leave the hunting to your wife."
Dorian looked at Serra. No jealousy; only pure, admiring desire. "Shut up, Kael," he said softly. He wiped a smudge of mud from her cheek. "Good hunt."
(FIRESIDE CHATS)
By evening, they sat around a large fire. Venison roasted over coals. Valeria opened wine. Lukas, holding a meat haunch, looked bewildered by the wild setting.
"So," Lukas said, mouth full. "Is this what Alphas do? Picnic in the woods?"
"Normal Alphas don't," Valeria said, sipping wine. "Boring ones sit in the palace talking politics. But us..." She looked at Kael. "...we are broken."
"Not broken," Kael said. "Custom made."
Dorian sat behind Serra, pulling her between his legs, chin on her shoulder. The fearful Dorian was gone. Here, he was just a man with his family.
"Thank you," Serra said to the group.
Silence fell.
"For letting me in," she continued. "Since my father died... I haven't sat at a table like this. I haven't felt this... safe."
Valeria squeezed Serra’s hand. "You didn't choose us, Serra. But you stayed. You didn't run when Kael bled out. You didn't leave Dorian when he lost his mind. I don't care about bloodlines. You are one of us."
Kael raised his cup. "Welcome to the madhouse, sister. No exit."
Dorian tightened his arms around her, whispering, "Did you hear? No exit. They won't let you go."
"Who says I want to go?" Serra said, leaning back against him.
In that moment, there was no seed, no Vespera, no war. Just the fire, laughter, and peace.
At least until Lukas said, "Hey, did that shadow move?"
Kael threw a bone at him. "Relax, shorty. It's a squirrel."
But Dorian’s muscles tensed against Serra’s back. He knew the difference between a squirrel and a watcher.
His smile faded. He held Serra tighter. Peace was short-lived.