Chapter 77: Insider Information

Later that night, as the whole village gathers around long tables set up under strings of hanging lanterns to eat and properly celebrate Kamiko’s visit, the whole square filled with the smell of roasting root vegetables and something sweet baking somewhere behind the kitchens.

Lucien finds himself seated near the head of the table, sandwiched between the village chieftess and Brina, plates of roasted vegetables and something rich and stewed passing hand to hand down the length of the table amid a steady, cheerful roar of overlapping conversation.

The chieftess rises with her glass, tapping it once against the table for quiet, and the whole square gradually settles into something approximating attention. “To Kamiko,” she says, “and her guests, for gracing our quiet little village. May everything you two have planned for this region come to pass.” She gestures broadly at the surrounding fields, as if the future trade route is already visible somewhere out past the fence line. “Gods only know,” she adds, grinning wide enough to show teeth, “we could use some fresh, young blood coming through here regularly.”

“She just means she’s looking for something new to hump!” One of the bunnies further down the table calls out, entirely unbothered by decorum.

“You all know me far too well.” The chieftess lifts her glass higher, entirely delighted by the accusation.

The whole table cheers at that, mugs raised.

“They’re all ridiculous.” Brina, sitting stiffly beside her mother, mutters.

Her mother isn’t remotely finished. “Maybe all this new development,” she calls out, loud enough for half the table to hear, “will finally bring someone through who can properly bed my daughter, so the whole village can finally hear her howl the way nature intended!”

“Oh gods!” Brina folds forward in mortification, half sliding under the table entirely, groaning into her own hands.

“It’s okay. I share your pain.” Lucien says solemnly, watching from beside her.

“We are complete opposites in this.” She responds as she looks over at him like he’s lost his mind entirely. “I don’t want sex. You apparently can’t live without it.”

“It’s not about that specifically. It’s the principle of the matter.” He shakes his head slowly, sage and grave, entirely serious about the comparison. “We’re both surrounded, constantly, by people who simply don’t understand or respect our suffering.” He sighs, grim and heavy. “It’s been so hard. So lonely. So cold.” He wipes at one dry eye with exaggerated care, then reaches over to touch her hand gently. “But we’ll make it through. Together.”

“You really are insane.” Brina shakes her head slowly before pulling her hand away.

“Perhaps, a week ago. But now,” Lucien looks wistfully up toward the lantern-strung sky. “Things have never been clearer to me.”

Brina chuckles despite herself, shaking her head again, some of the earlier embarrassment finally easing off her shoulders.

Lucien glances between her and her mother, who was currently a few seats down, animatedly delivering what sounds like the setup to a genuinely filthy joke to a cluster of delighted listeners.

“You’re honestly the wolfiest bunny-kin I’ve ever met.” he says.

“I’m adopted. Obviously.” Brina groans, giving him a flat look. “Got abandoned as a wolf-pup, and the village took me in.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” Lucien says, and means it. “You’re lucky.”

She smiles at that, something genuine slipping through.

“I know. It was amazing. I couldn’t imagine a better life, honestly.” She smiles, mind drifting into something nostalgic. “Right up until I came of age. Now all anyone seems to care about is getting me laid so I can finally have my proper howl.”

“Proper howl? What does that mean, exactly?” Lucien tilts his head, confused.

“It’s an old wives’ tale, mostly.” She says, waving a hand, dismissive. “They say a wolf only gets their true, proper howl after their first… you know. Supposedly it changes the sound of it permanently, unlocks something. It’s ridiculous, honestly, but try telling that to an entire village of bunny-kin who’ve decided it’s their personal mission.”

Lucien leans back slowly in his chair at that, one hand rising to rub thoughtfully at his own chin, eyes distant.

“What’s that look for?” Brina cocks a brow at him.

He says nothing for a moment, eyes bright now with the unmistakable shape of an idea forming, the whole rest of the table and its noise fading briefly into background static while some private, delighted calculation plays out behind his eyes.

Grin already tugging hard at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to smother it, he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass instead, buying himself a moment to compose his face back into something more innocent.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “You’ve just given me something that’s going to make this difficult week considerably easier to bear.”

The next day, the caravan rolls into a fox-kin village built deep into a forest, homes carved directly into the landscape and grown up through the trees themselves, roots and roofs woven together so seamlessly it’s hard to tell where the architecture ends and the forest begins, dappled sunlight scattering across the path in shifting coins of gold.

Their arrival is met with the same warmth as the last village. Fox-kin of every age swarming the carriages the moment they roll to a stop, tails flicking with excitement, children darting between adult legs to get a better look at the visitors, a chorus of yips and barks rippling through the crowd like an alarm nobody’s actually worried about.

Lucien seems to be in considerably higher spirits than the day before, apparently coming to some kind of peace with his ongoing celibacy.

Serenith watches him move easily through the crowd, greeting villagers who flock to him the moment word spreads that he carries the Beast Mother’s blessing, and drifts closer, half-teasing.

“I’m actually impressed,” she says. “You’ve gone a whole day now without a single complaint.”

Lucien scoops up a pair of fox-kin children without breaking stride, settling one on each shoulder to their obvious delight, and tells her, without even glancing her way.

“Some things in life are more important than physical pleasure.” he mutters, sagely, like it cost him nothing at all.

Serenith gasps aloud, one hand flying to her mouth, as he walks off laughing warmly with the children, already answering a dozen eager questions about the Beast Mother.

Serenith just floats there afterward, entirely speechless, eyes going suspiciously wet.

Kamiko drifts up beside her a moment later, watching Lucien’s retreating back with quiet amusement.

“Looks like a little angelic influence was all he needed, after all.” Kamiko whispers to Serenith, finding her own face warm at the sight of Lucien indulging the requests of little fox-kin children.

She walks off after him without waiting for a response.

Serenith wipes at her face, smiling now, proud in a way that sits somewhere deep in her chest, and glances briefly up toward the canopy of leaves overhead.

“Thank you.” she murmurs, to the sky.

Then she follows after them both, bobbing along happily through the warm evening air.

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