A few days later, on the evening of the first snowfall, the Pangeans roll into town.

That morning I’m making bread to accompany Wolf’s classic meat soup while Jace and Seir argue in the living room.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” Jace asks.

Seir’s sigh can probably be heard all the way in the forest. “I’ve made this elixir about a dozen times. Of course, I’m sure of the quantity.”

“It just seems like so little.” A pause. “How long is this going to take again?”

“A couple of days till the elixir matures.”

“And you’re sure there’s no way to speed it up?”

This time, Seir rolls his neck and pins me with a sore look. I shake my head commiseratively while hiding my grin.

“No, there is not," Seir finally answers.

“Alright. But once it matures and I add it to her normal healing potion and have her drink it, she’ll get better right? You’re sure?”

“For the tenth time, yes I’m sure.”

Jace’s shoulders finally relax and the worry leaves his face. He assumes more of that boyish look he frequently has.

“Thank you,” he says.

Seer seems uncomfortable with the boy’s show of gratitude. “It’s fine. Adria provided the feather, I’m just making the medicine.”

“Yes but without you, the medicine won’t be made and I know how much you’re risking to help us.”

“It's fine." Seir ducks his head focusing on grinding the herbs in a mortar. “Simply keeping this a secret should be thanks enough."

But Jace isn't done. "But you must be very brilliant, being able to make a Black Shrewk elixir from such affordable ingredients. Everyone I talked said it would cost at least two gold coin to get all the ingredients together. How come you haven't shared this knowledge with the other healers who charge exorbitant prices? I bet you would be hailed as one of the geniuses of our generation–"

Seir interrupts him with another sigh. “I think I almost prefer when you were doubting my abilities.”

The door opens, halting whatever response Jace was about to make and Wolf walks in. He ignores both the males in the living area and strides right to me, handing me a balled-up woolen material.

It's only after I take it and unravel it that I discover that it's a coat.

A long beautiful coat made of the softest finest animal skin imaginable. It also looks like it has several layers of soft wool knitted in the inner lining, for extra warmth, while still managing to be light.

I gape at it. “Where did you get this?”

“Do you like it?” he asks.

Like it? How could one not like something so beautiful? “That’s not the point. This looks very costly.” I run my hand through the fine fabric again, unable to help myself. “You didn’t steal it, did you?’

He narrows his eyebrow in offense and says. “No.”

“Then how did you get it?”

“I traded it.”

“Traded it for what?”

“Nothing important.” He shrugs and glances away like he always does when he’s tired of my questions. His eyes instead fall on the two boys who are looking at us in rapt attention. One look from Wolf though and they quickly shift their focus back onto the potion pretending like they weren't listening to us after all.

“Wolf.” I grab his hand and that has his head snapping back to me. His eyes shoot down to where our hands are joined then back up to mine again. Heat blazes in his gaze and it wraps me up in threads of emotion that have my heart pounding.

But I refuse to get distracted. The last time he told me he traded something it was with his body. And some part of me fears what he did to get me this fine of a coat. “You didn’t…did you?”

He catches my meaning immediately and his entire face tightens. His body stiffens too and I hate that I have to ask but I need to know.

“No,” he says and I can tell I just insulted him,

“I’m sorry Wolf,” I say. “I didn’t mean to… be so accusatory. I just...I don't want you doing that for me.”

He nods in a clipped way and tries to turn away but I don't let him go. Instead, I let my hand travel to his cheek, caressing it softly.

His body reacts in surprise again, and he glances back at me with a suddenly low-lidded gaze.

“One of my greatest fears,” I tell him. “Is that you'll do something like that for me. Don’t. Okay? You’re too...precious for that.”

He stares at me, and though his expression doesn't change his chest swells up with emotion. I can see it shifting in his eyes darkening the bright yellow into a warmer amber color. And then finally he leans his head into my touch and brings his hand up to touch my cheek too.

He steps closer to me and my heart quickens in anticipation. His lips are right there and it's so tempting for me to lean up and kiss him. So tempting that I don't know if I can resist.

I feel my own body move without my own volition, driving to fulfill a hunger that tears through me. It urges me to ignore all caution and finally throw my fate to the wind.

And Wolf growls in response, closing the gap.

“Erm...” A cough reminds us that we’re not alone.

I jerk back and glance aside to find Seir and Jace staring at us, both red-faced. Seir suddenly tears his gaze away, and slings his bag over his shoulder, pushing up his glasses. "I think I’m done here for today. You just need to ensure that the potion doesn’t freeze overnight because that could reduce the potency of the feathers. And stir it every three hours.” He avoids my eyes as he points at the door awkwardly. “So if that’s all I’ll just be going. The king asked for a meeting with me today and I must make haste.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“The king is meeting with you?” I ask. "What about?”

A one-shouldered shrug. “I believe it has to do with the envoy from Pangea. They’re arriving this evening and he seems to want me to be at their service during their visit.”

Ah. Just like I predicted. “What about the Farrow witch? Won’t they be more comfortable with her?” After all, Farrows are native to Pangea.

“It seems not,” he says. “In any case, I believe she decided not to attend to them. It's hard for even the king to convince that woman to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Or maybe the King doesn't want her to.

“I see,” I say and our eyes meet for a brief but poignant moment. We're both thinking about the prophecy I told him.

"Will I be seeing you later?" I ask.

"Tomorrow at the library,” he says and I nod. Then he leaves.

Jace stands awkwardly staring at me and Wolf for a few more seconds, then loudly announces. “Wait, Seir. I’ll escort you."

He scurries out of there as fast as his feet can move, leaving Wolf and me alone.

Wolf's hand is still on my face. Throughout my conversation with Seir, and even during Jace's departure, I could feel his gaze on me. It doesn't shift even when I attempt to back away from him.

“Wolf, I need to–“

“Why do you do this?” His voice is low and husky as he steps close. "You touch me, rouse me, and then push me away. Is this a game to you?”

“No,” I assure him blushing heatedly. "No, it’s not.”

“I don’t mind if it is."

His voice drops to an even sultrier register as his lips skim my ear. Goosebumps break out over my skin, and the coat drops to the floor, my fingers clenching in the air as Wolf licks the corner of my ear.

He traces it with his tongue down to my ear lobe and then at the base of my neck where my pulse is pumping like crazy. I bite my lip so as not to release a sound.

“You want me,” he asks. “Do you not?”

“I.." I can't think. I want him so much it was hard to breathe as everything inside me squeezes tight with need. I brace myself against the counter. “Yes but –"

“Then take me.”

“I can’t,” I force the words out and place my hands on his face, dislodging my neck from his lips and forcing back the regret. I stare into his eyes. “We can’t. We’re not made for each other.”

He frowns. “Sometimes you say things that don’t make sense. What does that even mean?”

"It means that We’re….” I sigh “We don't fit together well. We share a trauma but that's it and even that's not a good thing. We have different backgrounds, different capabilities..."

“You fear I’ll hurt you.”

“No.” I shake my head with a laugh. “But I’m terrified I’ll hurt you.”

A rough sound leaves his mouth

“Did you just snort?” I’m instantly insulted.

“No." He smirks. "But you could never hurt me.”

"I don’t mean physically you dolt.” I push against his chest slightly to give me some space to think. “But I don’t know what I feel for you yet. I haven’t sorted it out in my head. I don’t know if it’s because you’re the first person to ever make me feel safe, or if it’s because I feel like the end of the world is coming and maybe fate is throwing us together to achieve a higher purpose than what we are. I don't know why I want you Wolf. I do know one thing for sure. You’re not for me and I’m not for you.”

“Ah,” he says as understanding dawns. “You already foresaw your future mate."

“No,” I say. But I saw yours. Once again, I don’t admit it. I don't know how him knowing that he will fall in love with Savannah affects this timeline but I don't want to risk it.

He grins. “Good. Because I would have found him and eaten him."

"That's not funny, Wolf," I tell him and suddenly we hear the great bell ringing from the Village Square echoing across the grasslands.

It rings once, twice, three times in warning.

Wolf's expression grows grim.

They’re here.

----------------------------------------

The carriages that the Pangeans arrive in are like nothing most in the North have ever seen. It's lined with gold and made in metal, all things carved efficiently into a box to make greater space, rather than the stylistic pumpkin shape that we see with most carriages. And most strangely of all, it's not pulled by horses.

It seems to move all on its own.

Magic.

The North is magic-poor. We have very few users in our midst hence why the King is probably keeping the Farrow witch captive.

But Pangea is said to be rife with magic users, so much so that healers are a dime a dozen, and people instead experiment with magic to create things like this.

Wolf and I watch from the edges of the crowd, awed as five of the strange carriages loaded with items and people roll in, followed by a few more horse-drawn carriages carrying grain.

Finally, the carriages stop on the side of the castle walls that are lined by at least two dozen Elite guards. The King himself stands across the courtyard with Caster beside him, wearing an unpleasant expression.

The doors of the first carriage open and well-armored Knights in red step out. Their armor are interesting, with a sheen that identifies them as metallic, but malleable enough to mold tightly to their frame. At one side each Knight has a retractable sword, that can also expand into the shape of a shielf, and at the other, a hand cannon.

They move to open the doors of the second carriage and…I’m surprised at what I find.

A grown man comes out first, so tall that he towers over most of the people in the center. He's slender, his red hair slightly too long at the back, and his green eyes glittering with an open curiosity and good humor. His skin sports a healthy tan tone and is complemented well by his red coat, underneath which he's not wearing any armor, but a nice cream chemise made of thick material.

Everything about him gives off wealth and good breeding as he regards the people standing with a simple nod.

And then he reaches out his hand near the door of the carriage in expectation.

Out hops a girl.

She’s about my age and bears a resemblance to the man with their sparkly green eyes. But she’s small where he is tall, with brown hair instead of his red, and rather than his sedateness, her eyes seem to be bouncing everywhere at once as if trying to take everything in.

Her hair falls in perfect curls down her back and her eyes also shine with health. Unlike the Farrow witch, these Southerners appear far more expressive and colorful.

The man takes her hand and more guards exit the carriage behind them, surrounding the two. Then they start towards the King, with the girl's head twisting to look around.

“They have ancient swords papa,” she whispers to him. “Like in the history books. Isn’t that cool?”

“Hush,” he says but there's affection in his voice. He doesn't seem particularly threatening, but with Pangeans, looks are always deceiving. Nevertheless, he moves cautiously. Although his eyes are also inquisitive, he doesn't try to take everything in like his daughter.

“The castle is a sixty-five circumference and the yard is five acres, with eighty-five circumference towers." The girl is saying. "They've wasted space. They should have made a smaller castle and more towers.”

“Yes, but you don’t need to tell them that,” he says. "Now hush. “

Finally, they stop in front of the king.

The man bows first. “Your Highness. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The King nods but doesn’t bow back. The man straightens, non-plussed.

“I’m Alaric Raven, second son of the Supreme Lord of The Raven Clan. This is my daughter, Pearl.”

“Hello." She executes a curtsy though one less graceful than her father. She nearly falls over while doing it. “I’m Pearl.”

His majesty nods again. “You’ve traveled a long way.”

“Yes, and as you can see, we've come bearing gifts." He gestures to the carriages behind him.

The third carriage brings out a few more knights and two people, one of them is white-haired, bearing a resemblance to the Farrow witch. She turns her nose up as she walks and doesn't bow when she approaches the King.

They also don't introduce themselves.

King Drogo clearly notices their disrespect, but he says nothing.

After the envoy goes inside, I eye the carriage full of grain and fruits. I wasn't here when the Pangeans arrived last time, having gone on a trip with Caster, but I wonder if they brought this much stuff with them before. It looks to be enough to feed a plethora of families through the famine.

But what did they expect to trade with? They already hold the upper hand in the war and if there is a conflict they will likely win. So why are they trying so hard to make peace?

Why would prominent Southerners risk themselves by coming here?

That is one thing I have to figure out.

But as I try to leave with the rest of the procession, a soldier stops me. When I turn to face him he says, “The King calls for you.”