Lyre and Sand: "'Build the empire with wheat, not sand.' It's said that I dance amidst the flames, playing the lyre and singing."

After meeting with Qana yesterday, we practiced with longswords until late into the night, which might have exhausted me too much. It wasn't until I heard a distinct sound that I woke up. Opening my eyes, I saw the sword master threading his belt through the loops of his pants.

I wanted to look away because it felt really weird, but I couldn't. The sight was too overwhelming--it was a work of art.

Qana's short, pure white summer fur didn't cover the sculpted, knotted muscles of his back, paired with huge, bulging biceps and deltoids, making him look like a magnificent marble statue.

I heard the clink of metal as Qana buckled his belt, then he turned to face me, seemingly searching for something on the bed.

For the love of Rationalism, turn your head away! Or at least close your mouth and lift your jaw!

I saw my conscience standing nearby, tugging at my ear and yelling admonishments. But I also noticed he kept glancing at Qana--humph, hypocrite. Wipe your own drool first.

But I could understand the struggle--his abs were so defined they showed through his fur, and his massive, rugged pectorals...

I finally regained some rationality and snapped my head away. Staring any longer might have made the urban legend about nosebleeds from excitement a reality.

Why does this keep happening? It's so weird! Do other wolves with the same "preference" have this trouble, or am I an outlier even among the minority? Maybe I could ask Aether--can I ask Aether? I could ask Aether, right?

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I helplessly scrubbed my face and snout fur with my hands, trying to wake up or something.

Great, first Piqsirpoq--my half-brother--and now Qana. Though the temperamental, unsmiling sword master hadn't shown any special interest, I was certain he paid far more attention to me than to other wolves. Even more than what a direct master-apprentice relationship warranted.

Not just in the past year of solo sword training; even before that, I had sensed it. During dusk training sessions, he always tried to teach me more and was much stricter with me than with others. Since last year, I thought my doubts had been answered--it was just the talent he saw in me and our shared abilities as psychics, that nurturing feeling for a junior.

But later, I overheard some young wolves gossiping in the cafeteria, mentioning that Master Polota confirmed Qana only agreed to share sword training duties a few years ago, and his time spent on it far exceeded the usual assignment. Other sword masters joked it was some kind of guilt for slacking off too long. I later verified that Qana started participating in dusk training exactly when I was nine--the year I began learning how to hold a sword.

All these things together ruled out mere coincidence. For some reason unknown to me, Qana cared deeply about me.

Yesterday, I didn't think much about learning of Qana and Willow's relationship, but this discovery added a new possible explanation to my list--Qana saw in me the child he never had the chance to have.

I buried my face in my hands, wondering if voicing this thought would make me vanish from sheer embarrassment.

But I think I knew, I always...

"Don't waste time if you're awake. Breakfast starts in ten minutes." The sword master interrupted my thoughts. I looked up at him, and Qana was fastening his broadsword to his belt, then grabbed the cloak from the wall. "I'll give you five minutes." He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I immediately threw the blanket aside, sprang out of bed, and rushed into the bathroom. I grabbed a toothbrush with one hand and turned on the faucet with the other, guiding enough water to start washing up.

By vibrating the water at high frequencies to create cavitation, dirt detached from my fur--though I still didn't dare use it on my teeth, fearing it might shatter them. Now I was skilled enough to separate the dirty water into a stream and direct it away, letting clean water continue to flow over me. And my clothes no longer retained any liquid, so I didn't even need to undress, cleaning my outfit simultaneously, elevating the efficiency of my hygiene to the peak.

It was almost like using supercritical fluid, but simpler and less labor-intensive. Maybe not everything needed to be done in a complex, elaborate way, no matter how cool it seemed--though that didn't mean I'd stop trying to create supercritical water--for... science?

When I finished dressing and stood before Qana, he raised an eyebrow and gave me an amused look.

"Uh... what's wrong?" I asked, shifting my weight to the other foot, feeling uneasy under the sword master's imposing gaze.

Qana lifted his hand and poked my chest twice. When I looked down, I saw the care label sticking out of my shirt collar.

Suppressing the embarrassed heat creeping up my cheeks, I turned my short-sleeved crewneck shirt inside out, corrected it, and followed the sword master out of the room.