The first thing Baomont felt was pain.


    Specifically, the dull throb radiating from his jaw — a persistent, pulsing reminder that someone’s fist had become very well-acquainted with his face the night before.


    The second thing he felt was warmth. Not fire, but something soft pressed gently against his side.


    When he finally cracked one eye open, blurry sunlight filtered in through a small window. He was in a simple room, tucked into a wooden bed with a wool blanket over him. The soft murmur of voices and the creak of floorboards below told him he was still in the tavern.


    Above him, a familiar pair of golden eyes peered down.


    Shadow.


    She was sitting on the edge of the bed, a wooden bowl of steaming porridge in her hands. Her ears flicked at his stirring.


    “You’re awake,” she said softly. “That’s good.”


    Baomont groaned, reaching up to rub his jaw. “Did I win?”


    She tilted her head. “You didn’t even throw a punch.”


    “Sounds like me,” he muttered, then blinked. “Wait, this isn’t the floor. How’d I get here?”


    “Mira and I dragged you up the stairs,” Shadow replied, handing him the bowl. “Mostly Mira. She’s stronger than she looks.”


    He took the bowl with a grateful nod and blew on the surface. It smelled sweet — oats and honey. Comfort food.


    “Thanks,” he said. “For the rescue. And the porridge.”


    She looked away, brushing her bangs aside. “You’d have done the same for me.”


    They sat in silence for a moment as he ate. The porridge was warm, thick, and healing in ways that went beyond flavor.


    Eventually, he spoke again.


    “Last night was… wild.”


    Shadow nodded slowly. “I didn’t know humans could be that noisy. Or happy.”


    “Or drunk,” he added.


    She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was nice. Being part of something. Even just for a little while.”


    He looked at her. Her posture was relaxed, but her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers twitching slightly. Even now, in the quiet, she was braced for something to go wrong.


    “You were amazing, by the way,” he said. “Out there. Dancing, smiling… You looked free.”


    Shadow’s cheeks flushed, and she lowered her head.


    “I’m not used to being around people like that,” she admitted. “They seemed nice. But it’s hard to forget what most people are like when they see someone like me.”


    Baomont nodded slowly, setting the empty bowl aside.


    “Well… they didn’t see a beastkin last night,” he said. “They saw you. And they liked you.”


    She didn’t answer, but her tail flicked lightly — thoughtful but uncertain.


    A sudden commotion broke the calm.


    Voices — loud and sharp — echoed from the street below. Shouts, footsteps, the clatter of a wagon wheel being kicked or dropped.


    Baomont and Shadow both looked toward the window.


    Shadow was already halfway to it, moving with quiet speed. Baomont followed, leaning over her shoulder to peer through the small, smudged glass pane.


    Down in the town square, a group of men stood in a loose formation. Five of them, dressed in dusty traveling cloaks and thick boots. Their clothes were stiff, patterned with red trim and silver clasps — unfamiliar, but formal. Their gear looked less like that of travelers and more like enforcers.


    Each man held a parchment in hand. One unrolled his and turned it toward a nearby vendor. The old man leaned forward, squinting. Shook his head. The strangers moved on, approaching another stall.


    Baomont squinted. “What are they holding?”


    “I can’t see from here,” Shadow said, her voice tight.


    But her posture had gone rigid. Her ears pressed back, and her tail curled tightly around one leg.


    Baomont glanced at her. “You okay?”


    Her breath hitched.


    “I know that uniform,” she whispered. “They’re from the east. Slavers.”


    Baomont’s blood chilled.


    She took a step back from the window, eyes wide with dread. “If they’re here… They might be looking for me.”


    Before Baomont could respond, the door burst open with a bang.


    He jumped in surprise, but Shadow reacted instantly — dropping low, hands splayed and fingers curled like claws, her posture taut and ready to strike.


    Mira stood in the doorway, breathless and visibly shaken.


    “They have a picture of her,” she said, voice urgent. “They’re showing it to everyone. Asking questions. They’re definitely looking for Shadow.”


    Shadow took a shaky step back from the door, her hands still curled like claws, breath short and rapid.


    “They found me…” she whispered.


    “No time,” Mira said quickly. “They’re heading this way — I ran ahead as soon as I saw your picture. We have to go. Now.”


    Baomont snapped into motion, grabbing his gear. He turned to Shadow. “Get your stuff, we’re leaving!”


    She nodded, grabbing her cloak and a small bundle of food and gear they had set aside near the bed.


    The heavy clatter of boots echoed faintly from the floor below.


    Mira glanced behind her. “They’re asking the tavernkeep if she’s seen anyone ‘unusual.’ That’s not going to buy us long.”


    “Back door?” Baomont asked.


    “This way,” Mira said, already moving. She led them quickly down the hall, away from the main stairs.


    They passed a pair of startled maids near the linen closet. Shadow stayed low, her hood pulled tight, ears pressed flat. Baomont walked close behind, ready to throw his body in front of anything that moved too fast.


    Mira threw open a side door and gestured them through a narrow hallway that reeked of bread and damp stone. At the end was a crooked wooden door with a rusted latch.


    She pushed it open, revealing a narrow alley behind the tavern.


    “Go!”


    They slipped out into the chill of late morning. Sunlight streamed over the rooftops, and the sound of town life continued — oblivious to the tension threading through their escape.


    They crept along the alley wall, ducking behind stacked crates and a loose-hinged fence gate.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Then came the shout.


    “There! That’s her!”


    Baomont didn’t wait.


    “Run!”


    They ran.


    Baomont’s boots pounded the dirt. Mira kept pace surprisingly well, her cloak fluttering behind her. Shadow shifted mid-stride — fur overtaking flesh in a flash of light — and bolted ahead on four paws, ears sharp and focused.


    Behind them, the slavers gave chase. Three, maybe four — boots thundered over stone and shouted commands rang out. They were gaining ground.


    They cleared the last line of buildings and hit the treeline, darting into the forest’s shade. Branches whipped past. Roots threatened to trip every step. Shadow weaved through the underbrush effortlessly. Baomont? Not so much.


    “I am... not built... for sprinting!” he gasped.


    “Then slow them down!” Mira shouted.


    “Right!”


    Baomont skidded to a halt, turned, and dropped to one knee.


    He pressed both palms into the dirt.


    Matter Manipulation: Tangle Root — Spread and Trap!


    The ground rippled. Vines and roots burst up from the soil in thick, twisting coils. The first slaver hit them head-on and went down hard, legs tangled mid-stride. The second tripped over the first. The third saw it too late.


    They yelled. Cursed. One even shouted for fire — but they were stuck. For now.


    Baomont turned and ran.


    Up ahead, the terrain sloped. Steeper. Rockier. The trees thinned — too much light, too little cover.


    “More are coming!” Shadow barked back in her humanoid voice, having shifted again just long enough to speak. “Two flanking from the left!”


    Mira spun, skidding to a halt.


    “I’ve got this.”


    She planted her feet, raised her staff, and closed her eyes. The crystal at its tip pulsed with light.


    “Arcane Skill: Magic Missile!”


    Three shimmering bolts of light erupted from her staff and streaked through the air, howling like compressed wind. Each missile found its mark with satisfying force — knocking the slavers back into trees or flat onto their backs.


    Baomont slowed just enough to gape.


    “Okay! That’s cheating!”


    Mira grinned, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. “Basic magic! I only nearly passed out once practicing it!”


    The slavers didn’t follow after that. Or if they did, they were slower. Cautious.


    The three of them kept running until the trees began to thin… and suddenly, the forest gave way to open sky.


    They stumbled into a cliffside clearing, grass and stone underfoot, wind sweeping through the open air.


    Ahead, the land dropped sharply off the edge — a sheer cliff, overlooking a vast expanse of green, stretching out toward distant hills.


    “We can’t go further,” Baomont said between breaths. “This is it.”


    They had run out of road.


    But they were alive.


    Baomont stood at the cliff’s edge, panting, hands on his knees. Wind tugged at his cloak and tousled his hair as he stared out at the open sky.


    The forest stretched far behind them. The land ahead dropped into a wide, breathtaking valley. Green hills rolled into the distance, broken only by scattered woods and the faint shimmer of water reflecting sunlight.


    Shadow stood beside him in wolf form, her breathing shallow but steady. Mira leaned against a nearby tree, clutching her staff with shaking hands.


    “We made it,” she said quietly.


    “Barely,” Baomont muttered.


    He looked around the clearing — open space, solid ground, trees that hadn’t yet been twisted by his magic.


    “We’ll rest here for the night,” he said. “We need shelter.”


    Shadow tilted her head. “You sure you’re not going to pass out again mid-spell?”


    “No promises,” Baomont said. “But this time… I think I’ve got it.”


    He walked toward the treeline, stopping before three thick trees standing in a loose formation.


    “Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s see what level nine can do.”


    He placed both hands on the first trunk. The others followed, watching in silence.


    Matter Manipulation: Structure Form – Wooden Cabin. Full Conversion. Moisture Extraction. Wall Shape. Beam Lock. Let’s go.


    A soft pulse of golden light radiated from his palms. The glow traveled through the trunk and then burst outward, rippling into the neighboring trees. Bark peeled and twisted. Branches split and reshaped. The air shimmered with steam as water was pulled free and evaporated instantly.


    Wood bent and folded as if obeying unseen hands — forming flat walls, corner joints, thick beams, even a pitched roof with minimal gaps. It wasn’t perfect, even if it wasn’t pretty.


    But it was a cabin.


    A real, standing, weather-resistant structure.


    Baomont wobbled slightly, hands on his knees again.


    “Okay…” he gasped. “Definitely… level nine.”


    Shadow stepped forward, blinking in amazement. Mira actually clapped.


    “This is amazing!” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone shape this much with raw skill before!”


    “I’m getting better,” Baomont said, forcing himself upright. “And I used to be proud of sandcastles.”


    Night fell gently over the clearing.


    The cabin’s fire crackled in a simple stone-lined pit outside the door, casting warm flickers across the rough-hewn walls. Inside, bedrolls had been spread, cloaks hung to dry, and silence had mostly taken hold — the kind of silence that settled between people who’d run too far, fought too hard, and finally had time to breathe.


    Shadow sat beside the fire, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her tail curled tight at her side, twitching occasionally.


    Baomont sat across from her, leaning back on his elbows. Mira was beside him, half-asleep but still listening.


    For a while, no one said anything.


    Then Shadow spoke.


    “I didn’t think I’d ever see a place like this. Quiet. Safe. Even for a night.”


    Baomont looked over at her, but didn’t speak. He waited.


    “I ran away,” she said. “From a nobleman in the East. He wasn’t just a slaver — he used us. Beastkin. For experiments. Magical ones.”


    Mira sat up straighter.


    “He believed we were… adaptable. That our mana responded differently. He tested spells on us. Pushed our bodies until we broke. Some of us didn’t make it.”


    Her voice stayed soft, even as her hands tightened around her arms.


    “I pretended to be broken. Weak. I waited. And then… one night, I escaped.”


    She looked up, meeting Baomont’s eyes.


    “I never expected to get far. And even when I did, I thought… maybe it was better to just keep running. Alone.”


    Baomont leaned forward.


    “You’re not alone anymore.”


    “You should be,” she said. “I’m putting you in danger. As long as I’m with you, they’ll come after us. You should go your own way.”


    “No.”


    The word came fast. Firm.


    Shadow blinked.


    Baomont sat forward fully now, his hands resting on his knees.


    “You were the first person I met in this world. The first person who didn’t try to sell me something or kill me or run away from me. You stayed with me. You watched over me. You saved me.”


    He exhaled slowly.


    “You’re the first friend I’ve had in… I don’t even know how long. Maybe longer than I want to admit. So no. I’m not letting you go. You’re not a burden. You’re home.”


    Shadow’s lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes shimmered faintly.


    Then Mira spoke.


    “If you go off on your own, they will find you. You don’t have to protect us by leaving. Let us help you.”


    Baomont nodded. “We’ll stay hidden. This spot is isolated. No roads. No signs.”


    “I’ll go back to town,” Mira offered. “I can bring food. Supplies. Listen for news. If anyone starts sniffing around, I’ll warn you.”


    Shadow looked between them, overwhelmed, then slowly smiled. Just a little.


    “…Okay,” she whispered.


    The fire had burned low. Shadows stretched long along the edge of the clearing as the stars blinked to life, scattered like secrets across the sky.


    They took turns keeping watch.


    Baomont took first, seated near the fire with a sharpened stick in his hands and the steady rise and fall of sleeping breaths behind him. Shadow curled near the cabin’s door in her wolf form, tail tucked and finally at peace. Mira slept inside, cloak pulled around her, her staff resting beside her pack.


    When the horizon began to pale with early light, Mira emerged from the cabin, stretching with a yawn and rubbing her eyes.


    “Your turn already?” Baomont asked.


    She gave him a sleepy nod and took a seat next to him, warming her hands by the embers.


    For a moment, neither said anything.


    Then, she tilted her head.


    “Last night,” she said quietly. “You said something. About… coming to this world.”


    Baomont tensed slightly but didn’t turn to look at her.


    “I caught it,” Mira continued. “I don’t think Shadow did. But… what did you mean?”


    He was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled through his nose and leaned back to look at the sky.


    “One day,” he said. “When the time is right — I’ll tell you. Both of you.”


    Mira studied him for a moment, then nodded.


    “No rush. But I’ll be waiting.”


    Baomont smiled faintly. “Yeah. I know.”


    The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the trees in gold.


    Mira stood, brushing off her cloak.


    “I should get going. I’ll head back to town, gather what I can. See what people are saying. I’ll be back in a few days — hopefully with good news.”


    Shadow, now awake and back in her humanoid form, stepped out of the cabin. She and Mira exchanged a brief, quiet smile.


    “Stay safe,” Mira said. “Both of you.”


    “You too,” Baomont replied.


    She disappeared down the path, her staff tapping lightly against the ground as she went.


    Baomont and Shadow stood together in the growing light, watching the trees sway in the morning breeze.


    There was danger ahead. But for now, they had a home.


    And each other.