The door to the Silver Thorn creaked open as Ethan pushed it inward, releasing a wave of warmth, hearth smoke, and something rich and savory cooking in the back. The main room stretched wide—sturdy floorboards worn smooth, lanterns tucked into timber beams, and a stone hearth glowing against the far wall. It didn’t smell like adventure. It smelled like somewhere safe.

  Amelia stayed close, brushing against Ethan’s leg as they stepped inside. Her ears were high, but her body stayed low—watchful, quiet, measuring the room before she moved.

  Behind the bar stood a woman in a flour-dusted apron and rolled-up sleeves, wiping her hands on a linen rag. She looked up as they entered—took one glance at the Pack—and smiled like it didn’t surprise her at all.

  “You’re early… or late. Depends on how Gwenna phrased it,” Mara said with a faint smirk.

  Ethan hesitated. “You were expecting us?”

  “Message came this morning,” the woman replied. “Didn’t give names. Just said, ‘Tamer with a weird-looking wolf pack. You’ll know them when you see them.’” She tilted her head. “She was right.”

  Before Ethan could respond, a girl burst in from the hallway—a teenager, maybe thirteen, carrying a tray full of stacked bowls. She stopped cold when she saw the Pack.

  “Dad!” she shouted, not even trying to keep her voice down. “Dad, they’re here! Adventurers with bonded beasts!”

  A broad-shouldered man emerged from the kitchen, carrying a toddler like a sack of potatoes over one shoulder. The kid’s face lit up at the sight of the Pack. “Duh!” he yelled, clearly meaning something important.

  A boy and girl followed behind—maybe ten and six—both wide-eyed but unafraid. The boy had a wooden sword tucked into his belt. The girl had ribbons tied around each wrist and a look of pure delight on her face.

  “Name’s Jorrin,” the man said, setting the toddler down with the ease of long practice. “Wife’s Mara. These monsters are Senna, Kip, Tessa, and the little berserker is Tomlin.”

  Tomlin immediately made a beeline for Buster, arms outstretched and wobbling like he had a mission.

  “Now, don’t bite,” Mara called from behind the bar, her voice calm.

  Ethan raised a hand. “They won’t. Promise.”

  Tomlin reached Buster, grabbed a fistful of fur—and bit down.

  Buster yelped, startled and deeply offended.

  “Oh,” Ethan said.

  Mara didn’t look up. “Not him. The baby.”

  Buster flopped onto his side with a long, dramatic sigh.

  “He’s teething,” Mara added. “We’re working on boundaries.”

  The younger girl—Tessa, clearly—gasped dramatically and pointed. “That one’s fancy!” she said, eyes wide as she took in Pixie’s blue-silver ribbon.

  Pixie spun in a tight little circle and struck a pose—head high, tail flicking just so.

  The kids lost it. Tessa clapped. Kip actually grinned. Even Senna looked a little impressed.

  “She knows she’s fancy,” Senna said with a grin.

  “Obviously,” Pixie replied through the bond, trotting closer like she expected a small parade in her honor.

  Jorrin chuckled and looked to Ethan. “They’re a lot, I know. Still figuring out where they get it.”

  Ethan gave a tired smile. “Fair’s fair. These monsters are mine—Moose, Buster, Pixie, Amelia...” He paused, then added dryly, “...and that last little monster is Lyra.”

  Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Ethan didn’t blink. “You’re not denying it.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curved. “I’m adjusting your sleep schedule.”

  Senna stepped in, eyes flicking between Lyra and her tail. “Is that real?”

  Lyra gave her a long look. “It is.”

  “Can I touch it?”

  Through the bond, Ethan felt her hesitation—but Lyra didn’t flinch.

  “You may,” she said softly. “Gently.”

  Senna reached out and brushed her fingers along the fur, wide-eyed and reverent.

  Meanwhile, Tessa had planted herself directly in front of Ethan.

  “That’s Moose, right?” she asked, pointing toward the calmest of the group.

  Ethan shook his head gently. “That’s Buster. Moose is the one behind him.”

  Tessa’s eyes went wide. “Moose? That’s a weird name for a wolf.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Ethan shrugged. “He had it before we got here.”

  She nodded like that made perfect sense. “He didn’t even move when Tomlin bit the other one! He’s the brave one. And that one—” she pointed to Pixie, who was still mid-tail-wiggle, “—is the fast one. And the big brown one with the belly is nice. He got bit and didn’t even growl!”

  “I like Buster,” Kip said. Then looked quickly at Jorrin like maybe he wasn’t supposed to say that.

  Mara just smiled. “They’re welcome. Long as they don’t chew the furniture or eat the biscuits.”

  “Okay. Maybe a few biscuits,” Mara allowed, catching the way two of them had immediately locked eyes on her at the word alone. Buster was already deploying his trademark puppy-dog eyes and a perfectly timed lip quiver.

  Ethan finally sat down near the front bench, back to the wall, letting the weight settle for a moment.

  Tessa plopped onto the floor beside him like she’d lived there her whole life, legs crossed, hands already reaching toward Amelia—who didn’t move, just watched with her ears high as the little girl’s fingers brushed along her side.

  “That one’s Amelia, right?” Tessa asked. “I remember because it sounds like my cousin but Mama says I’m not allowed to talk about my cousin at the table ‘cause of the soup incident. It wasn’t my fault. It was her soup.”

  Ethan blinked.

  Tessa kept petting Amelia’s fur—soft, even strokes—and didn’t slow down. “So my mama used to be an adventurer, for real. Not pretend-like Kip. She had healing magic and ward magic and yelling magic, and my daddy was the shield. That means he didn’t use a sword, just the shield, but sometimes also a hammer when it was ogres. And one time she broke her leg fighting a slime beast and he carried her for eight miles and that’s when they fell in love.”

  Ethan opened his mouth to respond, gave up, and nodded.

  “Then Mama got pregnant and they retired and came here and built the inn from pieces. Not with their hands—like they hired people, I think—but Kip says Daddy helped do the floorboards and maybe the back wall. And they called it the Silver Thorn because Daddy used to be Silver and Mama used to be Thorn and now they’re together like a team name. Which is ALSO the name of the inn.”

  Amelia didn’t move away. Just shifted slightly so Tessa’s hand fell to a better spot.

  “She likes me,” Tessa whispered. “She hasn’t even flinched. Usually animals don’t like me, ‘cause I’m loud, but I’m practicing being quieter for her. I can be quiet. Sometimes.”

  Ethan smiled. “You’re doing fine.”

  “I know,” she said brightly. “And Kip said Pixie looks like a spark with legs and I said no, she looks like a champion with earrings made of wind, and that’s why she has a ribbon, and I’m going to make her a second one. She can wear both. Do you think she likes sparkles?”

  “She loves sparkles,” Ethan said, a little too honestly.

  Tessa grinned. “I knew it. And Lyra has a tail that looks like important people. Like royalty. Senna asked if she could touch it and she let her and she did it gentle and she only looked a little like she wanted to vanish. I wanted to touch it too, but I was a little scared.”

  “She didn’t vanish, maybe you will get to do it later.”

  “Maybe, and Nope she is still there! Didn’t vanish at all.” Tessa agreed. “I was very respectful. You can be respectful and still admire things. That’s what Mama says. But not about cousin Farrah. Farrah has weird rules.”

  Amelia let out a soft exhale through her nose and pressed gently into the contact.

  “She really likes me,” Tessa whispered.

  Ethan nodded. “She really does.”

  Meanwhile, across the room, Mara had come to stand near Lyra—just far enough to talk without interrupting the whirlwind of Tessa’s monologue.

  “Is she really a wolf?” Mara asked quietly, eyes on Amelia.

  Lyra replied. “She is,”

  “She’s young,” Mara added.

  Lyra nodded once. “Still growing. But not wild.”

  Mara didn’t say anything at first. Just watched the way Amelia leaned into the girl’s touch. “Most creatures and people would’ve pulled her back by now. Either of them.”

  “Ethan didn’t,” Lyra said. “And Amelia looks like she is enjoying the attention and didn’t pull back either.”

  “No,” Mara agreed. “They didn’t pull back.”

  They stood there in silence for a moment longer—two women with different scars, watching something neither of them had seen much of before. A child and a wolf, figuring each other out without fear.

  Through the bond, something shifted—Lyra’s thoughts slipping across the link, unguarded.

  He was good with her, without trying to be.

  Most humans would have pulled Amelia away, warned the child off. But he trusts both of them to find their way.

  And under that, something deeper. Something old. The quiet ache of being feared when you were just... learning.

  This is why we stay, she thought. This is what makes him worth following.

  Jorrin reappeared at just the right moment, a ring of bronze keys clinking in one hand. “Figured you’d want the corner room,” he said, holding one out. “Used to be for full adventuring parties back when we were still running contracts. Big enough for six, and beasts, and whatever else you’re hauling.”

  Ethan took the key. It had a weight to it—not just the metal, but the quiet sense of being trusted.

  “That sounds perfect,” he said. Then glanced at Lyra. “Unless you’d rather your own.”

  She tilted her head at him. “Why would I want that?”

  “I just figured... space.”

  Lyra lifted an eyebrow. “We’ve slept in worse, remember? At least this one has a roof.”

  “Probably,” Ethan muttered.

  Jorrin chuckled. “Stairwell’s down the main hall. Brass-framed door, red rune over the latch. That fire ward’s still active, so don’t go testing it unless you like getting shouted at in three languages.”

  Pixie trotted up beside them with bright purpose. Does the room have blankets? I need at least two. One to nest in, one to wear like a cape.

  “You’re not wearing a cape,” Ethan said.

  I am if the room has blankets, Pixie replied, completely unfazed.

  Jorrin slowed his step and looked over. “Wait—who’s wearing a cape?”

  Lyra laughed. Not a smirk. Not a breath through her nose. A real laugh—sharp and clear and sudden, like it had surprised her on the way out.

  Jorrin gave her a curious glance. “What’d I say?”

  “Nothing,” Ethan said, already steering Pixie away from a set of hanging keys she was about to investigate. “We’ll take the room.”

  “Top of the stairs. Big door on the left. You’ll know it,” Jorrin said.

  Pixie pranced ahead, tail held high. I’m picking the first blanket I see. If it has fringe, I’m naming it.

  As Ethan turned toward the stairwell, a glowing red rune carved into the stone near the baseboard caught his eye. Sharp lines, faintly pulsing—subtle but deliberate.

  Jorrin noticed. “That’s the fire ward. Keeps the upper rooms from going up in smoke if someone knocks over a lantern or gets too spell-happy. Don’t mess with it unless you like containment lockdowns.”

  Ethan blinked. “Right. Good to know.”

  The hallway narrowed into an arched frame where a heavy brass-banded door stood, slightly warped from age, but well-maintained. Ethan turned the key and pushed it open.

  The room didn’t disappoint.