Kip was sitting on a crate in the storeroom, trying to teach Tomlin how to juggle with bread rolls. Tomlin was mostly just eating them.

  Buster lay stretched across the floor like an old rug, eyes half-lidded, tail occasionally thumping in irritation.

  "Tomlin’s not very good at this," Kip said.

  Buster muttered, "He dropped three and ate two."

  Kip froze. He looked around. "...Hello?"

  Buster lifted his head a fraction. “What?”

  Kip stared at him, unsure. “Did you just talk?”

  Buster snorted. “You’re imagining it.”

  Kip hesitated, then pointed at the bread. “If you’re not talking, then describe the rolls.”

  "This one’s got a chip," Buster continued, still watching the bread. "This one’s bent. This one looks like it tried to spoon a rock golem."

  Kip stood slowly. "Did you just talk?"

  Buster didn’t even lift his head. “I said he’s terrible. You just agreed with me.”

  Kip pointed at him. “You said it! With words! Like, out loud!”

  “I did not,” Buster said firmly. “I was thinking. Maybe muttering. You’re imagining things.”

  Kip jabbed a finger at him. “You said ‘spoon a rock golem!’ That was a joke!”

  Buster huffed. “It was a grumble! He eats like a duck. And why teach a toddler to juggle, you little goblin?” Buster added under his breath.

  Kip shot back, “YOU’RE doing it again!” He gasped suddenly, eyes widening. “I’M TELLING!”

  And he ran.

  Kip burst into the kitchen where Jorrin was peeling onions. “Dad! The bonded beast talked!”

  Jorrin looked up slowly. “Kip…”

  Kip whined, “He called me a goblin child! And he said Tomlin eats like a duck!”

  Jorrin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been sneaking cider again, haven’t you.”

  Kip protested, “No! He was talking! Whole sentences! Sarcasm and everything!”

  Jorrin sighed. “Kip. He’s a beast.”

  “A bonded beast. And he talks!” Kip insisted.

  “Back to potatoes,” Jorrin said.

  “I’M NOT LYING!” Kip shouted.

  Kip stomped out. “This is a cover-up.”

  Behind him, from the direction of the storeroom, Buster's voice drifted in: “I knew he’d tattle.”

  Jorrin dropped the onion.

  Back in the storeroom, Kip flopped onto a crate and unwrapped a still-warm pastry he'd brought for himself. Buster looked over, ears perking slightly. “Is that apple?” he asked.

  Kip narrowed his eyes. “It’s mine.”

  “Didn’t say it wasn’t. I’m just... appreciating from afar,” Buster said.

  “You want it,” Kip said.

  “It’s an involuntary response to scent,” Buster argued.

  Kip took a bite. “You can have a piece. If I get another ride.”

  Buster sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  Jorrin returned to the main room with his ale just in time to see Kip riding Buster in a slow, lazy circle around the tables.

  “You are not doing this again,” Jorrin said flatly.

  Buster grunted. “He bribed me.”

  “With what?” Jorrin asked.

  “Fruit pastry. The good kind,” Buster answered.

  Kip waved from Buster's back. “We worked out a deal!”

  Jorrin opened his mouth. Closed it. “Should I switch to tea? I’m not crazy,” he whispered.

  From the hallway, a deep voice rumbled, “You may want to sit down. You look pale.”

  Moose padded in, calm and massive. Jorrin stared.

  Kip spun in place. “Moose talks too! It’s amazing!”

  Jorrin turned, walked to the sink, and poured his ale straight down the drain. “I think,” he muttered, “I’m done with day drinking.”

  The front door creaked open. A traveler stepped in, dusty cloak and road-worn boots. He glanced around just as Buster said, “If he puts food in my hood again, I’m biting his socks.”

  The man froze. “...Did that beast just speak?”

  Jorrin didn’t even look up. “Yup.”

  The traveler stared harder. “Like, Common?”

  Jorrin grunted, “Mmhmm.”

  “Am I drunk?” the traveler asked.

  “Not unless you got into my stash,” Jorrin said.

  The traveler backed out slowly. “I’m gonna check the sign. I thought this was an inn, not a wizard’s riddle box.”

  The door closed behind him.

  “I’m not crazy,” Jorrin muttered.

  Ethan came downstairs a few minutes later, looking serene. “I just want to say,” he announced, “whoever designed that toilet? Genius. Absolute masterwork. Pressure, water flow, actual flush acoustics. There’s a lever, Jorrin.”

  Moose added from the hearth, “He was up there narrating the pipes.”

  “Seventeen minutes,” Buster grumbled. “I timed it.”

  “There was a seat,” Ethan said reverently.

  Jorrin blinked. “The toilet.”

  Ethan grinned ear to ear, “You get it.”

  The toddler wailed in the other room.

  “Of course,” Jorrin said, already moving.

  “Need help?” Ethan proffered.

  “No. Just... weird morning,” Jorrin said.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I could check,” Moose offered eagerly with a wag of his tail.

  “Moose, please... I’m barely holding it together,” Jorrin said. He started to get a wild look in his eyes as he sallied forth toward his youngest.

  A minute later he returned with the toddler hiccuping on his shoulder, holding a wooden spoon.

  The toddler sniffled. “Scawy.” Jorrin set him down as he wriggled, trying to jump free like he could stick the landing. Once on the floor, he crawled straight to Moose.

  Moose lowered his head. “There are no monsters here. Just noisy floors and tired feet.”

  The toddler leaned against his leg.

  Tomlin yawned. “Daa...”

  “I used to serve stew,” Jorrin muttered.

  “You still do,” Moose said.

  “With excellent bathroom service,” Ethan added.

  Jorrin stared ahead. “It’s just... a lot of strangeness all at once.”

  Ethan nodded. “Yeah. The plumbing got me too.

  The toddler yawned and settled against Moose’s leg.

  Jorrin cleared his throat. “I’m switching to tea. Permanently.”

  “Wise,” Ethan said.

  Jorrin hadn’t even made it back to the bar when Ethan reappeared from the hallway, carrying a bucket of peeled roots like nothing in the world was strange.

  “By the way,” Ethan said, “whoever carved the soapstone sink in that prep room? Genius. The drainage angle? Perfect.”

  Jorrin blinked. “What?”

  “No splashback. Natural runoff. It’s sloped just right but not aggressive,” Ethan said.

  “It is a very calming design,” Moose said.

  Buster groaned. “This man is out here reviewing sinks like they’re tactical gear.”

  “Plumbing is tactical,” Ethan said.

  Jorrin set his tea down slowly. “Ethan.”

  “Yeah?” Ethan replied.

  “When you say Moose ‘gets it’—do you mean... metaphorically?” Jorrin asked.

  Ethan looked confused. “No?”

  Jorrin rubbed his face with both hands. “I need a break,” he muttered.

  “Totally fair,” Ethan said. “You’ve been wrangling small people and large creatures all morning.”

  “I’m not wrangling anything,” Jorrin said. “I’m just... adjusting.”

  Behind him, the toddler sneezed directly into Moose’s fur. Moose didn’t blink.

  Kip was in the corner sketching a battle banner titled Sir Waggenstein, Beast of Glory.

  Ethan tilted his head. “Quick question—what enchantment does the water heater run on? Flow-linked? Reservoir-fed? Just curious.”

  Jorrin didn’t answer.

  He was already through the swinging door, whispering like a monk entering a sanctuary:

  “Tea and water. Tea and water. Tea and water..."

  Kip then darted off down the hall. He looked to be on a mission.

  Ethan reached over the bar and picked up the mug Jorrin had abandoned. Then he took a sip from the still-warm mug.

  The door slammed open with the energy of a thrown firework.

  Pixie launched into the inn, ribbons tangled in her fur, sparkles trailing in her wake.

  “I AM FINALLY HEARD!!” she shouted with radiant joy.

  A cup clinked softly behind the bar. Somewhere in the kitchen, a kettle began to boil.

  Ethan looked up. “Oh hey, Pixie. Nice cloak. We were just talking about plumbing.”

  Pixie spun in a tight circle on the floor. “THE ECHOES IN THIS PLACE ARE SO CRISP!”

  “Glad you’re in a good mood,” Ethan said.

  Moose glanced over from where he sat beside the toddler. “Indeed. She is in a good mood.”

  Pixie bounded to the center of the room. “MY VOICE HAS REACH!”

  “Yes. It does,” Moose said.

  Ethan nodded approvingly. “You sound very confident today.”

  Pixie grinned. “ALPHA, THEY HEAR ME.”

  Ethan gave her a thumbs-up. “We always do, Pix.”

  Jorrin, still in the kitchen, whispered into the void, “No more. Not today. Not her too.”

  The door creaked open again.

  Kip strolled in like he owned the place, once again perched proudly on Buster’s back. In his arms was a napkin bundle that smelled unmistakably like sausage and jam.

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Kip. Why are you riding Buster again?”

  Kip grinned. “Because I found more food.”

  Ethan nodded like that was a perfectly valid explanation. “Ah. Bribery. Classic.”

  Buster’s ears flicked. “He’s relentless. And well-stocked.”

  “Anything else I should know?” Ethan asked.

  “I gave him two honey rolls and a meat skewer,” Kip said.

  Ethan pointed. “See? That tracks.”

  Buster shifted awkwardly as he tried to lie down, still carrying Kip on his back.

  Tomlin toddled over and leaned against Buster’s side like it was a giant warm cushion.

  Kip didn’t dismount. He just adjusted slightly and handed Tomlin a piece of sticky bread like this was completely normal.

  Ethan sipped his tea like the whole scene made perfect sense.

  From behind the kitchen door, Jorrin’s voice carried faintly as he repeated, “Tea and water. Tea and water. Tea and water…”

  He hadn’t stopped. It had become a mantra.

  The door to the inn opened again.

  Senna stepped in first, holding the door steady for Amelia to walk in behind her.

  Amelia's fur was streaked with dust, and her tail hung low. Her movements were careful. Not slow, but measured—as if each step was being chosen.

  Ethan looked up from his tea, smile fading as he saw her condition. "Emmy? What happened?"

  She looked over at him, ears flattening slightly with fatigue.

  "I'm fine," she said through the bond. Her voice was even, but tired.

  Ethan pulled up her status without hesitation. Her health was nearly full. Just a scrape. Her mana bar, though, was almost gone.

  The door opened wider as Lyra entered next. Mara followed with Tessa just behind her. Tessa held a ribbon in both hands—Amelia's ribbon—folded flat between her palms.

  Pixie hopped down from the table, unusually quiet. Buster lifted his head from where he'd been lounging with Kip, ears twitching forward. Moose crossed the room and stood near Amelia, silent but watchful.

  Ethan set his tea down and crossed the room in three quick strides, kneeling beside Amelia. He ran his fingers gently through her fur, checking for injuries.

  “What happened out there?” he asked, not looking up from examining a small scratch on her shoulder.

  “She saved me,” Tessa said, voice small but steady. “I got lost during the performance. Wandered down an alley. Couldn't find my way back.”

  Mara moved closer, one hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “There was a stack of crates. They started to fall.”

  “Amelia found me,” Tessa continued, her fingers tightening around the ribbon. “She jumped right in front of me. The crates would have crushed me, but she pushed them away.”

  Ethan’s hands paused on Amelia’s coat. “She did?”

  Lyra nodded. “By the time we caught up, she'd already led Tessa halfway back through the market.”

  “She's a hero,” Senna added from the doorway.

  Pixie bounced in place. “Told you she was amazing! Our Emmy is the bravest wolf ever!”

  Jorrin emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug. “Did that beast just—”

  “She is brave,” Ethan said, pride evident in his voice as he gently stroked Amelia's head. “She's been training hard, working on her skills.” He looked at her scratches again. “Though I wish she'd been more careful.”

  “I was careful enough,” Amelia replied through the bond, though her eyes stayed on Tessa.

  Tessa sniffled and stepped closer. “She gave me her ribbon. Said it would help me not be scared.”

  “She said that?” Ethan asked absently, still focused on Amelia's condition.

  “Yes,” Tessa replied. “She told me it helps find your path when you're lost.”

  Kip slid off Buster. “Yeah, Buster’s been talking to me too. So, Amelia said that to you?”

  “She did,” Tessa said firmly. “I heard her. Clear as anything.”

  Jorrin’s mug stopped halfway to his lips as he finally realized it wasn’t just him.

  He frowned, looked down, and squinted into the cup.

  “Who’s been drinking my tea?”

  He sniffed it, took a cautious sip, then sighed.

  “Maybe I’ll just switch to just water.”

  “We all heard her,” Mara said slowly, looking around the room. “In the market. When she found Tessa.”

  Moose nodded. “The bond grows stronger every day.”

  Buster yawned from his spot on the floor. “It’s the intelligence boost. Told you we’d be talking soon enough. I knew something was up when Kip could hear me. I checked my status—Translation (Passive) is listed under skills now. If you focus on it, it tells you what it does.”

  Ethan stared at him. Then blinked once and pulled open his own interface.

  The line appeared just below the rest of the Pack Bond abilities:

  [Translation] – Passive Skill

  You can now be understood by individuals within conversational range. The effect is two-ways unless those individuals possess their own Translation ability that supersedes your own. This skill enables both spoken and written language comprehension. Voice projection is tied to intent. This skill scales with intelligence and clarity.

  Ethan read it. Then read it again. “That... explains a lot. Would’ve been good to know this earlier.”

  No one laughed, but no one looked alarmed either. The Pack had crossed another threshold without warning, and somehow, it felt almost inevitable. In this strange new world, why wouldn't they eventually be heard?

  Ethan ran a hand through his hair, still processing. "So everyone's just... okay with talking dogs?"

  Jorrin took a long, deliberate sip from his mug. "After what I've seen this morning? It's just another Tidesday around here."

  “Another... Tide...” Ethan said, then trailed off, brow furrowing.

  A short beat passed.

  Day of the week, Lyra offered through the bond.

  “Right. Tidesday,” Ethan said, nodding like it made perfect sense.