One moment everyone was staring at Swanly like she was only a strange snow fox female with three black panther cubs and one dangerous mate. The next moment, females were dragging their cubs back, males were baring their teeth, and the guards at the gate lifted their bone spears like Swanly had suddenly grown a second head and started coughing black blood.

A boar beastman near the front of the line panicked so badly he tripped over his own thick feet and fell face-first into the mud.

Nobody laughed.

That was how Swanly knew this was serious.

Even she could smell it.

Fear.

Sweat.

Wet fur.

Blood under old leaf bandages.

The sharp, bitter scent of panic poured from the crowd and hit her new beastwoman nose so hard that her ears pressed flat before she could stop them. She hated that. She hated that her own body was reacting before her brain finished understanding what was happening.

She was scared.

Of course she was scared.

This white snake male had said one sentence and made an entire tribe shake.

Swanly looked at Soren again, and her stomach tightened.

He was not angry. That was the worst part. He did not shout. He did not growl. He did not even look excited by the panic around him.

He just stood there, cold and beautiful, with those silver eyes on her like he had already reached a decision.

A very bad decision.

Kael stepped in front of her.

His back blocked her from Soren at once, and Swanly felt something strange twist in her chest. He did not think. He did not hesitate. He simply moved between her and danger like that was where his body belonged.

His shoulders were tense. His claws slid out. His black tail dropped low behind him, stiff with anger.

Kael knew this male was not simple.

He had heard about Soren while leading Swanly and the cubs here. Riverbone had not always belonged to a white snake. Only a few moons ago, this tribe had elders, guards, and loud-mouthed leaders who argued over every scrap of meat and every infected body brought near the river. Then the infected became worse. The old leaders failed. People started hiding bites. Families started lying. Males started dragging sick mates inside at night because they could not bear to leave them outside.

Then Soren came.

Or maybe he had always been here, waiting.

No one agreed on that part.

What everyone agreed on was this: one night, Riverbone changed rulers.

The elders who fought him died.

The guards who bent their heads lived.

After that, Riverbone became cruel, but it did not fall.

That was the only reason Kael came here.

It was the nearest place with walls. It was the only place people said still had order. It was the only place where his cubs might sleep without infected claws scratching at the cave mouth.

But now Soren was looking at Swanly.

At his female.

At the mother of his cubs.

Kael’s anger grew so sharp it almost drowned his fear.

He knew he could die here. He knew Soren was not a male he could easily tear apart in the middle of his own tribe. He knew the guards would move the moment he attacked.

But Swanly was behind him.

The cubs were behind him.

So his body chose before his mind did.

If Soren wanted them, he would have to step over him first.

The cubs felt Kael’s anger, and because they were still tiny and stupid with love, they suddenly became brave too.

The eldest cub wobbled forward and stood beside Kael’s foot.

His little paws sank into the damp mud.

His whole body was trembling.

But his chest puffed out like he was not smaller than one of Soren’s hands.

"No touch Mama!" he shouted.

Swanly’s eyes widened.

Oh no.

The second cub peeked from behind Swanly’s fluffy white tail. His voice was soft, but his face looked very serious. "Papa strong."

The smallest cub was shaking in Swanly’s arms. His eyes were wet, his ears were flat, and his tiny heart was clearly having a very hard day.

So naturally, he licked Swanly’s chin.

Then he lifted his head and yelled, "Papa bite bad snake!"

Swanly almost choked.

"Do not threaten the terrifying snake ruler," she whispered quickly. "That is not a good family activity."

The cubs did not hear her.

Or they heard her and decided their tiny war speech was more important.

The eldest took another step forward and shouted, "Papa tear!"

The second nodded quickly. "Papa claws."

The smallest, feeling encouraged by his brothers, turned in Swanly’s arms and pointed one little paw at Soren.

"Mama magic too! Mama pow pow! Bad males gone!"

Swanly’s soul left her body, looked around Riverbone, and tried to walk into the river.

She slapped her hand gently over his mouth.

"No. No pow pow. No Mama magic. No announcing secret murder options in public."

The smallest blinked up at her, very offended that she was interrupting his brave speech.

The crowd stared harder.

A skinny goat beastwoman clutched her child and whispered, "Magic?"

A thick-armed bear beastman stepped back.

The boar beastman in the mud tried to crawl away without standing up.

Swanly wanted to bury herself under the nearest root.

But then she saw Soren’s face.

He had not reacted to the cubs like a normal person.

No anger.

No confusion.

No insult.

Only interest.

A thin, cold interest that made Swanly’s back go tight.

He thought the cubs were silly. She could see that much. He thought they were tiny, loud, frightened things trying to make their father sound bigger than the river.

But he had also heard them.

Mama magic.

Mama pow pow.

The words meant nothing to most beast people.

They meant something to him because Swanly smelled wrong.

And because his broken core had stirred the moment her scent reached him.

Soren had come to the gate because the guards found another hidden bite in the line. He had not come for a female. He did not waste time on softness. He had no patience for crying, mating fights, jealous males, or females who looked at him with fear and disgust.

He needed one thing.

A living female strong enough to stand beside him in the Rot Nest.

And that female was in front of him.