Koda;

Instinct is the first law of survival.

Before reason, before tradition... Before fear.

Instinct has always been the voice that whispered before the world learned how to scream.

And mine has never led me astray.

Not in war, not in rulership... and certainly not in matters of loyalty or betrayal.

So why, then, does it feel like I was standing at the edge of something that might consume me every time I look at Alana?

I would be a liar if I said that I do not feel it. That I do not sense it.

The things Rhydian says about her... and more. I can feel it! That’s strange... underlying difference!

My refusal to accept it however is fear. Our people are still healing and I am so unwilling to accept that just at the hem of our recovery... could be a new problem.

I just want my people to have peace! But... refusing to acknowledge a potential threat is not peace. In fact, it will only birth the one thing I hope to avoid. Chaos.

I told myself I was imagining it. I told myself grief changes people, and Alana was no different.

I told myself Elián’s absence has carved something out of her. But instinct does not repeat itself without reason.

And today, I have decided to stop circling the thought and finally face it.

I left my hut this morning with one purpose. If there is anyone I need to inform before speaking to Alana directly, it’s Mother.

I need to tell her how I feel... the things Rhydian has said, and I need her advice and confirmation.

The path through the village is mostly quiet this early in the morning. Lanterns glow softly from a few huts, the air is woven with the scent of dew, damp earth and ash from the evening fires.

But despite how early it is, some children will still find their way out to play.

"Good morning, Alpha Koda!!" Two boys greet me as they run past me, and I smile in response as I watch them go.

They are young. Full of life and energy. Let them burn as much as they want. After all, you can never hide fire.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the laughter of children playing, and my heart exhales in glee.

At least, the children seem to be forgetting the terror we faced at the hands of those witches.

Even Mother seems to have made peace with the absence of her beast.

The thoughts hardly settle when a sound suddenly cuts through the children’s laughter.

A scream.

I freeze as I turn in the direction of the voices. Their laughter bleeds into high-pitched panic and broken sobs.

My body springs into action before my mind can catch up.

I turn sharply, following the sound as I break into a run. The closer I get, the clearer it becomes.

I soon stop once I spot the children through the trees. I assess the situation to see the problem, but the chaos is difficult to understand at first glance.

It’s a cluster of children gathered near the edge of a river. They look scared as they stare at something in the water and my brows crease.

What are they—?

"He’s not coming up!" One of them screams, and lightning strikes in my mind.

My eyes dart back to the deceptively calm river and fear holds my spine.

The river’s surface is smooth like polished glass, but I know its undercurrent. I personally know how it drags. How it swallows.

If one of the children fell in...

Goodness!!

I immediately start pulling off my sandals when something dashes through the trees in the distance.

Before I can get a proper view, the person leaps into the water, and I freeze.

Because only after she’s jumped in, do I recognise her.

I know that frame.

Alana cuts through the river like she had been born to it, her strokes are powerful and unafraid as she reaches the bubbles and pulls up a struggling child.

I watch, stunned, as she hooks an arm around him and kicks hard against the pull of the current, while hauling him back to the surface.

She does not panic, nor does she shout, and I find myself blending with the shades to watch.

She moves with a remarkable kind of focus.

When she drags the boy onto the bank, his body is limp, his skin pale, and his chest terrifyingly still...

No. He... he can’t be dead.

The children wail in panic, but Alana ignores them.

She places her hands on the boy’s chest, and I lean closer to watch her. She presses once... twice, then she tilted his head back and breathes into his mouth, sealing her lips over his without hesitation.

She presses again, with her rhythm steady and deliberate, as if some ancient knowledge is guiding her hands.

The raw, honed skill and gift of every Floplin.

Water spills from the boy’s mouth as he coughs, and relief crashes into me so hard that I almost stumble.

I watch the child’s body jerk violently as breath returns to him in a ragged gasp.

The sound of it hit me harder than any scream could have.

Life.

He’s alive. Alana saved him!

The children erupt into sobs and laughter all at once, clinging to each other as the boy wheezes and cries, while clutching at Alana’s sleeve like she is his saviour.

Just then... when she’s sure that boy is okay, she sags.

I watch the adrenaline drain from her body so fast, my heart drops in response.

She sways on her knees, as she places one hand on the earth, with the other still resting on the boy’s shoulder.

Without wasting another moment, I cross the distance and catch her as she tips sideways. Stopping her just before her head crashes into the ground.

Some of the flowers in her hair fall off, and her ears fall limply as I hold her.

She’s light in my arms. Frightingly light.

Her skin is cold... Damp from the river, and her breath is uneven as she tries to stand back up.

"I’m fine," she murmurs stubbornly, but her knees buckle again.

"You’re not," I reply, and this time, I do not ask.

I lift her easily, with her head resting briefly against my shoulder before she forces herself upright again, with embarrassment flickering across her face.

The children start gathering around us now, with the crisis dissolving into chaos and gratitude, but I don’t have time for that now.

"You all head back home. Now." I order, and the children obey immediately. I can’t leave any of them here again.

Alana looks like she’s about to pass out.

I turned back toward the village, with Alana cradled against me, and my thoughts now in ruins.

A woman who jumped into a river without hesitation to save a child.

A woman who knew how to pull breath back into an unconscious person with nothing but her hands and lungs.

...A woman who risked her life to save a child.

Goodness does not pretend itself like that. She didn’t even know I was watching.

By the time I reach the first row of huts, my earlier resolve crumbles entirely.

I was wrong.

That is the only conclusion that makes sense.

I was wrong about Alana. She just risked her life to save a child. That’s the Alana I know. That’s exactly what she’ll do.

Before I can take another step, someone walks up to me and stops in front of me.

I look up and freeze.

Alpha Liandria.

She’s standing in the path with her posture calm as always. Her gaze turns sharp as it flicks from Alana’s slack form in my arms up to my face.

"I’ll take her," she says flatly as she holds out her hands and my brows crease.

"She needs rest." She adds, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.

Respect demanded I listen. But I know better than to actually do what she just asked.

"With all due respect," I say carefully, adjusting my hold as Alana stirs weakly,

"I’ll see to her myself," I reply, and Liandria’s eyes narrowed slightly. Not in anger. In assessment.

"Koda," she then calls. Saying my name with the weight warning,

"You misunderstand—" She begins, but I cut her off.

"No," I reply, with my voice steady despite the storm roaring in my chest.

"I don’t think I do," I add, and she steps closer, but I do not move.

"I’ve just watched this woman pull a child back from death," I continue quietly.

"She nearly collapsed doing it. And given your history—" I continue, and her jaw tightened.

"—I won’t hand her over to anyone who might see her as something to be corrected," I conclude, and silence snaps between us.

My words seem to have struck a chord, but she remains silent as she watches me.

"If you so much as touch her with intent to harm," I continue, meeting her gaze fully now,

"I don’t care that Mother has allowed you here. I will have you removed from Gravemaw myself." I note, and for the first time since I’d met her, Alpha Liandria looked genuinely stunned.

Not furious. Not calculating. Just... Stunned.

I did not wait for her reply.

I move around her, carrying Alana away, with her faint breathing steadying against my chest.

Behind me, I feel Alpha Liandria’s gaze linger.

And somewhere deep in me, a certainty settles in my bones.

I know my instincts do not scream for no reason.

But tonight, I chose to believe in the woman who saved a child.

Whether that choice would damn me or not... only time would tell.