Eny

In less than a second Ylfa was off his shoulder and leaning over the girl, who had sat up and rubbed her striking green eyes. Jere shifted quickly to her other side, crouching opposite. The girl blinked up at them, gaze flicking between their faces.

“Mama?” she asked again, small voice trembling.

Ylfa’s heart slammed against her ribs. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out - just the sting of tears flooding her eyes. Jere noticed her silence and stepped in.

“Hello,” he said gently. “Are you alright?”

The girl studied him for a long moment, then gave a hesitant nod.
“I… I’m alright. Who are you guys? Where’s Mama?”

Ylfa’s breath hitched. She swallowed hard, but her voice cracked all the same.
“Child… I’m sorry. Your mama is gone. She left you with us.”

The girl’s big green eyes blinked, confusion clouding her face.
“Mama is gone? Where did she go?”

Ylfa broke. She scooped the girl into her arms, hugging her tight against her chest. Her voice came in ragged bursts between sobs.
“I-I’m sorry. Sh-she’s g-gone. W-we couldn’t s-save her…”

Tears streamed freely as the child wrapped small arms around her neck, still not fully understanding.

“It’s okay, miss,” the girl whispered into her fur. “She’ll come back.”

Jere spoke softly, his tone stripped of its usual logic, carrying only quiet sincerity.
“I’m sorry. She won’t be coming back. She’s gone… to heaven.”

The girl’s eyes widened, wetness brimming as the meaning sank in.
“Sh-she’s… gone, gone?”

Jere nodded once.

The child’s sobs broke loose, muffled against Ylfa’s shoulder as Ylfa wept with her, clutching her as if holding them both together was the only thing keeping her upright.

Jere sat still, listening to the sound of their cries. The plan to not expose her to the truth had crumbled before it began. He glanced at the little knit top spread between them - the makeshift blanket that had cradled the girl minutes ago. Somehow, it already felt heavier than any armor he had ever sliced through.

When the sobs finally faded, the girl sat curled in Ylfa’s lap, rubbing her eyes. Ylfa held her close, the crackle of the fire not quite enough to push back the creeping chill of the night. She stroked the child’s hair with gentle, steady motions.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

The girl lowered her hands, sniffling.
“Eny.”

Ylfa smiled through damp lashes.
“That’s a cute name. My name’s-”

“Wolf-girl,” Eny cut in, matter-of-fact.

Ylfa blinked, caught off guard, but then her lips curved.
“Okay then. Wolf-girl it is. Do you want to make a name for that guy too?”

She pointed at Jere. Eny nodded solemnly.
“Yes. He needs a name.”

Ylfa grinned.
“How about Wing-man?”

Eny tilted her head.
“Wing-man?”

Ylfa nodded and arched her brows at Jere. He hesitated, then slowly, almost reluctantly, spread his wings to their full span. Firelight caught on their edges.

Eny’s eyes went wide. She gasped.
“Woah.”

Ylfa ruffled her hair.
“Yup. So is Wing-man good?”

Eny nodded happily.

Jere wasn’t thrilled. He would’ve preferred “Jere” or even “J-1.” But he didn’t complain. Eny. The name stirred something faint in his systems, some distant memory his processors couldn’t reach. He let it slip away - if it couldn’t be recalled, it wasn’t important.

He tossed another log onto the fire. By the time he turned back, Eny had curled up on the knit top again, Ylfa still stroking her hair. Within moments, the girl’s eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted into sleep.

“That could’ve gone a lot worse,” Ylfa whispered.

He nodded.

She smiled, a teasing glint breaking through the fatigue.
“You should’ve seen your face. You have no idea what to do with a child, do you?”

Heat flushed his cheeks. He didn’t know what expression he’d been wearing - probably sheer confusion - but whatever it was, Ylfa found it funny. And she was right: he had no clue how to handle a child. He’d barely even seen them before, let alone watched someone care for one.

Ylfa sighed, glancing at the rabbit that had long since charred to ash over the fire.
“She didn’t even say she was hungry. She just yawned and told me she was tired.”

Her hand lingered on Eny’s hair, then fell back to her lap. She smiled faintly.
“I’m going to turn in. You’ll guard us, right?”

He nodded. Of course he would. Why did she want him to confirm?

She hesitated, then asked softly, almost shyly,
“Can… can you kneel?”

Confused, he obeyed, shifting from cross-legged to kneeling. She smiled, turned around, and let her tail sweep across the ground as she slowly leaned back.

His heart jolted when her head came to rest in his lap.

He froze, staring down at her in stunned silence. This wasn’t remotely close to anything he expected after such a request.

She looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curved in the faintest smile.
“Goodnight. Wake me if you need something.”

And then she closed her eyes, utterly at ease.

Jere just sat there, his heart pounding, lost in the warmth of her weight against him. He couldn’t have moved if he tried.

“I’m so tall!”

Eny clung to Ylfa’s head, squealing with delight as she rode high on her shoulders. The three of them moved through the forest beneath a rising sun, the world bathed in gold. They had been walking for an hour, yet Eny had not once asked for food, water, or even a break.

It puzzled both Jere and Ylfa. Perhaps, Jere reasoned, it was her age. Maybe she couldn’t fully grasp what losing a parent truly meant. She had never mentioned a father - no “Papa” on her lips - so perhaps she’d already suffered one loss. Maybe the second simply hadn’t hit her the same way.

Ylfa, though, was transformed. The way she smiled and laughed with Eny, the way she balanced her on her shoulders and ran with her - there was nothing feigned about it. It was genuine, radiant. A deep, instinctive affection. Watching the girl’s mother die had awoken something primal inside Ylfa, a fierce need to protect. And perhaps those last whispered words had bound her heart even tighter.

She spun with Eny’s legs in her hands, both of them laughing as sunlight streamed through the canopy. The light gilded Ylfa’s face, and Jere’s gaze lingered. The joy spread across her features was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It stole his breath.

A tug rose at the corners of his lips. Warmth bloomed in his chest. The constant itch of his retracted wings dulled as, for the first time in his life, a small, unbidden smile broke across his face.

His processors scrambled to catalogue it: cause, sensation, conditions required for replication. They waited only for the consequences to complete the log.

But Ylfa saw it first. She froze mid-spin, eyes widening in pure shock. Jere’s smile faltered, instantly replaced with concern.
“Ylfa? Are you alright?”

Eny tugged impatiently at her ears.
“Wolf-girl! Why’d you stop?”

Ylfa blinked, then her expression burst into a grin so wide it threatened to split her face.
“Jere! You can smile!” She laughed, voice overflowing with joy. “You have no idea what it was like, staring at your empty face for so long. I was losing hope. Oh, this is wonderful! What a beautiful day!”

Her joy lit something inside him, and another, shy smile slipped through his guard.

Ylfa spun back to his side, Eny squealing with delight from her shoulders. She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling.
“What were you thinking of that made you smile?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks. He knew exactly what it was - her. He had felt it for a long time, that warmth whenever he looked at her. But only now had he finally connected the feeling to its name: love.

He turned his gaze away, trying to hide the flush. Ylfa giggled, only to yelp as Eny smacked her head in protest.
“Hey! Keep going!”

“Okay, okay… Ow! Alright!” Ylfa laughed, resuming her run, twirling beneath the golden shafts of light.

And Jere kept smiling.

The day wore on. Eventually Eny was shifted from Ylfa’s shoulders to Jere’s. He held her ankles carefully, uncertain if he was doing it right. She patted the top of his head with a giggle.
“You’re tall, wing-man.”

He accepted it as the compliment it was.
“Thank you.”

Her laughter rang bright.
“I want to fly in the sky.”

Ylfa glanced sideways at him, eyes curious. Jere sighed.
“I’ll take you up someday. When you’re older.”

Eny pouted.
“Aw…”

But his decision wasn’t arbitrary. His sensors had flagged something unusual in Eny the moment they’d met: an unknown energy radiated faintly from her body. It wasn’t human. His processors were still working to analyze its nature and its risks. Until he understood it, he wouldn’t risk taking both Ylfa and Eny into the air. If anything went wrong, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Ylfa - and Ylfa had already given her heart to Eny. So he remained grounded, no matter how much the child longed for the sky.

As the sun slanted low in the west, the three of them came upon a hill. The slope wasn’t too steep if you climbed at an angle, but trying to walk it straight-on would only send you sliding back down. Jere kept his eyes on the ground, choosing each step with care.

“Why are we going up?” Ylfa asked.

“I want to see if we can get a view of where we are,” he replied without looking up.

She nodded. It made sense - he was used to having the whole world spread beneath him. On the ground, with the trees hemming them in, he had no such vantage point.

As they walked up the hillside they seemed to cross an invisible barrier. The trees stopped, and the canopy spread out below them like a sea. Halfway up the hill, Eny suddenly thrust out her little arm and shouted.
“Hey! There’s a cave!”

Sure enough, a dark mouth opened in the hillside. Large enough to stand in without stooping, and broad enough for two adults to lie head to toe, it stretched back only a short distance before ending in smooth stone.

Ylfa’s eyes lit with relief.
“Well! This looks perfect for a temporary home.”

Jere had been thinking the same thing. But Eny’s voice carried disappointment.
“Home? The cave?”

They both nodded. Ylfa crouched to meet her eyes, smiling sadly.
“Sorry, Eny. We can’t stay in an actual house right now.”

Eny blinked in confusion.
“Oh? Why not?”

Ylfa lowered her gaze, voice soft.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The child groaned.
“Do I have to wait till I’m older for everything?”

Ylfa chuckled and glanced at Jere, who gave a small nod. She straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Should we stay here for now?”

He nodded again. It wasn’t much. But it was a roof, of sorts, and a place to stop running - at least for a little while.