The first rays of dawn crept through the canopy, painting the clearing in soft gold. The fire had died to embers. The cubs were still asleep in their pile, Hóng Yè's tail thrown protectively over both younger brothers.
And Bai Yue was trying to sneak back into camp like a criminal.
Slowly, she thought, tiptoeing past the log where Yàn Shū slept curled around his herb pouch. Slowly and quietly. Just slip into your hut and—
"Good morning, little mate."
Bai Yue shrieked.
Zhāo Yàn was right there. Leaning against a tree, his arms crossed, his nine tails fanned out behind him. His crimson eyes were narrowed to slits.
"You're up early," Bai Yue squeaked, clutching her chest. "Very early! Very... healthy! Morning person!"
"Am I?" Zhāo Yàn's voice was silk wrapped around a blade. He pushed off the tree and stalked toward her. "Because I've been awake for hours, Bai Yue. Hours. Watching the river. Waiting."
"Oh? That's... dedicated?"
