"I never knew you were into horses, Timmy. That's wild!"
"I really like riding horses, you know? It used to be my absolute favorite thing to do back when I was a teenager. But, that's not why I asked you to come here. Now that I'm retired, I've had a bit more time to think about things... about what Dave said last night. It's been on my mind."
I narrowed my eyes, trying to gauge your reaction. "How do you know about that?" intertwined without my knowledge.
Timothee leaned back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, his eyes locked onto mine. "Oh, Dave was quite chatty last evening. He mentioned it, thinking I already knew. It seems he forgets not everything is public knowledge yet."
"If so, did you remember to take your medicine?" I nibbled on my lower lip, feeling a bit awkward as Timothee's gaze now locked onto my eyes.
"Medicine, what are you talking about, Barby? I'm not sick at all," Timothee shrugged and continued on his way towards some newly cleaned horse stables.
I followed Timothee, still unsure of what to make of his nonchalant response. Was it possible that he really didn't know about my medication? Or was he trying to play coy? I couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right.
As we entered the stables, I could see Dave already hard at work with one of the horses.
"Oh hi!" He was surprised and spilled a little water in front of him.
"What are you doing this early in the horse stable?" I was puzzled.
"HM.... Cleaning Lycan's favorite horse." Dave nodded his head.
"I see," I replied, still feeling confused. "But why so early in the morning?"
Dave chuckled. "Well, Lycan wanted his horse to be ready for a ride at sunrise."
I glanced at Timothee, dressed in riding helmet and boots. "Are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" I asked, still not fully understanding the situation.
"Ready for our morning ride," Timothee replied with a grin. " I want to invite you to get to know the other Silver Armor members."
I was taken aback by the sudden invitation. Lycan was known for being a solitary person and rarely invited anyone to join him on his rides.
"Why the sudden invitation?" I step back.
Timothee's voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of excitement as he explained, "I only intend to introduce you to the other pack members because, little by little, you will officially become one of us. It's important that they get to know you gradually, understand who you are, and see why you belong here with us."
I shifted uncomfortably, managing a nervous laugh.
"That's, uh, really generous of you, Timothee, but don't you think... I mean, are you sure they'll like me? What if they don't see me as one of the pack? What if I'm just... well, too different?" My voice trailed off, betraying my insecurity and fear of not fitting in with Timothee's pack.
Timothee's eyes softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Listen," he began, his voice laced with unwavering conviction, "whether it's suitable or not suitable in their eyes, only you can provide offspring for me. That's a fact that won't change regardless of anyone's opinion."
He paused, glancing over at Dave who stood frozen in place, a silent witness to our conversation. "Even now, I'm looking for Dave's validation, yet deep down, I know what we have, what we're planning... it's between us. Your uniqueness is what drew me to you in the first place. Remember that."
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the clearing where the pack had gathered. Timothee led me to the center, where curious eyes followed our every move. The air was thick with the scent of pine and anticipation.
Dave stepped forward, his gaze intense but not unkind.
"You're different, that's true," he said, his voice carrying across the silent crowd. "But difference is not weakness. It's strength. It's what makes a pack diverse, resilient."
The silence stretched between us, a tangible entity filled with unspoken words and emotions. I watched as Timothee's silhouette merged with the horse's shadow, becoming one with the creature in a display of unspoken trust and power. His hand, firm yet gentle, guided the horse with an ease that spoke of years of companionship.
The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur not just in size but in the stories etched into its very stones. As we approached, the horse's hooves clicked rhythmically against the cobblestone path, a steady beat that echoed the racing of my heart.
Timothee didn't look back, but his posture spoke volumes; it was an invitation to witness, to be part of something greater.
The journey was brief, a mere whisper of time, yet it felt like crossing into a different realm. Dismounting the horse, I stood there, momentarily lost, my hand instinctively reaching up to scratch the back of my neck—a silent testament to the sudden uncertainty that washed over me.
Laughter and shouts filled the air, a cacophony of pure, unadulterated joy. Children, mirroring Asher and Sawyer in their youthful exuberance, darted about. Their games were simple yet profound, a dance of innocence that pulled at the very fabric of my being. They were oblivious to the complexities of the world beyond their play, a world I was stepping into with trepidation.
"Lycan's coming!" those kids shouted.
One by one, the others came forward, their initial wariness giving way to acceptance. They shared stories of their own first days, their voices weaving a tapestry of unity and belonging. I listened, my heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose.
A hush fell over the gathered children as the smallest among them, a boy with eyes like polished agate, stepped forward. His voice, when he spoke, was tinged with the innocence of youth and the gravity of ancient forests.
"Are you?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his gaze piercing through the facade of titles and roles. "Are you the one who will sing to the moon and dance with the stars? Are you the one who will lead with heart and soul?"
I met his gaze, letting the silence speak first. Then, with a smile that felt like the first breeze of spring, I knelt before him, placing my hand over my heart.
"Yes, I am."
The teenage girl stepped forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of mischief. "Really, Lycan?" she asked, her voice a mix of wonder and disbelief. "Does that mean Caitlin's witch is no longer Luna?"
Timothee chuckled, his eyes dancing mischievously.
"You're a riot, kids. Looks like she won't be gracing this place with her presence again," he said, a sly grin creeping across his face.
"Thank goodness Caitlin's witch won't become Luna! We won't have to endure her scolding anymore," a boy with blonde hair exclaimed, his voice filled with relief and joy.
Timothee's expression shifted in an instant, his mirthful eyes suddenly losing their spark. A shadow fell over his face, hardening his features as though an internal storm was brewing, barely contained.
"What do you mean, kids?" The question came out low and dangerous, a stark contrast to his earlier joviality.
I stood up, feeling my body tense with an unexpected surge of surprise.
A sharp intake of breath filled the room as the little girl with blonde hair forcefully elbowed the boy beside her in the chest.
"Jeez, why do you say that, Carl? Lycans can get angry," she hissed, eyes wide with a mix of fear and caution.
Her glance flitted nervously towards Timothee, who now stood like a tempest personified, a stark reminder of the formidable nature often hidden beneath the calm.
"What on earth did Caitlin do to you all?!"