Chapter 9: Strange Mate
He had shifted back into human form, with a hide tied low around his waist and fresh prey held in one hand. His panther ears were still out, dark against his wet hair, and his long tail hung behind him, completely still.
He was staring at her.
No.
He was staring at all of them.
At the cubs sprawled over her lap.
At Swanly’s hand resting gently on the eldest cub’s back.
At the smallest cub half-buried against her chest.
At the second cub still clutching her tail like it was treasure.
At her face, where laughter had not fully disappeared.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were not.
His eyes looked stunned.
Swanly’s smile did not exactly drop.
It just became awkward, like it had walked into the wrong room and did not know where to stand.
She sat up slowly, gathering the cubs before they could tumble off her.
"Hi."
Kael did not answer at first.
He lowered the prey onto a flat stone near the entrance.
It looked like some kind of small deer, lean and brown-furred, with long legs and delicate horns. There was blood at its neck, but the body looked fresh, not rotten. Still, Swanly’s stomach tightened the moment she saw it.
Kael’s gaze returned to her.
"You were laughing with them."
Swanly blinked.
The cubs looked up at him.
The smallest immediately sat taller, as if he wanted his father to see that he was currently inside Mama’s arms and had no intention of moving.
Swanly frowned. "Yeah. So what?"
Kael’s jaw shifted.
His voice was low. "You never laugh with them."
The cave grew quiet.
The cubs stopped moving.
Swanly looked down at the three little bodies pressed close to her, then back at him.
Kael continued, "You never let them near you."
The words landed heavily, but Swanly did not look away.
She could have lied.
She could have said she did not remember.
She could have hidden behind confusion again.
But the cubs were listening, and for some reason, that mattered more than protecting herself.
She placed one hand over the smallest cub’s back and lifted her chin.
"These are my babies."
Kael went still.
The cubs went still too.
Swanly’s voice became firmer. "From now on, they are my babies. I will treat them like my children, and I will love them like my children."
The reaction was instant.
The smallest cub squeaked.
The second cub’s eyes shone.
The eldest’s serious little face broke so completely that he looked stunned by happiness, as if his tiny body did not know where to put so much joy.
"Mama say love," the smallest whispered.
The second cub pushed his face into Swanly’s arm.
The eldest pressed his forehead against her side and stood there, stiff with emotion, pretending he was not about to cry again.
Kael stared at her as if she had just changed the shape of the world.
His eyes searched her face.
Suspicion was still there.
So was fear.
But beneath both of them was something far more dangerous.
Hope.
Swanly could not look at it for too long.
Hope from a man like Kael was too intense. It made her feel as if she had accidentally picked up something sharp and precious.
So she quickly cleared her throat, set the cubs gently on the animal skins, and stood.
"Anyway," she said, choosing cowardice with grace, "what did you bring?"
Kael watched her for another long second before his eyes shifted to the prey.
"Longleg deer," he said. "Fresh. I killed it near the river path."
Swanly stepped closer.
The moment she smelled blood, old instincts rose in her hard and fast.
She crouched near the prey and frowned.
The cubs padded after her, staying close to her feet.
Kael’s gaze followed every movement, especially the way the cubs now crowded around her without fear.
Swanly leaned toward the deer, careful not to touch it yet.
The fur looked clean.
The eyes were clear, not milky.
The mouth was shut, no black saliva, no strange foam.
The wound smelled like blood, not rot.
Still, she narrowed her eyes.
"Is that infected?"
Kael stared at her for a moment, his gaze dropping to the prey before returning to her face.
"It is clean," he said. "Nothing touched it. Nothing dead-bitten. I killed it before it reached the river path."
Swanly let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.
"Good."
She crouched lower and studied the longleg deer again. Its eyes were clear, its mouth was clean, and there was no black saliva staining its teeth. The blood at its neck was still fresh and red, not that thick, rotten darkness she had seen far too many times before.
Only then did her shoulders loosen a little.
"Those things are called infected," she said quietly. "At least, in this world, they should be called infected beastmen. If something dead-looking bites you and then you start acting dead-looking too, that is infection. I don’t care what fancy forest name you people give it."
Kael’s eyes shifted.
The way she spoke was strange.
Too certain.
Too familiar with fear.
She did not sound like a female who had been protected inside caves and dens all her life. She sounded like someone who had watched people turn before. Someone who had learned to check eyes, mouths, wounds, blood, smell, and movement before trusting anything with teeth.
That alone was strange enough.
But it was not the strangest thing.
The strangest thing was that she was still standing near him.
She was not covering her nose as if his scent disgusted her. She was not stepping away from his shadow. She was not telling him to leave the prey outside. She was not snapping at the cubs to stop pressing against her legs.
The smallest cub had one paw on Swanly’s ankle.
She had not kicked him away.
The second cub was close enough that his round little head brushed the side of her calf.
She had not moved.
The eldest stood in front of his brothers with his tiny chest puffed out, trying to look brave, but his ears kept twitching nervously.
Kael noticed all of it.
He noticed everything.
His brows drew together, and his voice dropped. "What is wrong with you?"
Swanly looked up at once. "Excuse me?"
"You are not disgusted."
Her frown faltered.
Kael’s golden eyes stayed on her face. "You are not pushing me away. You are not telling me to leave. You are not telling the cubs to move far from you."
The cave went quiet.
The smallest cub froze against Swanly’s leg.
The second lowered his head so slowly it made Swanly’s chest hurt.
The eldest’s tiny claws pressed into the animal skin beneath him, his little body stiff as if he was waiting for something bad to happen.
Swanly saw it.
She saw the way all three babies reacted, not like Kael’s words were new, but like they had heard this kind of thing too many times before.
Not accusations.
Memories.
Bad ones.
Sharp ones.
The kind that had already bitten them before they were even old enough to understand why.
Swanly’s throat tightened.
Then she remembered.
Right.
The original Swanly had been awful.
Swanly still did not know how awful, not fully, but every new reaction in this cave gave her another little piece of the truth. The cubs were scared of being thrown away. Kael was confused by kindness. The babies looked shocked every time she smiled. Even laughter felt new to them.
That was not normal.
That was not just a bad mood.
That was a life built with cold hands.
Swanly swallowed.
In the apocalypse, kindness could kill, but loneliness could kill faster. No one survived alone forever. Even with a system, she had learned that allies mattered, but trusting the wrong person could be worse than facing a horde with no weapon. In her old world, partners betrayed each other for rice, water, medicine, and a chance to run faster than someone else.
Maybe this world was different.
Maybe it was worse.
Maybe it was exactly the same with prettier animals.
Either way, Kael was strong, loyal to the cubs, and apparently willing to risk himself for a mate who had treated him like dirt.
Swanly made a mental note to drag answers out of her glowing criminal system later.
For now, she had to fix what she could.
She took one step toward Kael.
Kael instantly took one step back.
It was not fear.
It was reflex.
That somehow made it sadder.
Swanly stopped.
The cubs looked up quickly.