Chapter Text
"Don't blink. Don't walk away. And don't you dare change the channel..."
The cameraman tightened the frame. Cerulean blades burst to life, carving through a prop plank and sending sparks across the stage.
"When we return," Teddy, the Ceruledge, continued, admiring himself in the lens, "you'll witness our exclusive, live interview with the daughter of Chief Apollo—Maple. Trust me, folks, you won't want to miss it."
Director Three snapped their claws. A cue whistle followed from stage right. The crew flooded into formation with clipboards, coiled wires, and headsets big enough to crush a Snorlax.
Zinnia, the Mismagius, rose from the trapdoor in a swirl of violet smoke. Her ribbons fluttered like miniature curtains, hat tilting enough to hide a smug grin. The golden charm at her throat glinted like brilliant rubies.
"Neon Sparks Media," she purred. "The only news you can trust. Live in five."
The feed cut. Studio lights dimmed for a commercial break.
Teddy twirled a blade and propped himself against a wardrobe rack. Zinnia hovered nearby, inspecting her reflection in a hand mirror as she dabbed glitter gel along the rim of her cloak.
"Think she'll get all pissy on camera?" the Mismagius asked, smearing a streak of ghost-cream across her cheek. "Or faint? I adore a dramatic show."
"Why not both?" Teddy smirked. "Easy money. We break the bitch, put on a show, get drunk after."
"I like the way you think." Zinnia pinched her face with eyeliner and marveled at her own reflection. "Ruining reputations keeps the lights on. And it keeps my sexy ass on air."
"You're obsessed with yourself." Teddy smirked, crossing his arms.
"Hush, babe. You know you love me."
The curtains danced as they shuffled backstage. Zinnia snapped her compact shut and pulled a purple scarf from the spare cabinet. Teddy helped her tighten it, sharpening his blades on a loose strand of metal afterward.
"Where's the little princess, anyway?" He grinned, lifting his visor toward the empty interview chair. "She should've been mic'd by now."
"Probably backstage shitting herself. She'd better not bail on us." Zinnia turned a shoulder, her violet ribbons splashed with glitter.
Before either could speak again, a thin line of electricity slithered across the floor. Sparks crackled through a cable, jumped to a metal railing, and burst into a sphere of light.
The studio air thickened. Stray bolts twisted into a silhouette, the radios flickering and cameras blacking out. A dense smog swept across the stage, blinding their eyes.
From the haze stepped a Sneasler, his long claws and slender curves piercing the room. His grin stretched long and clean, perfectly chiseled into his face.
"Miss me?" Zephyr brushed a spark off his shoulder like lint. The amulet dangling from his claw throbbed with every flicker.
Zinnia and Teddy straightened.
The Sneasler stalked forward, dragging his feet like stunted drums. "You two need a break. Let me handle the princess."
Teddy groaned. "Thought you were busy today, Zeph."
"Change of schedule. I got time now."
"No fair," Zinnia snapped, her lips pursed. "We dragged the bitch here. Why do you get all the fun?"
"Relax, Zinny." Zephyr brushed a claw along her shoulder, casual and coaxing. "You know how it is. Camera on me. You two keep the show running. Keep the crew off their tails."
Teddy traded a look with the Mismagius. They sighed in unison.
"And what's in it for us?" the Ceruledge demanded. "You can't just swoop in and steal our segment right before we air, asshole. That's messed up."
"Don't stress yourself, Teddy Bear." Zephyr lifted a claw and traced the side of Teddy's helmet, lingering there. "Do me this one, tiny little favor, and afterward, maybe you and I can..."
A wink.
"Celebrate together. I'll peel you out of that armor, put on that gay shit you always like, get you nice and relaxed." He licked his lips. "Sound fun?"
Teddy huffed, his visor tinting a shade darker. His silence served as a yes.
"You two can be horny all you want," Zinnia cut in, floating forward until her hat jabbed his chest. "But what's in it for me? You didn't even give us a heads-up. Dick move, Zeph."
"I know, I know," the Sneasler said, his palms up in a mock apology. "But don't pout, Zin-Zin. You two made a splash at Apollo's press conference yesterday. Once that drops, I'll make sure Celestia throws you a treat. Put in a good word for you, boost that salary, whatever your little heart wants."
He offered a paw. After a reluctant sigh, Zinnia shook it with a ribbon.
"Fine. But you better not fuck up our scoop. The princess of Galena Collis is a goldmine."
"You got it, babe." He blew her a kiss, and after a quick flash, he vanished. Dull sparks lit the floor where he once stood, leading off behind the curtains.
Teddy sighed, his voice irritated. "Great. After our intro and everything." He crossed his blades, tapping his foot. "Find Maple, get her ready. I'll yell at the producers."
"Sure," the Mismagius echoed. "It's showtime."
. . .
"Zeph. Maple. You're on in thirty seconds."
Two chairs gleamed beneath blinding spotlights. Maple shuffled into hers, her leaf drooping, fur brushed in wild patterns by producers off-stage. She stuck out a paw and beamed.
"It's an honor to be here, sir." She giggled. "First time on live television. Must mean my story's, like, a pretty big deal. Glad we can finally clear everything up."
Zephyr grazed her paw between two claws. "Neon Sparks did you dirty at the mall yesterday. Unacceptable. The last thing we'd ever want to do is spread misinformation, Princess."
"Actually," the Leafeon blurted, her ears popping upright. "Um, one itty-bitty correction! Our family isn't royal, so, technically not a princess... hah." She sank a bit. "Just Maple is fine. Please."
"Maple it is." He winked. "Anything else before we go live, babe? Nerves? Excitement?"
"Oh, gosh, yes! I'm so excited!" Maple's tail twitched. "If yesterday's interview aired, they'd have made my dad look awful. Like he didn't love me at all. But tonight, I just want people to hear the real story—about the museum, nothing else."
"How noble of you." Zephyr rubbed his claws together. "And don't worry, Maple. Your story won't go unheard."
The floor manager lifted his paws:
Five.
Four.
Three—
"Because," Zephyr murmured, leaning in just an inch, "the entire region will be watching tonight."
The lights ignited.
Zephyr's face transformed in an instant, a glow of warmth, charm, and polished charisma snapping into place like a mask.
With the snap of a clipboard, a live feed began.
"Good evening, Sylva Skies. You're watching Neon Sparks Media, broadcasting live from the heart of Lotus Falls. I'm your host, Zephyr, bringing you the truth, spark by spark."
He turned enough to frame Maple in the shot.
"Tonight, we welcome a very special guest. A young hero whose bravery at the Cobalt Museum deserves the region's heart."
Maple's chest lifted. Hero. A real one. The word made her smile.
Zephyr extended a claw out, presenting her like a new product. "Maple, daughter of Chief Apollo. Welcome to our show."
"Hiya!" Maple waved a paw a little too hard, her leaf bobbing. "Thanks for having me. Super excited to, uh, clear the air. Haha."
"Oh?" Zephyr's eyes twinkled. "Clear the air about what, exactly?"
"Well, about what happened at the museum." Maple sat taller. "There was an article last week that sorta erased me from the story. But tonight, I want to—"
"So you weren't credited?" His tone stayed sweet, but his eyes tightened like a trap. "In your own story?"
"Right." She nodded. "There were three robbers that day. And, unlike what the report claimed, no defenders showed up in time. It was just me, my friend, and a room full of scientists."
"Go on. What happened after that?"
Maple sucked air through her nose. "Well, I fought, rescued the scientists, and stopped the crook from hijacking the tech he wanted. No defender in sight—it was all me. And I think, y'know, we should correct the record."
"The truth," Zephyr clarified, tapping his claws. "I couldn't agree more. And if I may, Maple. Who wrote that article? The one everyone's buzzing about?"
The Leafeon stiffened. Her pulse tapped in her ears, and a nervous laugh slipped through. "Uh... I believe the IACT did. They were the only ones allowed on-site that day. No need to point fingers, though."
"Fascinating." His smile sharpened. "And, babe, remind the audience who runs the IACT. The standing beacon of justice, as we call them."
Maple's throat tightened. "My dad does. But I don't see why that—"
"So you're telling me, Chief Apollo is behind this? Your own father, silencing that pretty little face of yours? That's a twist none of us saw coming." Zephyr frowned into the lens, feigning surprise for all the viewers at home.
The flying cameras zoomed in, hungry for her reaction. Her rebuttal.
"Wait, hold on. I thought we were just talking about the museum?" Maple gulped. "My father isn't part of this. He wasn't, like, out to sabotage me or anything, haha."
"Pumpkin, if Apollo wasn't trying to sabotage you," Zephyr purred, patting the arm of her chair, "then why'd you seek out us for help? To cut through his lies?"
"What are you trying to..." Her voice trembled. "He was just doing his job. That's all. Can we please move on to—"
"That's why you came today," Zephyr interrupted, spreading his claws like a billboard. "You called into our studio on a Sunday night to set the record straight. To tear down his name, expose Apollo for the lying lowlife he is."
He rose from his chair, signaling to the crew off-stage. With a snap of his claws, the screen behind them fluttered to life.
"That takes courage, Princess. Especially after your interview with Neon Sparks' hottest, sexiest duo on camera, Zinnia and Teddy. Let's show the folks a home a clip of how that went."
Maple's stomach dropped. Before she could protest, footage from the mall interview began playing. But not the authentic version.
This video looked edited, clipped with harsh zooms, choppy cuts, and emotional pauses inserted where none existed. Made to fit a new narrative.
Teddy's voice crackled over the speakers:
"So, you feel neglected by him? That he's abandoned you a little?"
Maple's own voice followed, stripped out of context and hollow:
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful—but, yeah, I—feel neglected..."
The clip continued, jumping to Zinnia:
"Does he even have time for family? Have time for you?"
"He's got a lot on his plate. I don't think—he tries. He's a—not—great dad."
The screen paused on a frame of the Leafeon's hurt face, with two fake tear emojis plastered under her eyes for dramatic effect. Maple's jaw hung open.
"I—what? No!" she squeaked. "Zephyr, that's not what I said at all! We talked about this earlier!"
"We did," he said with a purr. "And I promised you that we'd play the footage tonight. For all our lovely, generous donors, tuning in live for the news—and a face—they can trust."
"But you twisted my—"
"Legal disclaimer," Zephyr announced, facing the camera as Maple's mic flicked red and muted. "Neon Sparks Media is not liable for any minor, major, spontaneous, or completely imaginary alterations to tonight's broadcast material. Thank you."
Maple slapped the microphone with both paws, flipping it, shaking it, even tapping the stem like it might reboot. Nothing. The red light mocked her. She sagged in a defeated fury.
Zephyr leaned back and kicked his legs up.
"So, Maple. Back on track. Tell us more about your father."
Her device made a soft ping before lighting green again. Maple groaned.
"I—well, um, my dad is a wonderful father," she blurted. "He always has been. I just got overwhelmed yesterday, and that clip is all wrong. We love each other, and we're not, like, fighting."
"Yes, of course." Zephyr nodded. "The footage we all viewed bleeds that love. It certainly doesn't look like a father-daughter rift, not one bit."
She recoiled. He didn't even need to raise his voice; the mockery seeped out on its own.
Zephyr leaned forward again, his elbows cushioning on the desk. "Earlier today, Maple, you told me you cared about the truth. Is that still the case?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes. Of course it is."
"Excellent." He clapped once, his claws unfolding like vultures. "Then let's talk truth."
The lights dimmed to gray. Somewhere above the rafters, a peppy jazz tune burst to life, far too bubbly and upbeat for the occasion. Zephyr spun in his chair, scooping up a wad of papers with dramatic flair.
The cameras zoomed back in on his smug, spotlight-ready grin.
"Minutes before you sat down, we uncovered a stunning development regarding Hydra, head-commander of Amethyst Elpi. And thanks to the vigilance of our radiant, gorgeous Queen Celestia, we pulled apart a web of deceit woven by one man..."
His claw lowered. He flashed the lens a perfect wink.
"Chief Apollo. Your father. Tell us, Princess, were you aware of this little cover-up? Allegedly, of course."
Maple blinked. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Cover up? What are you talking about?" She forced a nervous laugh. "No, that's... that can't be right. My dad would never lie about that. Hydra's just on a temporary leave, or—"
"On leave," Zephyr repeated, sticking his tongue out like he'd tasted a spoiled oran berry. "Cute. Truly. But that's strange, because the IACT told our reporters something very different yesterday."
The jazz music cut off with a comedic hiccup. Zephyr raised a single sheet of paper, framing the headline in perfect bold strokes for the camera. The lens tightened on it like hungry Mightyenas.
"They lied to you, Sylva Skies," he purred. "Hydra wasn't resting. Wasn't meditating on a mountaintop. He has been missing for over a week. And to our brothers and sisters of Amethyst Elpi..."
His tone dipped with practiced, performative sorrow. "It pains me to say this, but your leader may not be coming home."
A hush devoured the room.
Maple's stomach twisted into knots. Her ears sagged, pulse hammering. Hydra, missing? And her father—
"That's not true," she shouted, slamming her paws onto the desk. "He didn't lie about Hydra! There's no—what's your proof?"
"It's all here, babe." He nudged the document toward her, grinning off-camera. "So let's cut to the juicy part: whose side are you taking? Ours—the stunned, helpless people? Or Daddy's?"
She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "It's not that simple."
"No?" Zephyr cocked his head, his teeth razor-sharp. "I think it's very simple. The IACT lied about him. Your father lied about him." He leaned closer, his voice seductive and poisonous. "And it sounds like you're perfectly fine with that."
"Don't twist this," Maple shot back, her tail lashing. "Someone else could've made a mistake! Maybe he just got bad info? Hydra's strong, and what if he just needed space, or—"
"Space?" The Sneasler laughed, leaning back like she'd told him a joke. "Cupcake, Hydra didn't go on a personal retreat. He vanished. Poof. Gone. Bye-bye Hydra."
He wagged a claw toward the camera and placed a paw on his hips.
"And Chief Apollo still told the region he was sipping tea on a nice little vacation. Lied to every last one of us. Don't you think the people deserve transparency?"
Maple tumbled clean into his web. Every question served as bait, daring her to bite down harder. Sink her fangs in until she loses all control. The interview served not only to bury Apollo, but to tear her down with him.
"That's because Dad didn't know what else to say," Maple insisted, her breath shaking. "I'm telling you—he must have had a good reason. I just know it. This isn't his fault."
The Sneasler teleported to center stage in a crackle of static, milking every second of the spotlight. The cameras snapped to him like iron to a magnet.
"Then clear it up for us, Princess," he said, his black scarf dangling like a cape. "Sylva Skies wants the scoop. Amethyst Elpi wants the scoop. Hell, I want the scoop. The whole world is watching, and we're all dying to know..."
The red light over Maple's mic snapped to life, bright and pulsing. She pawed at it like a desperate kitten, scratching from every angle. But the mute held firm.
Zephyr allowed the silence to bloom, savoring every heartbeat. He marched forward in slow, triumphant strides, his grin locking onto her.
"Would you still defend your father," he began, his eyes burning brighter, "if he lied to an entire region?"
The green light flashed. And for once, Maple wished it hadn't.
Silence pooled around her, thicker than fog. Her paws trembled—hard, uncontrollable, like they'd iced over from the inside.
Sylva Skies was watching. Her father's reputation hung by a thread. Hers dangled beside it. Everything rested on her next breath.
She closed her eyes. The words escaped her in a whisper, thin and nervous:
"Of course I would. He's my dad."
Zephyr's smirk spread slow and satisfied, every fang catching the studio glow as he dipped his head. "And the region thanks you for your honesty."
The camera focused on Maple's stunned, trembling face. Zephyr pivoted back to the lens, wearing that greedy farewell grin he'd perfected over the years.
"More after the break. Don't go anywhere—and remember, you can count on me, Zephyr, for the news you won't find anywhere else."
CUT
The studio lights snapped back to full. Cameras lowered, crew members laughed, and Zephyr relaxed with a casual stretch, brushing his shoulders like nothing had happened.
Maple tried to speak, but nothing came out. The spotlights still burned in her eyes, lenses still flashing like packs of vultures. Her head throbbed as the first tear slipped free, a breath choking her lungs and twisting like a blade.
"Really great work out there, sweetheart." Zinnia materialized from below the desk, her eyes and dress sparkling. "What do you think, Teddy? Thrilled to be backstage for this one?"
The Ceruledge drifted up beside her, his blades crossed and visor glowing. "Real gripping stuff. Might be your big break, Princess."
"Keep it up, Maple." Zinnia giggled behind her ribbon. "The people love you."
The Leafeon choked on her tongue. Door. Bag. Run. She fumbled for her satchel, her paws shaking so hard she nearly dropped it.
Zephyr called across the set without even looking at her, adjusting his scarf in the reflection of a darkened monitor.
"Don't worry, Maple," he said, his tone light and mocking. "We'll circle to your cute little museum tale after the break. Promise. You're doing great so far."
She bolted from her chair before he even glanced her way. Her eyes blurred, chest tightened, and with her tail sunk between her legs, she vanished outside of the studio and into the starless night.
The challenging part about moving into an apartment was knowing where to look. Once the semester started, she could slip away to a campus dorm and live out the next five months in isolation.
But until then, she couldn't live at home. Not after tonight. Her dad would want her gone, out of the house, and probably out of his life.
And she couldn't blame him.
The handle gave a soundless click. Heated wood hugged her paws like distant memories, and the familiar scent of home wrapped around her until her chest went numb. She could pack and be out by midnight. She just had to move.
"You're quitting in a month? And you didn't think to tell me first, Apollo?"
Her mother's voice, sharp and bitter as always, slashed through the kitchen. Maple's ears pinned flat as her paws skimmed quieter across the floor, praying to slip by unnoticed.
"Hydra is gone, Talida," Apollo barked back. "And if I don't find him, I don't deserve to be the chief."
Maple tried to tune it out, to keep moving, but her ears lingered.
"You'd lose your house, your power, your status, all for a stupid case?" Talida's tail fin cut through the air like a blade. "Forget Hydra. We're better than that. I'm better than that. My husband is the chief of Galena Collis, and it's going to stay that way."
Another fight. Maple had grown used to them. The only times her parents weren't arguing over work, money, or her was when the pillow lulled her to sleep.
Apollo scoffed, turning away from the Vaporeon. "That's all you ever care about. Not me. Not our family. No one except yourself."
"You selfish asshole," Talida snapped, her claws unsheathing against glossy tiles. "Of course I care! You think Maple wants a failure father who stepped down as chief? She deserves someone powerful. Someone rich. She's a princess, Apollo—don't you dare ruin that for her."
A sour taste pooled on Maple's tongue. She froze halfway across the living room, heart thudding hard enough to bruise her ribs.
"You saw what happened tonight," Apollo shot back, his fangs flashing. "Maybe she'd be better off without the pressure. Without me as chief—"
His voice cut off the moment a lamp rattled from the nightstand. A streak of green bolted past him. Maple. Silent and running down the hall.
A quiet gasp escaped him. Talida, meanwhile, dropped into a chair and drowned the argument in silence, pouring her fury into the space between them like a bitter wine.
He took a breath, tail still, and left her alone.
. . .
Maple emptied her bag onto the bed and pressed her face into a pillow. Whatever chance she'd had of sneaking in and out unnoticed was shattered.
Her phone dinged—Kloud checking in, again—but she ignored it and rolled onto her side. Something white tucked beside the frame caught her eye.
Dad and I - Rocksprings Mountain
Her favorite picture. A tiny Eevee beside a towering Delcatty, both staring up at a Rotom camera from the peak. Her classmates scaled rock walls behind them, Skarmory swooping overhead with safety harnesses clinking.
The best fifth-grade field trip. Apollo had called off work so they could spend the entire day together, while Mom brought home food that wasn't from a frozen box.
"I'll take this, too," she murmured, slipping the photo into her satchel. Clothes could wait. Scarves could wait. Sentiment came first.
Knock. Knock.
And just like that, she froze. She hadn't even heard the footsteps. Hadn't seen the door through her tears. When the handle turned, panic rippled up her spine.
"Can I come in?" Apollo asked, his voice soft.
His silhouette hovered in the doorway, shaped by the hallway shadows and the flicker of her candles. Maple bit her tongue, tail drooping, and gave the smallest nod.
The door clicked shut.
"Maple, I just wanted to say—"
"Save it." The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. "You don't have to say it, Dad. I'm terrible. I'm worthless. And I destroyed everything. I know it already."
"Maple, that's not—"
"And I ruined your work, ruined your life, and I should just leave. Forever. Because that's..." A sniffle cracked her voice. "That's what I deserve. I'm the worst, most pathetic daughter in the world."
Fresh tears streamed. Her leaf drooped in front of her nose, tail tucked tight. Her tiny caramel paws shook so hard they almost folded in on themselves.
"S-so that's what I'll do," she continued, her words choking out. "You won't have to deal with me messing up your life ever again. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so—"
Apollo moved before she could finish. Stride after stride, quiet as moonlight, until he reached the Leafeon. His purple mane brushed the candle's glow as he lowered himself to her height, brushing their noses together.
"Maple..." he whispered. He stayed there, waiting for her chest to settle. For her breath to warm instead of shake.
His paw lifted, stroking down her shoulder.
"Maple. I'm not mad at you."
The words made her heart race. Her next tear barely formed before melting away.
"And I'm sorry," he added. "This isn't your fault."
She shook her head, pulling back. "It is my fault, Dad. It's all my fault. I was selfish, and I got so upset because—"
"Because I wouldn't let you shine," he interrupted, finishing for her. He eased back onto his haunches, his tail curling around his legs.
The room stilled. Maple stared, her satchel sliding from her shoulder and hitting the floor without a sound.
"All you wanted," Apollo said, his eyes lowering, "was for me to listen. To see your hard work, to see the brave young lady you were becoming." He exhaled. "But I never did. I only saw my little girl. And you are so, so much more than that."
Their eyes locked. Candlelight wavered between them, painting the walls in golden streaks.
"I don't..." Maple sagged. "I don't blame you, Dad. Every time I try doing something on my own, I hurt people. I hurt you. I hurt our family. I've always been a failure."
"You're not a failure." Apollo shook his head, firm and gentle. "You didn't fail at the museum. Despite what I said, you went in there and helped so many pokémon. You were brave. Strong. The bravest girl in the whole region."
Maple winced. "The museum..." Her head ducked low. "And look where that got me. Two interviews, and humiliating you all because I couldn't keep my stupid, selfish mouth—"
A paw pressed lightly to her lips.
"Stop," Apollo whispered. "I should never have written you out of the report in the first place. You had every right to be angry. I lied about you. I hurt you. And that was wrong." His eyes softened. "I'm so proud of you, Maple. More than you know. And you should be proud of you, too."
A long pause. Maple stepped closer, her caramel-brown eyes blinking like bags of silk.
"Then... why?" she murmured. "If you were proud of me, why did you write me out of the story? I don't understand."
Apollo exhaled, scrunching his nose together.
"Because, Maple," he said. "I was afraid."
Five simple words, heavy as boulders and held back for far too long. He brushed his tail along her back, drawing her closer.
"Not a day goes by that I don't worry about you. My job. Criminals. The enemies I've made. They'd love nothing more than to tear me down, to break me, to put a target on anything I love."
He leaned closer until their muzzles touched. "And I kept thinking. If they ever got through me—if I cracked—who would they come for next?"
Maple stilled. They locked gazes, long and quiet, the kind of silence that spoke more than words ever could.
"That's why I hid you," Apollo murmured. "Why I pushed you out of the spotlight. Erased your name. Kept you invisible. I thought I was shielding you from them..."
He shook his head, guilty.
"But all I ever did was hurt you."
"Dad..." Maple's voice cracked, jaw stretching open.
Another tear slid from her cheek and hit his chest, soaking into purple fur. She pressed into him, burying herself deep, like she could hide inside his warmth forever. And for a moment, the weight of the world melted like all those years ago.
Back to the good days.
Eventually, Maple pulled back with a trembling sniffle, wiping her face with the back of a paw.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered.
Apollo cupped her cheeks between his paws and kissed the top of her head, right between her leaves.
"And I'm sorry, too." He brushed away the next tear before it could fall. "You don't need to prove anything to those reporters. Or to me. You're enough, Maple. You've always been enough. And I finally see that now."
A tiny laugh escaped the Leafeon, somewhere between a sob and relief. "So... how do we fix that interview?"
"We don't," Apollo said simply. "And we don't need to. These things blow over. Trust me—I've been through far, far worse."
"Really?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." He flicked her tail with a teasing nudge. "The only thing that matters is you. You've got a kind, bright soul, always wanting to help others. Don't let anyone twist that. Make it your strength, not your weakness."
"I will, Dad."
The Delcatty smiled—a real, genuine one. The first time all night. He pulled her close, burying her in his neck, and wrapped her in warm fur and a heartbeat that finally felt steady.
"We'll get through this," he murmured. "Together this time."
And for once, Maple believed him.
