Once clean, he set to work on clothes. Mana weaving — fast, precise, guided by the image of what two little girls should be wearing instead of rags. He made dresses — warm, fitted, practical. Kana's in pale blue to match her silver colouring. Hana's in soft lavender. Warm underclothes. Thick coats for the grassland wind. And boots — dragon leather mana-woven together, lined with soft material, sized to their tiny feet.
Kana put hers on and did a twirl. Her silver tail swished behind her and her ears were straight up — pure, uncomplicated joy.
Hana stood still while looking down at Yuki as he adjusted her boots. Then she looked down at her new outfit — the lavender dress, the warm coat — and her dark eyes went wide. Not happy, exactly. More like disbelief. Like she'd forgotten that good things could happen.
"Do you like them?"
Kana nodded vigorously. Hana nodded once. Small. But real.
Good enough.
The caravan was about an hour's walk south. Yuki set off with the girls, one on each side.
They were fast. Beastkin blood — even at five or six years old, they moved with a quick, light-footed energy that surprised him. Kana darted ahead, circled back, darted ahead again. Even Hana kept pace without struggling, her new boots quiet on the grass.
After thirty minutes, the energy faded. Kana's steps slowed. Hana was lagging, her earlier healing and meal not enough to undo days of captivity and exhaustion.
"I can get us there faster," Yuki said. "If you trust me."
Kana looked at him. Then at Hana. Uncertain.
Seeing their doubt - "Here." Yuki pulled a dagger from dimensional storage — small, light, sheathed in a leather holder. He knelt and strapped it to Kana's waist with a thin belt. "You can use this to protect Hana, okay? You're her big sister. That's your job."
Kana looked at the dagger. Touched the handle. Her amber eyes went bright with something fierce and proud. She drew it an inch, inspected the blade, and slid it back with a click.
"I'll protect her," she said. Dead serious. Five years old and ready to fight the world.
Hana watched the exchange. She looked at the dagger on Kana's belt. Then she looked up at Yuki.
Her dark eyes were enormous. Her black ears drooped slowly downward. Her lower lip trembled — just slightly.
The puppy-dog eyes hit him like a sledgehammer to the sternum.
Critical hit. Fatal damage. No defence possible.
"You can have one too," he said immediately. "When we get to camp."
Hana's ears shot straight up. She didn't smile — not quite — but her tail unwound from her body and gave a single, tentative wag.
Yuki picked them up. One in each arm. They were impossibly light — small and warm, fitting against his chest like they were made to be carried. Kana grabbed his jacket. Hana grabbed his shirt. Both grips were tight.
He cast flight and lifted off.
Kana gasped. Her arms locked around his neck. Hana buried her face in his chest.
"It's okay. I've got you. Just hold on."
They rose above the grassland. The wind caught Kana's silver hair and she made a sound that was half scream, half laugh. Hana peeked out from his chest, saw the ground falling away, and buried her face again.
He flew low and slow. No need to rush. The caravan's campfires were visible ahead — a cluster of light on the darkening plain.
As he descended, he spotted Lira.
She was standing at the camp's edge, bow in hand, scanning the grassland. Waiting. Looking for him — because he'd been gone for hours without telling her where he was going, which in hindsight was exactly the kind of thing that would make her worry.
She saw him coming. Lowered the bow. Squinted.
Then she saw what he was carrying.
Even from the air, he could see her expression shift. Surprise. Confusion. And then — exactly as he'd predicted — the eye roll. A full, complete, of course you did eye roll that he felt from fifty metres up.
He landed in front of her. Set the girls down gently.
Kana looked up at Lira. Hana hid behind Kana.
"Lira," Yuki said. "This is Kana. And this is Hana. They're—"
"Fox beastkin. Sisters. About five and six. Clearly rescued from something terrible based on the healing traces I can sense from the necklace." Lira cut him off, but her voice wasn't sharp. She was already moving — lowering herself, dropping to her knees, bringing her eyes level with Kana's.
"Hi there," Lira said. Soft. Warm. A voice Yuki hadn't heard her use before. "I'm Lira. Are you two okay?"
Kana studied her. The amber eyes did their evaluation — the same careful assessment she'd given Yuki in the pit. Then her ears relaxed.
"Yuki saved us," Kana said. "He killed all the monsters and gave us food and made us clothes."
"He does that often," Lira said. She smiled. "Are you hungry? We have more stew."
"Yes, please."
Lira stood and took Kana's hand. Naturally. Like she'd done it a thousand times. She looked at Hana, who was still hiding behind her sister.
"And you must be Hana. That's a very pretty dress."
Hana peeked out. Looked at Lira. Looked at the hand Lira was offering.
She took it.
Lira walked both girls toward the campfire, one hand each, already asking Kana about her favorite foods and whether she liked her boots and if she wanted seconds or thirds of stew.
Yuki stood at the camp's edge and watched them go.
He'd expected Lira to be surprised. Maybe annoyed. Maybe overwhelmed by the sudden arrival of two traumatised children.
Instead, she'd dropped to her knees, matched their eye level, spoken in a voice made of warmth, and taken their hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She's going to be an amazing mother someday.
The thought arrived uninvited and hit him so hard he had to look away.
He took a breath. Pulled a second small dagger from storage — Hana's, as promised — and walked toward the fire.