Ever’s lips flatten even as Nyx nudges him again. “He does not like many people.”

Neither did my father’s horse back in Gravale, but I still managed to make old Domino my friend. I stretch out my hand toward Nyx’s nose. From over Ever’s shoulder, the unicorn bumps my fingers with his muzzle. Ever’s eyes widen as I dare to close the distance even more. Nyx sniffs my hair then nods as if he approves.

Probably because I smell like apple pie.

I can’t help my smile as I pat his stiff mane more confidently. “I knew you were a good boy. So beautiful, aren’t you?”

Nyx snorts happily, letting me pet him like I used to pet old Domino.

“I can be a good boy too,” Maddox murmurs under his breath.

I bite my lip to keep from giggling.

“How would you like to explore the bottom of the canyon?” Ever snaps.

Maddox raises his hands in surrender, but his cheeky grin remains.

Gryffin doesn’t look up from the fire.

Nyx swings his head back toward the sparse patch of grass where the other two unicorns tear at the vegetation with their teeth. Is there any good grass here for them? Imagine the grazing they could do in the field behind the cottage.

Ever gestures back toward the blankets. “Come. I made you a seat.”

“I can see that. Thank you.”

Ever folds himself next to me, sitting a little closer than necessary. The other two seem content to speak quietly in front of the fire. Every once in a while, the wind changes direction, blowing smoke toward the blankets. It takes all my effort to keep my breathing steady even as my eyes burn.

When Ever shifts, the dagger at his hip bumps against mine. Maddox and Gryffin seem to have similar weapons on their belts.

“Do you all have the same daggers?”

Ever leans back on his hands and stretches his endless legs in front of him with a shake of his head. “Younglings are given daggers of elk antlers. You only receive a wolf’s bone dagger when you have killed one.”

“All of you have killed wolves?” To think, I’ve lived my whole life protected from the harsh reality of their world.

They nod.

“How young were you when you first killed?”

Maddox puffs up his chest. “I slayed a squirrel on my third birthday.”

The soft scent of pine and leather tickles my nose when Ever leans closer. “Maddox lies.”

“I do not.”

Gryffin shakes his head. “You were five, same as the rest of us.”

“I was three,” Maddox insists.

The two of them squabble like an old married couple while Ever watches silently. Always watching. Always alert. “As Gryffin said, we were five when we were allowed to hunt in the small forest near camp, but we are taught to defend ourselves as soon as we can walk.”