Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

Ren stayed through the rain.

It began while Shen was cutting dried riverleaf at the worktable, a soft tapping against the stone outside that Nia barely noticed until Kael came through the entrance with damp shoulders.

Nia looked up from the bowl in her hands.

Kael had gone down to the lower route board after the midday meal. He returned carrying two narrow wooden markers beneath one arm, his black hair darkened along the loose strands near his temples. Rain had caught the upper part of his sleeveless tunic and left scattered wet marks across his chest.

Nia set the bowl down.

“You're wet.”

“Only from the upper turn. It started before I reached the lower path.”

She crossed the room and kissed him before taking one of the markers from beneath his arm.

His free hand settled automatically at her waist.

Nia tasted rain on his mouth.

Behind them, Ren said, “I see the inspection process here is thorough.”

Kael's thumb moved once against Nia's side before he released her. His attention shifted to the low table near the fire, where Ren's narrow travel bag rested against one leg.

“You came back.”

“I was invited.”

This time Ren had brought the bag. Nia had laughed when she saw it earlier, especially after he informed her that visiting someone personally did not require abandoning everything he might need on the road.

He had taken one thing from it: a small twist of dried blue flowers from a roadside settlement because the color reminded him of the shell bracelet.

Nia had put them in a narrow clay cup with water near the edge of the worktable.

Kael set both route markers against the wall and looked toward the entrance as the rain strengthened.

“Wait until it passes. The lower path gets slick first, and the turn below the trade shelter drains slowly.”

Ren glanced outside. “I have endured rain before.”

“I know. I'm telling you about the path.”

Kael went to change his damp tunic.

Ren watched him disappear toward the sleeping area. “Your chief is very welcoming.”

“He told you to stay,” Nia said.

Shen gathered the cut riverleaf onto a shallow tray. “Kael considers avoidable injuries irritating. If you slip badly enough, someone will have to carry you back up.”

Ren looked toward the entrance.

The rain struck harder against the stone.

He settled farther into his seat.

Nia returned to the bowl she had abandoned. She was mixing a thick grain batter with chopped greens and the last of a soft white cheese they had opened the previous day. The rain had cooled the cave enough that something hot from the pan sounded better than the lighter meal she had planned.

Shen pushed the riverleaf tray farther from the damp air drifting through the entrance. Then he came to Nia's side and watched batter fall from the spoon.

“More flour. Not much.”

Nia reached toward the jar.

Shen was closer. He measured some into a cup and tipped part of it into the bowl. Nia stirred, lifted the spoon, and watched the batter slide back more slowly.

Shen added the rest.

“You were going to trust that first mixture.”

Nia gave him a flat look. “You seem very pleased with yourself for adding flour.”

“I am.”

She caught the front of his tunic and pulled him down.

Shen smiled just before she kissed him.

His fingers rested lightly against her wrist until she released him.

“Now you're pleased with yourself for two reasons,” Nia said.

“Three, but you don't need the list.”

She laughed and returned to the bowl.

Ren turned one of the blue flowers between his fingers where the stem leaned over the rim of the cup. He let it go when Shen passed him on the way back to the riverleaf.

Kael returned in a dry dark tunic with a cloth over one shoulder.

He stopped beside Nia and looked into the bowl.

“Shen got to it first.”

“Everybody has opinions today.” Nia handed him the spoon. “You might as well have yours.”

Kael stirred once and checked the thickness before returning it.

“Cook it.”

“That is the correct opinion.”

Ren laughed quietly.

The rain filled the entrance with a steady rush.

Outside, the nearest path blurred beneath falling water. A household male ran past with a folded hide held over his head, slipped at the turn, and recovered with an awkward swing of both arms.

Kael saw him.

His jaw tightened.

“He tied that sandal badly three days ago too.”

Nia stared at him.

“It matters if he keeps doing it on wet stone.”

Ren laughed.

Shen carried the oil over and set it beside Nia's elbow.

She poured a small amount into the heated pan.

The first spoonful of batter hissed.

Nia cooked while Shen cleared the riverleaf scraps and folded the cloth beneath them. Kael sat with the two route markers and scraped mud from their lower ends with a flat tool.

Ren remained near the fire.

Shen passed behind Nia and rested a hand at her hip while reaching for the salt on the shelf beyond her. He placed it beside her elbow and continued toward the water vessel.

Nia added a pinch.

Kael finished cleaning one marker and held out his hand. Shen returned with water, exchanged the dirty cloth for a clean one, and left Kael to finish the second.

Nia turned the first cake.

The underside had browned more heavily along one edge.

“Fire's stronger on the left,” Kael said.

She shifted the pan.

Shen put Nia's cup where she could reach it without moving away from the fire. She drank between turning the second cake and spooning in the third.

Ren pointed toward the marker in Kael's hands. “West split?”

Kael nodded. “One cracked. The other softened where the lower binding stayed wet too long.”

“Same fiber on the replacement?”

“Tighter braid.”

Ren nodded and reached for the stack of empty cups instead. “Where do these go?”

Shen pointed toward the lower shelf beside the water vessel.

Ren carried them over.

When he returned, Shen stopped beside his seat.

“You're in my usual place.”

Ren shifted enough for Shen to sit comfortably beside him. “You should mark your territory more clearly.”

“I thought living here was enough.”

Their shoulders nearly touched when Shen settled.

Nia carried the first finished cakes to the table.

Ren moved his boot before she reached him, clearing the space for the tray.

She returned to the pan.

Kael finished the second marker and leaned both against the wall.

When the last cake came out, Kael took the tray and divided the food between plates. Shen brought the sour sauce and fresh water. Ren carried the cups back to the table and put one near each place.

Nia sat beside Kael. He shifted his knee before she lowered herself, and she leaned briefly against his shoulder while reaching for her cup.

Across from her, Ren looked down at the cup he had placed near Shen.

Shen had already taken it.

Nia reached across and stole half of the cake Shen had opened to cool.

Shen looked at what remained in his fingers. “I knew that was going to happen.”

“You still let me do it.”

“I wanted to know if you'd take yours first.”

Nia bit into his half.

Shen took one of hers in exchange and tore off a piece.

Kael passed Nia the sour sauce before reaching for his own food. She poured some over her cake and handed the bowl back.

Ren accepted it when Kael sent it across the table.

The browned outside of the cake cracked softly beneath his fingers. Steam rose from the middle.

He tasted it, then took another bite.

Nia waited.

Ren noticed. “You are staring at me as though the correct answer determines whether I eat the rest.”

“It might.”

He took another deliberate bite. “Then I need more evidence.”

Nia laughed and started eating.

The sauce bowl made another trip around the table. Shen reached for it just as Ren finished with it.

Ren put it directly into his hand.

“Thank you.”

Ren picked up his cup.

Kael began telling Shen about the man who had nearly fallen outside. Apparently the loose sandal was not his first poor decision on a wet path.

Ren listened through two examples before setting his cup down. “How many people's walking habits do you keep in your head?”

“Only the ones likely to hurt themselves or someone else.”

Nia snorted.

Kael looked at her. “They keep proving me right.”

Shen knew another example involving a hunter who had once tried to carry three wrapped loads down a slope because he did not want to make a second trip.

“He could see over them,” Kael said.

“He could see above them,” Shen corrected. “His feet were another matter.”

Ren started to defend the hunter's ability to judge familiar ground from memory.

Nia pointed toward the entrance. “You can demonstrate after the rain.”

Ren considered the water outside and abandoned the hunter.

The conversation moved on.

By the time their plates were empty, the rain had softened to a steady patter.

Nia began gathering the dishes.

Kael took the stack from her hands. “I've got them.”

She caught his arm before he turned away and kissed him.

Kael accepted it without surprise, balancing the plates in one hand while the other rested against her back.

When Nia started to pull away, he kissed her again.

She smiled against his mouth.

Shen continued drinking from his cup.

Nia looked at him when she returned to the table.

His pale eyes met hers over the rim.

She laughed. “You're doing it again.”

“I haven't moved.”

“You don't need to.”

Shen set his cup aside as she approached. “That sounds like progress.”

Nia bent and kissed him.

His hands settled at her waist, and the kiss lingered until she straightened.

Ren moved his legs aside when she passed between his seat and the table.

Kael returned with the washed plates and glanced toward the entrance.

“Give the path a little longer.”

Ren looked outside, then leaned back against the stone. “I'm beginning to suspect the weather is working for you.”

Kael ignored that and returned the plates to their shelf.

The afternoon settled into quieter work.

Shen brought the riverleaf tray back to the table and began separating the cut pieces by condition. Kael tightened the binding at the top of one route marker. Nia folded one leg beneath herself and started repairing a loose seam on a storage cloth.

Ren picked up his cup, found it empty, and refilled it himself.

After a while he reached toward the riverleaf.

Shen tapped the back of his hand.

Ren withdrew it and waited.

Shen finished the piece he was holding. “Whole edges together. Splits in the second pile. Anything with dark spotting stays separate.”

Ren drew a small portion of the unsorted leaves toward himself.

The first piece received the same scrutiny he might have given a seller's sample.

Shen watched him turn it over.

“You are grading it.”

“Habit.”

“The leaf doesn't care what you'd pay.”

Ren placed it into the whole-edge pile. The next piece received a quicker glance.

Nia bent over her seam, smiling.

A few pieces later, Ren's hands settled into the same simple rhythm as Shen's: lift, check the edge, sort, reach again.

Kael finished the marker binding and tested it with both hands.

Rainwater continued dripping beyond the entrance, but the room had warmed again from the fire.

Shen pushed more of the unsorted tray between himself and Ren.

They worked without talking for a while.

Nia finished one side of the loose seam and turned the cloth.

When she next looked up, Shen was holding out a riverleaf piece to Ren.

“Split.”

Ren leaned closer.

A narrow break ran along one edge.

“That little?”

“It will widen when handled.”

Ren took the piece and moved it to the other pile.

The next one went beneath his fingers before Shen returned to his own sorting.

By the time the rain stopped, only a small portion of the tray remained.

Kael went to the entrance and looked down the path.

“The main stone is clearing.”

Ren finished the piece in his hand before standing. “Then I should leave before you discover another hazard.”

“There are always more hazards.”

“I believe you.”

Ren stretched and picked up his travel bag.

The sharp crease in his coat had softened from sitting so long, and one side of his dark-red hair had loosened near his ear.

Nia looked at the bag.

Ren caught her doing it and touched the strap. “I carried this all the way here for flowers and moral support.”

“The flowers were useful.”

“Then I planned well.”

Shen began gathering the sorted riverleaf into separate cloths.

Ren reached down and moved one last piece from the unsorted section into the whole-edge pile.

Shen picked it up, checked it, and put it back where Ren had placed it.

Ren straightened.

“I'll accept that as praise.”

Shen tied the first cloth. “It wasn't wrong.”

“High praise.”

Nia laughed.

Kael stepped outside to check the lower turn.

Nia walked Ren to the entrance.

The air smelled wet and cool. Water dripped from the upper stone, and the nearest plants bowed beneath the weight of the rain.

Ren stopped under the last stretch of shelter and adjusted the strap of his bag.

Behind them, Shen asked where Kael had put the clean binding cord.

“Second shelf,” Kael called from outside. “Left side.”

Shen found it.

Ren glanced into the cave, then touched one of the loose strands near his ear.

“I'll come on a dry day next time.”

“You'll find another excuse if it rains.”

“I have learned there are worse places to be trapped.”

Nia touched his wrist.

“You can come whether it rains or not.”

Ren turned his hand beneath hers and squeezed her fingers once.

“I'll remember that.”

He released her and stepped onto the damp path.

Nia stayed at the entrance until he passed the first turn.

Then Shen called her back to the table to hold one end of the binding cord while he tightened the other around a folded bundle of riverleaf.

Kael returned a moment later with wet soles and reported that the lower turn was clear enough for walking.

Nia finished the knot with Shen, moved her storage cloth away from Kael's damp feet, and went back to the seam she had left half repaired.