Chapter 35 – Feeling Home
For a second, the world feels too bright. After the dim heat and stink inside, the sunlight hits like a blow. Dust hangs gold in the air. Somewhere farther down the street, a cart rattles over stone, voices drift and life goes on like nothing in that tent ever mattered.
Perri clings to me for one step too long before I lower her carefully to the ground. The moment her feet touch the dust, she sways, then steadies herself on my arm like she doesn’t quite trust gravity yet. Her wide eyes flick between me, Kit, and Raka, silver ears twitching hard enough to blur. She’s still shaking. Not from fear. Not only that, anyway. The bond is settling, but it still runs hot through all of us, and what pours off her is almost dizzying—joy, wonder, relief, all of it sharp enough to feel disorienting.
I look down at her and try for something gentler, something that doesn’t feel like my chest is still split open from the choice I just made. “For now,” I say, my voice softening, “ready for some food, Perri?”
Her answer comes too fast, too small, too hungry. “Y-yes. Please. I… I haven’t…” The words catch and die there, but the bond carries the rest for her.
Hunger.
Days of it. Maybe longer.
Kit feels it first and goes still. Then she takes one of Perri’s tiny hands, squeezing gently. Raka lays a warm, heavy palm against the middle of her back.
“Then let’s feed our little one,” she murmurs.
Perri looks up at that, startled by the phrase more than the touch.
Little one.
Something softer.
Something claimed in the right way.
We start walking. Perri stays close enough that the edge of her sleeve brushes mine with every other step. Kit moves on one side of her, all sly warmth now, while Raka takes the other like she’s daring the street itself to misbehave.
Ahead of us, the Feisty Dwarf glows like a promise.
Warm light spills through the windows. Laughter rolls out every time the door opens, and somewhere inside, a Half-drunken Dwarven Bard is hammering out something lively and on a dulcimer, even though it’s still only late afternoon.
Perri slows just enough to stare. Then the smell hits—roasting meat, fresh bread, ale, butter, spice.
Home, if home had a doorway.
I glance down. She’s looking at the inn like it might vanish if she blinks, and through the bond, beneath the wonder and the nerves and the aftershock of freedom, I feel it: disbelief.
Perri looks up at me just as I pull the door open, eyes huge, cheeks still pink from crying and sunlight and shock.
And for the first time since we left that tent, the smile that pulls at my mouth comes easily.
“Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s show you what freedom tastes like.”
Hearthfire glows gold across dark beams and crowded tables, and ale flows dark and foamy beneath the warm roar of late-afternoon noise. Somewhere inside, the Half-drunken Dwarven Bard shifts into a jaunty tune on his dulcimer as we make for our usual booth, still the perfect size. Before I can even think about where everyone’s sitting, Perri folds herself in close beside me like distance is still something she doesn’t trust.
The scent of roasting boar and spiced root stew hits hard enough to make my stomach remember it exists. Beside me, Perri sits stunned, fingers gone tight around my arm, wide jade-green eyes sweeping over the room as if she’s stepped into some hero’s hall from a story instead of a tavern full of adventurers, merchants, and dwarves loud enough to wake the dead. She’s trembling again, but not from fear this time.
Overwhelm.
Raka notices first. Then Kit.
“Stay close, little rabbit,” Raka says, voice low and warm as one broad, clawed hand settles over Perri’s. The touch is so large, so powerful, and so carefully protective that it grounds her almost immediately. I feel it through the bond too, the steady reassurance rolling off Raka like she’s taken up a quiet guard between us and the world.
Kit leans in from the other side and flicks one of Perri’s long ears.
That earns a tiny squeak, then a shy, startled smile.
People stare, of course they do. A tall half-giant with three girls in his booth, one of them still looking at the world itself like it might be too much to believe. Let them stare.
I’m more interested in the serving girl who catches my eye when I lift a gold coin between two fingers. The same Busty Barmaid from before flushes bright red, scans the table, spots Perri, and pivots too fast toward the kitchen. Kit catches it instantly. Her smirk turns playful. I shrug like I have no idea what she means, which only makes her grin wider.
A moment later the barmaid returns with a full armload of plates, and a second follows behind her. Then a third. By the time they’re done, the table is practically groaning under the weight of it: honey-glazed boar ribs, steaming bowls of root stew, thick slices of bread slathered with butter, roasted carrots and onions glazed in herbs, and mugs of amber ale with a faint smell of spiced apples curling off the foam.
Perri just stares.
She doesn’t move. Her little nose twitches once. Twice.
Then, in a voice so soft I almost miss it, she whispers, “I… I can have this?”
Kit melts first. Completely. Without hesitation, she slides the biggest rib from the platter onto Perri’s plate.
“Eat, sweet ears,” she says. “Eat until you can’t move.”
Raka tears into one of her own ribs with a low growl, then glances sideways at Perri with a sharp-toothed smirk.
“If you wait too long,” she says, “I’ll eat yours for you.”
Perri squeaks, grabs the rib in both hands, and bites in like it might disappear if she doesn’t do it now. The sound she makes is half whimper, half moan. Whatever her preferences might be, right now it’s pure bliss.
Kit giggles into her mug. Even Raka chuckles, deep and low, like distant thunder rolling over stone.
I lean back a little, one arm draped along the bench behind Perri, and watch. She’s trying to eat too fast, eyes huge every time she swallows, like she still expects someone to snatch the plate away. No one does. Kit keeps sneaking extra onto Perri’s plate. Raka keeps pretending not to notice while guarding the biggest cuts like they’re part of some sacred rite.
And somewhere between Perri’s third bite and the way she keeps glancing up at us like she still can’t believe she’s allowed to be here, the truth settles in fully.
We really did it.
We went looking for a healer to help us survive the Briar Witch.
And came back with a level one bunny girl who’s going to need Slime Meadows, Kobold Cavern, and half the gods’ patience before she’s anywhere near ready for what’s waiting in those ruins.
I exhale through my nose.
What have I done?
Kit catches the look on my face immediately. Her tail curls loosely around one ankle as she leans back and studies me over the rim of her mug.
“What?” she asks, already knowing.
I glance between the three of them, then narrow my focus to Kit and Raka through the bond. Perri can’t hear us yet. Not like this.
“She’s small,” I murmur. “She needs so much work.”
Kit’s mouth twitches. Raka snorts into her drink.
I shake my head once, looking down at Perri as she carefully tears off another bite of rib like this might still all be a dream.
“But we’d save her,” I say quietly. “And we’d hold her from day one.”
Kit’s expression softens, a flicker of old memory brushing through the bond. A soft laugh slips out of her as she leans her chin into one hand.
“Sounds like you already know, Master,” she says. “Saving someone lights you up inside.”
Her eyes flick to Perri, then back to me.
“And yeah… every slime, every kobold? That’s time in the wild with your girls.”
Her smile turns gentler.
“Perri means slow steps,” she says. “But sweet ones.”
The weight of the choice settles heavy in me.
“The Elf would’ve been easier,” I admit.
Raka sets her mug down.
“She would’ve,” she says.
Her golden eyes flick to Perri, then back to me.
“But she didn’t need us.”
There it is again. Clean. Simple. Impossible to argue with.
Kit follows immediately, voice softer now.
“Perri is the rescue we promised ourselves.”
I look at Perri, small and bright-eyed and trying not to look overwhelmed by the bits and pieces of the conversation passing around her.
So I say the next part out loud for her, lighter than I feel.
“We went looking for a healer to help with the Briar Witch,” I say. “Instead, we came back with a level one bunny girl who needs to wrestle with deadly Blue Bubble Slimes…” I rub a hand over my face. “Again.”
Perri blinks between us, one small hand still wrapped around a piece of buttered bread like it might be holy.
“Wait… what?” she says slowly. “That sounds bad.”
Kit loses it first.
A laugh bursts out of her so fast she nearly chokes on her ale. Raka’s grin flashes sharp and bright beside her.
“Oh, it’s terrible,” Kit says, still laughing. “Deadly. Horrific. Unspeakable suffering.”
“The Blue Bubble Slimes,” Raka rumbles, like she’s naming an ancient curse.
Perri looks from one of us to the next, clearly trying to figure out whether she should be afraid or offended.
“…Why are you all smiling?”
That gets me too.
I laugh, softer than the others, and shake my head. “You’ll understand later.”
She narrows her eyes just a little, suspicious now.
“She’s learning,” Kit says.
“She’ll need to,” I murmur.
Perri’s ears dip for a second, and I catch it.
So do Kit and Raka.
I lower my voice.
“Hey.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
“We see the strength in you,” I say. “Soon, we’ll help build you up stronger.”
“You’d really…” Her voice is small. “You’re really going to make me strong, like all of you?”
Kit blinks like the answer is so obvious she almost laughs.
“Obviously.”
Raka folds her arms, all blunt certainty and quiet pride.
“That’s what pack does.”
Perri looks down so fast I almost miss the way her mouth trembles. When she looks up again, her eyes are bright.
Not nervous this time.
Something warmer.
Something determined.
And beside me, with stew on her spoon and a growing smile on her face, Perri looks a little less like a girl we pulled out of a cage…
and a little more like someone who might actually survive what comes next.
A few minutes later, while Perri is still trying to recover from that, I lean back and let the HUD bloom open in the corner of my vision.
Blue light flickers softly across the edge of the table.
Kit catches it first, of course.
“There he goes,” she says. “Back in his natural habitat.”
I ignore her.
Mostly.
The Party Management tab pulses once in my HUD.
[Bonded Companion: Perri]
Status: Unassigned
Tier 1
Level: 1
There it is.
I exhale through my nose.
“Right,” I mutter. “Let’s get you added properly.”
Perri looks up from her bread.
“I felt… something warm just now.”
“Good,” Kit says. “That means the weird part’s working.”
Raka snorts.
My fingers move through the hovering runes.
“Light Priest,” I say.
The glyph shifts instantly, then locks into place with a soft, satisfying chime. Golden light spills across the interface, cascading down her name in a warm pulse.
Class Assigned: LIGHT PRIEST
Core Role: Healer | Support
Subclass: Not Selected (Requires Level 15)
Weapon Affinity: Staff / Light Magic
Armor: Light Cloth
The HUD pulses once more.
Perri blinks at me, then at Kit, then at Raka, like she’s trying to understand why the table suddenly feels brighter.
“What… what just happened?”
Kit raises her mug.
“You just got added to the party, Perri.”
Raka leans on one elbow, grin slow and toothy.
“Means you’re not just bonded,” she says. “You’re part of the hunting pack.”
The bond hums warm at the back of my mind—Perri’s awe, relief, and something that still feels too big for her to hold all at once.
The meal stretches on after that, slow and soft, until it feels less like eating at a tavern and more like camping in our booth. Perri licks a smear of honey from her fingers, then immediately looks embarrassed about it. Kit pretends not to notice. Raka absolutely notices and says nothing, which is its own kind of mercy.
I lean back with a thoughtful hum.
“Girls…”
Three sets of eyes lift to me.
“What if we stop living like transients in cramped rooms?”
Kit blinks. Raka’s ears twitch. Perri just stares.
“We’re going to be here a while,” I say. “Leveling Perri. Slimes. Kobolds. Probably more than I want to think about.”
Kit’s mouth curves. Raka’s grin flashes.
“So maybe…” I continue, “we stop pretending this is temporary.”
Perri’s ears lift slowly.
“Maybe we get an apartment.”
Kit leans back with immediate approval. “So… no more squeaky tavern beds? I like this plan already.”
Raka bares her teeth in a pleased, wolfish grin. “More room to stretch,” she says. Then her eyes flick to me, slow and heated. “And hunt.”
That earns her a look.
She enjoys it.
Across from us, Perri’s expression goes soft and stunned all over again.
“A‑apartment?” she whispers. “Like… a home?”
The bond catches the word the moment it leaves her. Not just hope.
Yearning.
Old and careful and deep enough to ache.
I nod. “A home.”
Nothing fancy.
Nothing dramatic.
Just ours.
And just like that, all three of them go quiet.
Glassy‑eyed.
Struck still.
I hadn’t realized how much that word meant to them.
Now I do.
And now that I do… they’ll have it.
As the night grows late, the fire crackles low in the hearth, throwing warm gold across the table and softening the edges of everything. Around us, the Feisty Dwarf has finally begun to quiet. The laughter has thinned, the clatter of mugs gone gentler, and somewhere near the bar the Half-drunken Dwarven Bard has traded his jaunty tune for something softer now, almost nostalgic. The kind of melody meant for travelers too far from home to say it out loud.
Perri sits tucked between Kit and Raka, both hands wrapped around her mug as she sips the last of it slowly.
“I thought…” she says at last, so quietly I almost miss it. “I thought I’d never feel this warm again.”
Her fingers tighten around the mug.
“Not just here,” she adds, lifting one hand from the cup to touch her chest. “In here.”
The bond answers with it the moment she says it. I feel the truth of her words roll through all of us at once, loneliness loosening its grip, fear giving ground to something softer.
Perri looks up at me with soft tired eyes.
I hold her gaze for a second, then glance toward the stairs.
“Come on,” I say, quiet now. “Let’s get upstairs.”
She nods, small and gratefully, and rises with the others to our room.
Later in our room, the bath water still steams faintly as Perri pads out from the back room, fur brushed soft and clean, cheeks pink from warmth and ale. Raka grins, all teeth, when she sees the little bunny drowning in my oversized shirt, the hem brushing her knees.
Raka’s voice turns lilting with teasing. “Well, don’t you look edible.”
Perri’s ears flick back. “Wh-what?!”
Kit lets out a low laugh. “Relax, rabbit. She means cute.”
I’m already sprawled on the Harem Bed, the wolf-girl and cat-girl at my sides, the sheets rumpled from their lazy lounging, with a bunny-girl making her way toward me.
“Your choice, little rabbit,” I say, warmth in my voice and a faint smirk on my lips. “Bedroll… or pack.”
Perri hesitates only a moment before padding over barefoot on the wooden floor, clutching at the too-long sleeves of my oversized shirt. The bond hums like a heartbeat between all of us, growing stronger as she crawls carefully onto the bed, so small between Raka’s powerful frame and Kit’s slender grace.
When she finally settles, it’s on my chest, trust curling like a kitten against my warmth, the soft fur of her ears tickling my jaw. She sighs so deeply it sounds like the release of a lifetime of fear.
“Warm… safe… strong…” she whispers.
The Harem Bed buff ignites, washing over the bond like liquid comfort.
Kit shifts closer, her bare thigh sliding against mine, one hand sneaking across my stomach to rest on Raka’s hip. The wolfkin gives a low rumble of amusement and leans in too, pressing her nose to my neck with a breath that’s almost a kiss.
I chuckle softly, resting one arm protectively over Perri and the other curling around Kit’s waist. The room smells like soap, fur, and warmth, with something almost wicked underneath the playfulness.
Perri, oblivious or maybe just too blissed out to care, murmurs half-asleep, “Never… going back…” before dozing off against my heartbeat.
In time, the room falls into deep stillness. Perri’s tiny breaths puff softly against my chest. Raka snores gently with her head on my shoulder and one strong arm draped over all of us.
But Kit… Kit is awake.
Her eyes, luminous in the firelight, meet mine across the pillow. For a long moment, we just breathe together in silence, the Harem Bed bond humming, a shared heartbeat.
“Remember when it was just us?” I murmur.
Kit’s lips twitch into the faintest smile, her voice low and a little husky when she whispers back. “Yeah. Two misfits in a rented room, pretending we had a plan.”
I chuckle quietly, careful not to wake the others, my hand brushing a lock of silver hair from her cheek.
“Were you expecting… all this?”
Her eyes flick briefly to Perri, then to the sleeping wolfish bulk of Raka, then back to me, heat and something softer lingering in her gaze.
“Honestly? No,” she says with a small smile. “I thought maybe a few good nights, a little fun… then we’d die.”
I frown slightly. “Die?…”
She presses a fingertip to my lips, silencing me with that sly grin that still makes my heart skip.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “I know better now.”
Her hand slides down and catches mine.
“You made me believe in something bigger than surviving. You made me believe in us.”
For a long moment, I just stare at her, words tangled in my throat. Then I lean in, pressing my forehead against hers. Her whisper brushes my lips like a secret.
“So no, Master. I wasn’t expecting this… but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I let that sit between us for a moment, then say it quietly.
“I said in the beginning you were first. I meant it then, and I mean it now. First.”
Kit’s eyes widen slightly at the word. The weight of it sinks in, quiet and undeniable. Her teasing grin falters for a second, replaced by something raw enough to make her look almost shy.
She swallows, fingers curling lightly against my chest, her voice dropping low, almost trembling with that rare note of vulnerability.
“…You still mean that? After everything?”
I don’t hesitate. My hand slides up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing along her jaw as I hold her gaze.
“Always. No matter how big this family gets, no matter what comes next… you were my first. You’ll always be my first.”
For one long heartbeat, she just stares at me, lips parted, breath soft. Then the grin returns, smaller this time, warmer, like sunrise melting frost.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Because… I was starting to think you liked the wolf’s growl more than my purr.”
The teasing note in her voice can’t hide the way her bond flares like firelight through the dark, love, pride, and something fiercely possessive.
She leans forward and presses the softest kiss to my lips, then lets the whisper fall against my mouth before finally curling up against me, one arm draped protectively across my ribs.
“Sleep, Master. Tomorrow, we start teaching a bunny how to bite.”