Kaelen padded along the path to the long house, Rayne swaddled tightly against his chest. Her tiny head peeked out from the folds of the blanket, eyes wide and curious, but otherwise perfectly still. “See, Rayne?” he whispered, almost proudly. “We’re helping Mama. You behave, okay?”

In truth, Kaelen didn’t need an excuse to bring her. He was obsessed with her — fascinated by every little movement, every coo, every grasp of her tiny fingers. The egg, now long shattered, had faded from his mind, replaced entirely by the living, breathing sister he had sworn to protect.

Inside the long house, Elder Bran and the other children were already gathered. The room smelled faintly of herbs and polished wood. The elder looked up as Kaelen entered, holding the baby, and raised an eyebrow. “Kaelen,” he said carefully, “what is this? You cannot bring her here every day.”

“She’s helping me, Elder Bran,” Kaelen said, earnest and proud. “Mama said I should help. And Rayne… she behaves! She won’t be a bother!”

Bran’s gaze flicked down at the baby. Indeed, Rayne was quiet, unnaturally so for one of her age. She nestled against Kaelen, eyes half-closed, cooing only softly when Kaelen whispered to her. Even the elder’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Well… she is quiet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Perhaps too quiet.”

The other children whispered behind Kaelen’s back. Some were curious, some wary, but all of them noticed the baby’s unusual stillness. Whispers started to thread through the room, low and cautious. “She’s… strange,” one girl murmured. “Her hair… it’s turning dark, isn’t it?”

Another boy nodded, glancing at Kaelen with a mixture of awe and suspicion. “And those eyes… purple? That’s not normal.”

Kaelen stiffened but didn’t respond. He clutched Rayne a little closer, as if daring anyone to question her further. Draven, sitting on the far side of the room, noticed Kaelen’s tension and the whispered glances, but he stayed silent. Part of him understood — the valley was always suspicious of what they didn’t understand — but another part of him couldn’t help feeling a familiar tug of unease at how obsessed Kaelen was becoming.

Elder Bran cleared his throat and started the lesson, moving into the topic of shapeshifters. Kaelen’s attention wavered only slightly. He was too focused on Rayne, marveling at how still and perfect she seemed, how nothing in the world could touch her as long as he held her. Rayne cooed softly, her tiny hands brushing against Kaelen’s fingers.

Even Bran noticed. “Remarkable,” the elder muttered, almost aloud. “To sit through a lesson… and behave so well…” His gaze lingered on the baby longer than necessary, as though studying her in a way that made Kaelen’s chest tighten.

The other children tried to pay attention to the elder’s words, but their eyes kept drifting toward Kaelen and Rayne, toward the small bundle of life that seemed far too quiet, far too controlled, and far too different.

Kaelen felt it. The stares, the whispers, the suspicion. But he didn’t care. He would protect her. He would shield her from the valley, from the children, from everyone. The baby was his responsibility, and no one — not Elder Bran, not the other children, not even Draven — would take that from him.

When the lesson ended, Kaelen packed Rayne carefully back into her blanket, ignoring the hushed comments. As he carried her out of the long house, he muttered to himself, almost fiercely: “No one will hurt you. I promise, Rayne. I’ll keep you safe.”

Outside, the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, and the whispers of the valley seemed to follow him, like wind rustling through the leaves. But Kaelen didn’t hear them. All he could hear was Rayne’s soft breathing and the quiet, unshakable bond between big brother and little sister.