The kitchen smelled of something baked and herbal; outside, a light morning drizzle ran in a small, quick trot, dimming the daylight. Kaura watched her sister take a bowl out of the drying rack and couldn’t help smiling.

“Tomorrow morning they’ll take the cast off, and I want to fly straight to Uncle Mayur’s. Do you want to come with me, check on him?”

Kaura wouldn’t have minded seeing her aunt and uncle, but the date with Auran drew her in far more strongly. She was about to tell her sister about it, yet for some reason she lied instead:

“I’d love to, but I have to go on a business trip. I’m leaving later today and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

She pressed her lips together in irritation — she hated lying, yet somehow couldn’t bring herself to be honest with her sister.

Auran sent the address and confirmed the time. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary, but her heart still gave a small, excited thump — after all, this was a date with guaranteed intimacy.

Kaura arrived right on schedule — the flipp touched down softly by the entrance. The wind mussed her hair, and fine droplets settled onto her coat in cool little specks. The building looked unusual, as if several enormous shells had fused together. Its white arches shimmered with nacre, and rows of festive blue ribbons wrapped around the windows in horizontal bands.

___________________

The hotel admitted her automatically: her bracelet gave a quick signal, and the doors slid open by themselves. “Room activated,” the built-in voice intoned.

The room was quiet and cool. It smelled of clean air and something sweet-and-dry, like fresh pages. She inhaled deeply, trying to shed the tension. She took off her coat and set her bag down.

“Let him run late. At least I’ll have a moment to settle myself before he gets here.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened. Auran walked in as if he weren’t late at all. He greeted her, shrugged off his jacket, and headed straight for the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder. “Got held up in editing.”

Kaura sank wearily onto the edge of the bed, running her hand over the fabric. Well… he won’t let me sleep, but he’ll make me wait.

When he came out, shaking the water from his hands, a warm smile flickered across his face. Kaura stood and stepped toward him — close enough to feel his breath. He barely had time to exhale before she pressed against him. He responded at once, pulling her into a hug, his hand settling on her back and lingering there; even through the thin fabric her skin rose in goosebumps.

They melted into a kiss, but after only a few seconds the reporter pulled back.

“I’m starving,” he said matter-of-factly. “When I’m hungry, I’m useless. Let’s go eat?”

Kaura nodded, keeping her tone even.

 “Fair. I’m the same way.”

He perked up a little.

 “Great. We’ll walk — there’s a good place nearby.”

Auran strode ahead, just a little too fast, checking his tablet every few steps as he answered message after message. A few minutes later, still not looking up, he added:

“There’ll be a friend of mine there — really solid guy. We haven’t caught up in ages. I told him I’d be close by today. He’s a useful contact; gotta maintain the connection, and I’m constantly swamped.”

They turned toward a brightly lit café with transparent walls. The light glimmered on the rain-streaked glass, as if beckoning them inside.

_____________________

“We’re the last breeding center for this ancient species, and even we’re capped at twenty-five animals,” the man said with a slow shake of his head. He was big and broad-shouldered, his head held with quiet assurance, his movements steady and grounded. His features were bold but not crude; a high forehead, attentive eyes softened by a faint, almost gentle squint.

Juar pulled out his tablet and began showing photos of beautiful, powerful dogs. In one of them, a striking woman with a loose, wind-tangled braid of pale-lilac hair stood on crushed sand while a large dog joyfully leapt up at her. Two others stood at her sides, tails wagging with earnest enthusiasm. Kaura paused — the woman looked uncannily like a close friend of hers who lived far away.

“Is that your wife?”

 He nodded.

 “She looks so much like a good friend of mine.”

The next photo popped up — the same woman with the dogs and a young man who looked very much like Juar.

“Your son?” Kaura guessed.

  Juar nodded.

And then Kaura suddenly saw a glow around him — swirling shades of emerald, gray, and blue. It blurred like heat-haze, then tightened into slow spirals. She focused on him more closely.

He switched off the tablet and slipped it away without looking at her — and the glow disappeared. At that moment Auran came back up the stairs.

“They run twenty to thirty kilometers a day with us, hunt,” Juar went on.

“Hopefully not after fugitives,” Kaura quipped.

Auran lifted his brows in surprise and gave her a sharp, attentive look.

“I was telling Kaura about the dogs we breed,” Juar explained. “It’s an ancient line — some princes used them to sic on people. With proper workloads they’re not aggressive at all, and as they age they become downright gentle. Only in their teenage phase — like humans — they get a bit wild.”

Kaura found herself wondering why this even needed clarification. Did Auran really not know what his supposedly ‘very good friend’ was passionate about?

They traded a couple of jokes, and the conversation slid naturally toward the catastrophe and its lingering consequences. What worried the men more than aftershocks was the uncertain number of escaped convicts still armed; as for the tremors themselves, everyone was confident there would be no casualties — only more destruction.

Kaura, just as Auran had asked, didn’t join in. She focused on her work on the tablet, pausing only now and then to try the dishes. After a while the men said they needed to step away and left. The reporter grabbed his bag with the tablet; Juar left his behind — lying open and facing Kaura.

She looked out the window: the fine rain sparkled across the glass, making the world outside look sealed off and far away. She spotted them — standing a little distance from the café, clearly wanting a private word. And around Juar, the same glow appeared again.

Kaura noticed the subtle twitch in Auran’s posture — he saw it too.

 The glow intensified; whatever Juar was saying mattered.

Kaura turned her eyes away — peeking in, even just visually, felt wrong.

Ten minutes later the men returned, and they all raised their glasses. After the wine, Auran began saying his goodbyes, and Kaura naturally followed suit.

Juar stood up with them — he was planning to wait for his wife, but rose automatically to offer Kaura his hand, as if parting with someone he already knew well. She reached out in return.

“Lovely meeting you, Kaura! You’re wonderful to be around — such a genuinely kind person,” he said with a warm smile, and it sounded sincere.

Auran had already turned toward the stairs and was waiting for their farewells to end. Kaura, meanwhile, expected him to hand her her coat — a small awkward pause followed before she realized she had to take care of it herself. She reached out, pulled it from the back of the chair, and started putting it on.

 Juar watched her with a clear urge to help but knew stepping in would make his friend look bad. Kaura managed quickly on her own.

“Are you coming?” Auran called — he hadn’t noticed the moment of awkwardness with the coat, already standing at the top of the stairs.

The lateness, the careless distance, the forgotten coat — all of it suddenly jabbed at her sharply, overshadowing everything else. Even the glow of Juar’s aura slipped entirely from Kaura’s mind.