On the far bank—downriver just far enough for modesty but close enough to hear raised voices—the men had claimed their own stretch of water. Sunlight glittered off broad, scarred backs and thick arms as they scrubbed with rough soaproot. Water splashed in heavy sheets, steam rising where hot skin met cool current. The air carried the sharper tang of male sweat, wet hides drying on rocks, and the faint smoky residue of the hunt still clinging to their hair.
Grandfather Gorrak stood waist-deep, water lapping at the hard slabs of his belly, idly scrubbing his beard while his eyes scanned the opposite bank toward the women's side. Beside him, Uncle Kjell—built like a bear himself—ducked under to rinse his hair, then popped back up with a grin.
My father, Harlan, was… being Harlan. He'd just launched himself backward into a deeper pool with an exaggerated whoop, surfaced sputtering, and was now attempting to balance a flat river stone on his forehead while treading water. Completely naked, of course. The stone slipped, bonked him on the nose, and he yelped dramatically.
Grandfather watched this performance for a long moment, then turned to Uncle Kjell with a long-suffering sigh. "So. How's the boy doing?"
"Kai?" Kjell chuckled, flicking water from his ears. "Genius as always. Kid recited every herb Eira taught today—names, uses, even the embarrassing one—faster than you can snap a spear. Poor new girl looked like she'd been spun ten times."
Grandfather nodded slowly, pride flickering in his eyes as he glanced across the river again (probably trying to spot me in the crowd of splashing kids). Then he fixed his gaze on my father, who had now recruited two cousins into a splash-war and was losing spectacularly.
"How in the name of every thunder-struck god did that one," he jerked a thumb toward Harlan, who'd just taken a faceful of water and was flailing like a drowning deer, "manage to sire a genius like Kai?"
Kjell snorted, sending ripples across the water. "Beats me, old man. Maybe Lira did all the work. Or the spirits took pity on the bloodline."
Both men stared at my father in silence as he surfaced again, coughing and laughing, trying to proclaim himself "King of the River" while slipping on a mossy rock and nearly dunking himself a second time.
Grandfather pinched the bridge of his nose.
Kjell shook his head.
Together, they let out the longest, most theatrical sigh the Thunderfang Tribe had ever heard—deep, rumbling, perfectly synchronized.
Somewhere across the river, I swear I felt that sigh in my bones.
And honestly?
Fair question, Grandpa. Fair question.
Grandmother Valka knelt behind me in the shallows, her powerful thighs framing my small body as she worked fragrant soaproot into my hair. Her calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle, massaging my scalp in slow, firm circles that sent warm shivers down my spine. Each time she leaned forward to rinse, the heavy, water-slick weight of her full breasts pressed against my back—soft, warm, and yielding, like heated pillows that molded perfectly to my shoulders. The sensation was impossible to ignore, yet completely innocent in this world.
In front of me, Aunt Eira sat cross-legged in the clear water, my calves draped across her lap. Her slick hands glided up and down my legs in a soothing massage, thumbs pressing just right along my shins and calves. Every upward stroke brought my feet closer to the soft, buoyant swell of her breasts floating just beneath the surface; my toes would occasionally brush against that warm, silky skin before she gently guided them away with a quiet laugh. The river's cool current swirled around us, contrasting deliciously with the heat radiating from their bodies.
Sun-dappled light filtered through overhead leaves, turning the water into liquid emerald. Birds called lazily in the trees; women's laughter and splashing echoed all around. The air smelled of clean river, crushed herbs still clinging to Eira's skin, and the faint, intoxicating warmth of sun-heated female bodies.
I sank deeper into the sensation—Grandmother's breasts a steady, comforting pressure against my back, Eira's hands kneading away every trace of tension, the gentle lap of water, the fresh forest breeze.
Now this, I thought drowsily, this is life.
It felt like floating on fluffy clouds made of pure comfort. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. The voices around me softened into a distant lullaby. Within moments, I slipped into the deepest, most peaceful sleep I'd had in two lifetimes—blissful, dreamless, utterly safe.
When my head lolled gently to the side, Grandmother Valka froze. She glanced down at my relaxed face, then at Eira, and smiled softly. Without a word, she slid one strong arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me from the water as carefully as if I were made of glass. Cool air kissed my wet skin for only a second before Eira was there, draping a soft hide towel around me, then wrapping another around Grandmother's broad shoulders and her own curves.
Still cradling me against her chest—my cheek now nestled directly against the warm, damp swell of her breast—Grandmother carried me up the bank and through the village paths toward her private hut. Each step rocked me gently; the steady rhythm of her heartbeat thumped softly beneath my ear.
Inside the dim, herb-scented room, she lowered me onto the thick fur bed with infinite care, tucking warm blankets around my small body until only my face peeked out. I didn't stir once.
The door creaked. Grandfather Gorrak ducked inside, voice already booming—then caught sight of me. Valka pressed a finger to her lips, eyes sparkling with quiet affection.
"Shhh."
He froze mid-step, glanced at my sleeping form, and nodded with uncharacteristic gentleness. The fearsome patriarch of the Thunderfang Tribe tiptoed the rest of the way in like a thief.
The two of them moved to the far side of the room, voices dropping to low murmurs as they discussed plans for tonight's feast—roast yields, honey allocation for the new bear guard, which cousins were old enough to stay up late.
All the while, I slept on, cocooned in blankets that still carried Grandmother's warmth, dreaming of nothing but the lingering feel of soft curves, cool river water, and the safest place in this new world.