Roxy couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even force a laugh.
She stared into Tanith’s wide, innocent green eyes, the terrifying, absolute certainty of the System’s invisible blade hanging squarely over her head, completely eclipsing the room’s warmth
Several weeks passed after that.
The grueling, bone-deep exhaustion of her labor was now nothing more than a distant mory. The Queen of the Iron-Wood was practically glowing. Her stamina had returned in full force, and her steps were light, energetic, and brimming with her usual fierce authority.
But beneath her radiant exterior, a quiet, strategic rebellion was taking place.
If the System was going to remain entirely ominously silent, Roxy refused to be caught relying on its magic. The days of tapping a glowing blue holographic screen to instantly harvest a field or summon inventory items were over.
She needed the Manor to be completely, biologically self-sufficient.
Which was exactly why Roxy had officially decreed today to be a mandatory, pack-wide "Farming Day."
The sprawling, tiered gardens located just beside the Manor’s natural hot springs were a hive of absolute, coordinated chaos. The geothermal heat radiating from the bubbling pools kept the rich, dark soil incredibly warm, allowing them to cultivate crops even as the crisp, biting chill of the approaching winter began to touch the Iron-Wood forest.
Roxy, however, was strictly forbidden from touching the dirt.
Her mates had collectively and violently vetoed the idea of their Queen kneeling in the mud so soon after giving birth. Instead, they had constructed a lavish, heavily cushioned wicker daybed beneath a sprawling silk canopy at the very edge of the garden.
Roxy was comfortably reclined against a mountain of pillows, wearing a loose, breathable linen dress. Her bodice was casually unlaced, granting imdiate access to the tiny, ferociously demanding creature currently strapped to her chest.
Tyara, now several weeks old, had grown significantly, but her feral tabolism had not slowed down in the slightest.
The fluffy-eared White Tiger cub had both of her chubby fists tangled in the fabric of Roxy’s dress, her eyes narrowed in intense focus as she aggressively nursed.
Sitting safely right beside the daybed was a beautifully crafted stroller, woven from polished iron-wood and lined with shimring abyssal silk. Inside, Zale was sitting perfectly upright.
The stark-white abyssal prince wasn’t making a sound, his eyes tracking the pack’s frantic movents with profound, silent fascination.
"You missed a spot, Fox!" Torian’s booming voice echoed across the tilled soil. The massive White Tiger Alpha was effortlessly carrying an entire, hollowed-out tree trunk filled with nutrient-rich compost over one shoulder, completely unbothered by the crushing weight.
"I am practicing precision, you brute, not widespread destruction," Ren snapped back.
The Fox King was kneeling in the dirt, his vibrant red hair tied back in a ssy bun. He was utilizing his delicate, highly dexterous fingers to ticulously plant tiny, fragile seeds into perfectly spaced holes.
He looked absolutely miserable about the mud currently caking his usually immaculate fingernails, but he refused to be out-fard by the others.
A few yards away, Zarek had entirely forgone the use of standard farming tools. The towering Dragon Alpha had simply hooked his massive, heavily scarred hands into the heavy iron fra of a field plow.
He was dragging the heavy iron blades through the tough, rocky soil using pure, unadulterated draconic strength, his broad chest heaving as he ripped the earth open as if it were a piece of wet paper.
Kaelen walked behind him, his eyes narrowed in absolute focus as he expertly tossed seeds into the freshly turned rows, calculating the precise spatial geotry required for optimal crop yields.
Further down the slope, near the steaming edges of the hot springs, Syris was carefully examining the root structures of a rare cluster of dicinal winter-herbs, while Caspian was knee-deep in a freshly dug trench.
The forr Abyssal King was completely covered in mud. His stark white shirt was stained brown, and his new, fragile mortal muscles were clearly trembling from the physical exertion.
Sweat poured down his face, pasting his silver hair to his forehead. Yet, as he drove his shovel into the dirt to expand the irrigation line, a bright, breathtakingly genuine smile illuminated his bruised face. He was exhausted, but he was undeniably, beautifully alive on the Surface.
"Mama! Mama, look!"
A sudden, joyous shout broke Roxy’s observation.
Axel and Onyx ca sprinting up the grassy incline, completely covered from head to toe in dark, wet mud. The seven-year-old wolf twins looked like tiny swamp monsters.
Axel reached the edge of the canopy first, holding up a massive, terribly misshapen, and heavily bruised root vegetable with absolute, triumphant pride.
"I vanquished the dirt monster!" Onyx declared, his eyes shining brightly. "I dug it out all by myself!"
"It is a turnip, Onyx," Axel corrected, though he was equally as filthy, proudly clutching a perfectly round, smooth river stone he had unearthed. "I found a rock. For throwing at enemies."
Roxy let out a bright, lodic laugh, her heart swelling at the sight of them. She reached over to a small wooden table beside her daybed, picking up a plate of sweet, candied fruit slices Kaelen had prepared that morning.
"You are both terrifyingly brave warriors," Roxy praised them, her violet eyes crinkling at the corners. "The Manor is safe from the turnips thanks to you. Co get your rewards."
The twins eagerly snatched the candied fruit, their tails wagging furiously, before turning and sprinting right back into the mud.
Iris trotted up a mont later, significantly cleaner than her brothers. The sweet little wolf pup held out a pristine, beautifully intact cluster of wild mint leaves.
"For Syris’s potions," Iris smiled softly.
"Beautifully harvested, my sweet girl," Roxy cooed, handing her a sweet treat.
Even Drax approached the canopy. The teenage dragon-shifter strode up holding a massive, perfectly bundled, flawlessly tied sheaf of harvested winter-wheat.
He stopped at the edge of the shade, his face set in a mask of strict, stoic discipline, entirely mimicking Zarek’s usual brooding expression.
However, the tip of his armored, crimson dragon tail was twitching frantically behind him.
Roxy saw right through the teenage warlord facade. She accepted the heavy basket of wheat, setting it gently on the grass. She reached out with her free hand, gently patting Drax’s cheek.
"Excellent periter clearing, Drax," Roxy murmured proudly. "I couldn’t have done it better myself."
Drax’s stoic mask instantly cracked. A faint, pleased flush dusted his cheeks, and he took his candied fruit with a low, happy grumble before marching back to the fields to maintain order.
From his stroller, Zale clapped his tiny, webbed hands together in a completely silent display of applause for his older siblings.
Tyara simply paused her nursing for a fraction of a second, casting a dark, feral glare at Drax to ensure he wasn’t going to steal her mother’s attention for too long, before aggressively latching back on.
By the ti the sun hit its absolute peak in the sky, casting brilliant, golden rays over the Iron-Wood, Kaelen finally let out a loud, booming whistle.
"Midday break!" the Wolf Alpha called out, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The collective relief was palpable. The six Alpha Kings and the muddy children abandoned their tools, migrating to the massive, rustic outdoor garden table Zarek had carved from a single, fallen oak tree.
They took turns washing the worst of the mud from their hands and faces at the iron water pump before collapsing onto the heavy wooden benches.
Dena hurried out from the Manor kitchens carrying trays of food. There were pitchers of ice-cold spring water, sprawling platters of cured ats, thick wedges of sharp mountain cheese, and baskets of freshly baked, steaming, crusty bread.
Roxy gently unlatched the finally sleeping Tyara, pulling her dress closed and burping the cub before carefully transferring her to a cushioned bassinet next to Zale’s stroller. She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles, and walked over to take her rightful place at the head of the garden table.
The atmosphere was incredibly warm, entirely chaotic, and beautifully dostic. The sounds of clinking goblets, the twins arguing over the last piece of cheese, and the deep, rumbling laughter of the Alphas filled the crisp autumn air.
Roxy took a long, refreshing sip of her ice-cold water, letting the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. She set her goblet down, her eyes sweeping over her massive, fiercely protective, and thoroughly dirt-covered family.
She had made up her mind. The Manor was secure, the crops were planted, and she was fully healed. She needed more stuff in the kitchen and their wardrobes.
Roxy cleared her throat, instantly commanding the attention of the entire table. The chatter imdiately died down.
"The harvest looks incredible," Roxy began, offering them all a proud smile. "But we are missing a few things and heavy winter fabrics that we cannot produce here in the Iron-Wood. I need to leave the territory."
Roxy ignored the sudden, suffocating pressure, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the polished oak.
"I am going to the central Beast Market tomorrow morning," Roxy announced casually, reaching for a piece of bread. She looked around the table. "It will be a quick trip. Who wants to go with to the beast market?"
Twelve hands shot straight up into the air.
Drax, Axel, Onyx, and Iris threw their arms up so fast they nearly knocked over their water goblets. Kaelen, Syris, Ren, Torian, and Caspian all raised their hands with absolute, deadly serious, unblinking conviction.
At the far end of the table, Zarek, the towering, terrifying Dragon Alpha who despised crowds, loathed rchants, and usually threatened to incinerate anyone who looked at him in the public square, had his massive arm raised higher than anyone else’s.
Roxy froze, the piece of bread halting halfway to her mouth. She stared at them.
She let out a long, heavy, profoundly exasperated sigh, her head dropping back as she rolled her eyes toward the canopy.
"Seriously?" Roxy groaned, leveling a deadpan, utterly unimpressed glare directly at the Dragon King. "Even you, Zarek?"
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