Page 28 of The War of Four Winters

"You're getting better at this," Katyr observed quietly. "Being the father they need, not the one Tarathiel was to us." His eyes moved to the boys, then back to me. "The father who sees children as treasures to protect, not possessions or pawns."

I squeezed Leif's hand gently, feeling the fragile bones beneath my fingers. Such a small thing to protect, yet so resilient despite everything. "I'm trying to be the father I needed when I was their age," I admitted. "The one who never came."

Katyr's expression softened. "I think that's exactly what makes you different from him."

"King Ruith!" Torsten called, oblivious to our conversation. "We need to name him. A king wolf needs a proper name."

I knelt beside their creation, bringing myself to their level. Snow immediately soaked through my trousers, but I ignored the discomfort. "What names have you considered?"

Torsten launched into an elaborate explanation of possible names, each more grandiose than the last. Leif listened with the patient expression of someone who had heard these suggestions many times already. Behind them, Katyr watched with a small smile, his golden curls bright against the winter landscape.

"What do you think, Leif?" I asked, deliberately drawing the quieter boy into the conversation. "What name would honor such a magnificent wolf?"

Leif considered the question with the seriousness only a child can bring to such matters. Finally, he said, "Vargulf."

Katyr and I exchanged startled glances. Vargulf, Lord of the Hunt in ancient elvish mythology, was not a name commonly known to human children. More personally, it had been an avatar of Vargulf that I had slain during my ritual king hunt - the massive white wolf whose heart I had cut out to claim my crown. The memory of blood on snow, of transformation and sacrifice, still haunted my dreams sometimes.

"Where did you hear that name?" I asked carefully, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"In the stories," Leif replied, gaining confidence. "Master Gracin tells us stories while he works. He said Vargulf protects those who are hunted, that he teaches them to become hunters instead." His eyes met mine with innocent earnestness. "Like us. We were hunted, but now we're learning to be strong."

I felt Katyr's gaze on me, knowing he understood the weight of that name, the blood price I had paid to the ancient god of hunters and prey. It was fitting for these former slave children to choose that particular deity as their protector.

The blacksmith who removed slave collars had apparently been sharing more than just his metalworking skills. I made a mental note to thank him, and perhaps encourage these history lessons.

"Vargulf is a powerful name," I told him. "A worthy choice."

Leif's slight smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Beside him, Torsten was already weaving an elaborate tale about their snow wolf's adventures, complete with dramatic gestures that threatened to topple their creation.

Katyr knelt beside me in the snow, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "You know, for someone who worries about being a father, you're showing remarkable natural talent."

"They're not mine," I reminded him.

"Aren't they?" He nodded toward Leif, who was now carefully adjusting the cloak around Vargulf's shoulders. "Elindir claimed them as his wards, and you claimed Elindir. Family isn't always about blood. You taught me that."

"Speaking of family," I said, changing the subject, "any word from your sources about Vinolia?"

A shadow crossed Katyr's face at the mention of his grandmother. His relationship with the Runecleaver matriarch was even more complicated than mine with Tarathiel.

"Her forces haven't moved," Katyr replied, his expression closing slightly. "But my informants report increased activity. More battle mages arriving, supplies being stockpiled. She's preparing for something."

I nodded, turning this information over in my mind. With Elindir and Niro sailing to Homeshore, with Aryn and Daraith headed to D'thallanar, our defensive positions were more vulnerable than I cared to admit.

The shift in Katyr's expression brought me back to the reality of our situation. While I enjoyed these moments with the boys, the dangers gathering at our borders couldn't be ignored.

"How many battle mages?" I asked, keeping my voice low so the children wouldn't hear.

"At least eight hundred confirmed," Katyr replied. "Plus the Wolfhearts with them."

I let out a slow breath, watching it cloud in the cold air. "And our own forces?"

"Stretched thin," he admitted. "With the Broken Blades contingent gone with Elindir, we're relying heavily on my apprentices. They're talented but inexperienced."

Before I could respond, a messenger appeared at the edge of the courtyard, snow clinging to his cloak. His hesitation told me he was reluctant to interrupt, but the sealed message in his hand meant the matter couldn't wait.

"Your Majesty," he called, bowing slightly. "Urgent reports from the northern outposts."

"Duty calls," I said to Katyr, squeezing Leif's shoulder gently before standing. "Keep an eye on them for me?"

---