Page 36 of Knot My Type

“How about you let us show you?”

I don’t want to push her, but there’s something driving me, something that urges me to reach out, to connect, to show her that this place, our cabin, can feel like home.

“What about you?” she asks, her curiosity piqued. “What’s your story?”

I hesitate, caught off guard by her interest. It seems almost foreign for someone to inquire about me, especially in this way, with genuine curiosity rather than suspicion. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, the warmth of the stew filling the spacebetween us, creating an atmosphere where I feel safe enough to share.

"I grew up in a pack very much like any other," I begin, my voice steady but painted with a hint of nostalgia. "We had traditions, laws, and expectations, just like any family. When I was younger, I believed in those ideals wholeheartedly. I followed the rules, kept my head down, and did what was expected of me. But it wasn't long before I realized that loyalty didn’t mean safety, and the people I trusted the most had the power to hurt me the deepest."

I catch a flicker of understanding in Eliana's eyes as she listens, her head tilting slightly as if she’s peeling back layers of my history. “What happened?”

“During a council meeting, I was tasked with making sure everything went smoothly—keeping the peace. But there were factions within the pack, power struggles that had been simmering for years. One fateful night, it exploded. Friends turned into enemies in a heartbeat. It was chaos. I lost my brother that night—he was one of the few who fought against the dissent, and when the dust settled, I was left with nothing but regret and the ashes of what once was.”

The weight of those memories threatens to press down on me, and I push it back down. I can see Eliana absorbing my story, her expression a mirror of empathy. “After that, I realized loyalty could lead to destruction. I wanted to protect myself, but in the end, it meant abandoning everything I knew. I chose to leave. I thought it'd be easier to run than to confront the pain.”

Eliana breaks it with a thoughtful gaze, deep-set and fierce. “That must have been hard for you,” she offers softly. “Leaving your family… your home and everything you grew up with. It echoes what I faced.”

She hesitates.“I don’t think any of us come from easy lives,” she continues, her voice gathering strength. “Being a part of apack is meant to feel like coming home, but I felt trapped. I was never enough. And when I finally stood up for my right to express myself—to pursue my passion for writing—they turned their backs on me. Suddenly, I was just...gone.”

I hear the pain in her voice, the way it trembles as she recounts the struggle of her past. The parallels between our stories dawn on me with surprising clarity. Running from pain, seeking solace only to find it elusive, that sense of betrayal—we share more than just the scars of our pasts.

“Eliana,” I say, my tone earnest, “you’re not alone. We each carry our wounds, but here, they don’t define us. What binds us together is stronger—the chance to heal, to support one another. You can choose to let this be a place of safety, not just a temporary refuge.”

The fire crackles in the distance, and as the flames dance, there’s a growing warmth between us that stretches beyond the physical. I want to reach out, to bridge the gap that fear and self-doubt bridge between us. She doesn’t need to bear this burden alone, any more than I do.

“I was just trying to keep my distance,” she admits, her voice barely breaking above the sound of the crackling flames. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you, to the others. Now it seems like my presence could put you all in danger.”

Understanding blooms, and I shake my head slowly. “Your presence is not a danger; it’s a gift. Each of us chose to come together as a pack, to create a family bound not by blood but by shared experience. That means we support one another.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Her eyes search mine, and beneath the uncertainty, I see the glimmer of hope, a yearning to belong.

“I do,” I reaffirm, feeling the truth behind my words resonate in my chest. “Every pack has its trials, its shadows, but together,we hold the light. You don’t have to fight the darkness alone. Let us prove that to you.”

Eliana draws her breath in slowly. The tension that once swirled in the room has shifted. I can see her allowing the weight of her barriers to ease, the potential for genuine connection igniting something within her.

“Okay,” she whispers, vulnerability dripping from her like rainwater. I watch as she picks up her spoon again, stirring the stew with renewed purpose. “I want to try.”

A smile breaks across my face, and in that moment, I feel the tight knot of anxiety in my chest begin to unravel. We're standing on the precipice of something new, something fragile but filled with potential. It’s a promise—a promise to each other to explore uncharted territories of trust and connection.

As Eliana takes another spoonful of the stew, her movements infused with more confidence, I can’t help but admire her. There’s a strength simmering beneath her tentative exterior, and even though she’s been through hell, she’s still here, still fighting for her place. It makes me want to fight harder too.

The storm outside has exhausted itself, leaving a crisp silence in its wake. As the wind dies down, the world outside settles into a soft quiet, reflecting the growing peace in my heart. I feel the optimism breed between us, and the cabin, which once felt like a haven for misfits, begins to feel like home.

“I never thought I would end up in a place like this,” Eliana muses, casting her gaze out the window. “I thought I’d just keep running and that I would never find a place where I belonged, where I could be myself.”

“There’s beauty in the unexpected,” I reply, looking out with her at the snow-blanketed landscape. “It may not have been what you envisioned, but sometimes the best paths aren’t the ones we plan.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, her eyes still trained outside, taking in the way the light shifts on the fresh layer of snow. “It’s just hard to shake the feeling of being unwanted. I’ve felt that too long, I think.”

“Then let today mark a new beginning. This is your chance to carve out your own place in the world. We want you here, Eliana.” My words feel steady and sincere, a beacon fighting against the storm within her.

She finally looks back at me, a spark igniting in her eyes. “Thank you, Kael. For everything. I didn’t realize how much I needed… this.”

The silence stretches between us, comfortably filled with the crackling of the fire and the gentle aroma of the stew, enveloping us in a cocoon of warmth.

“Let’s see how you do with second helpings, then,” I encourage, a teasing tone edging my words. “Proof that you’re not just filling up space here.”

The corners of her lips turn up, and I feel that weight of warmth spread through me again as laughter bursts from her.

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