The river bend was quiet.

The birds had stopped singing. Or perhaps they had never been singing. Perhaps the silence had always been there, waiting for Hóng Yè to notice it.

He noticed it now.

Lì Jìng sat beside him on the fallen log, her shoulder close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

The white petals from the fruit trees drifted down around them, landing in her hair, on her shoulders, on the pale green scales of her arms.

She did not brush them away.

Hóng Yè watched one settle on her cheek. It lay there for a moment, fragile and white, before a breeze lifted it and carried it toward the river.

He looked away.

"The fruit," Lì Jìng said. "You said it was sweet."

She was looking at the trees, at the golden fruit hanging just out of reach, at the way the light caught the dew on their skins.

"It is," Hóng Yè said.

"Will you get one?"

He stood. He did not ask why. He did not ask why she wanted him to get it, or why she could not get it herself, or why he was doing what she asked without question.

He simply reached up.

His fingers brushed the branch. The fruit came loose, falling into his palm, warm from the sun and heavy with juice.

He sat back down.

He held it out to her.

Lì Jìng took it. Their fingers brushed. Neither of them acknowledged this.

She bit into the fruit. Juice ran down her chin. She laughed.

"It is sweet," she said.

"Hmmm."

She took another bite. Then she held the fruit out to him.

"You should have some."

Hóng Yè looked at the fruit. At the place where her teeth had broken the skin. At the juice still glistening on the rind.

He took it.

He bit.

It was sweet.

They passed the fruit back and forth until nothing remained but the core, which Hóng Yè tossed into the river, where it floated for a moment before sinking beneath the surface.

Lì Jìng watched it go.

"I like being your friend," she said.

Her voice was soft, almost shy.

Hóng Yè said nothing.

Lì Jìng did not seem bothered by his silence. She picked another fruit from the tree, this one smaller, slightly bruised on one side, and bit into it.

They ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward one, no. It was comfortable. No need to fill in the space like people usually would.

Hóng Yè had never experienced this kind of silence before.

He found that he liked it.

~

The fruit was finished.

Lì Jìng wiped her hands on her skirt and leaned back, her dark hair falling across her shoulders, her jade eyes fixed on the sky.

"Fēng Láng," Hóng Yè said.

Her head turned. "What?"

"The wolf. The one from last night." His voice was careful. Like he was walking through a field of sleeping vipers. "Will you mate with him?"

Lì Jìng stared at him.

Then she scoffed.

It was not a delicate sound. It was rough and utterly without pretense.

"Of course not," she said. "He is too arrogant. He walks around like the world owes him something. Like everyone should be grateful just to breathe the same air."

"He is handsome," Hóng Yè muttered, kicking a stone.

"So?"

"So. Usually that matters."

"To some people." She shrugged. "Not to me."

Hóng Yè said nothing.

His tail had stopped flicking.

"The other boys," he said. "The jaguars. They like you."

Lì Jìng considered this. She did not deny it. She did not blush.

"Hmm," she said. "Maybe."

Hóng Yè’s jaw tightened.

"Páo Zhǎo," he said. "What of him? He seems bold."

Lì Jìng looked at him, her jade eyes were unreadable.

"Why are you telling me who to mate with?" she asked, her voice taking a hint of confusion.

Hóng Yè’s ears went warm. "I am not."

"You are."

"I am making conversation."

"You are pushing me toward Páo Zhǎo."

"I am not pushing."

"You said his name. You described him. You asked what I thought of him."

"That is not pushing. That is......" He trailed off. He did not know what it was.

Lì Jìng waited.

Hóng Yè looked at the river. At the water rushing over the stones. At the light dancing on the surface.

"I am sorry," he spoke quietly. "I did not mean to."

Lì Jìng was quiet for a moment.

Then she laughed. "I am joking," she said. "I am playing with you."

Hóng Yè blinked. "What?"

"You were so serious. Your face looked so serious and your eyebrows were very close together."

Hóng Yè’s hand went to his forehead. His eyebrows were not close together.

Were they?

Lì Jìng eventually stopped laughing. This panda was certainly adorable. He didn’t say anything to her again, and continued fiddling with his fingers. A sign of nervousness, she took it as.

"Should we go back?" she asked. "The hunt will be ending soon."

Hóng Yè looked toward the village. He could hear the distant shouts, the horns, the chaos of people who enjoyed things he did not enjoy.

"Hmm," he said.

Lì Jìng tilted her head. "You do not want to go."

"I do not want to hunt."

"Then do not hunt."

"I am a man. I should hunt."

Lì Jìng rolled her eyes.

It was a small gesture. Quick. Dismissive. But Hóng Yè noticed it. He noticed the way her nose scrunched slightly. The way her lips pressed together.

"Hunt if you want to," she said. "Do not hunt if you do not want to. It is not that complicated."

"It is complicated."

"It is not."

"You do not understand."

"I understand perfectly. You are trying to prove something to someone who is not watching."

Hóng Yè opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.

She was right.

He hated that she was right.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to fill the silence that had suddenly become uncomfortable.

Then he heard it.

Footsteps. Many of them. Heavy. Fast. Coming through the trees.

Hóng Yè stood.

Lì Jìng stood beside him.

The undergrowth exploded.

A wolf burst into the clearing, its fur burnished copper, its eyes molten gold. It was massive, its muscles rippling beneath its hide, its breath coming in sharp, hot bursts.

It was Fēng Láng.

He was in beast form.

His golden eyes found Hóng Yè first. They narrowed. A growl rumbled from his chest, rolling through the clearing like distant thunder.

Hóng Yè did not move. This was clearly an aggressive tactic. But he stood his ground, despite his heart racing.

Then Fēng Láng looked at Lì Jìng.

His growl softened.

His eyes softened.

The wolf turned and disappeared into the trees. The undergrowth closed behind him. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The silence returned.

Hóng Yè’s legs were shaking. He did not know when that had started. He pressed his hands against his thighs to still them.

"I am sorry," he said.

Lì Jìng looked at him. "For what?"

"For..." He gestured vaguely at the place where the wolf had stood. "For him. For getting in the way. For—"

"You did not get in the way."

"He was growling at me."

"He was being territorial. It is what wolves do."

"That does not make it better."

Lì Jìng sighed. She sat back down on the log, pulling her knees to her chest.

Hóng Yè remained standing.

"Maybe," he said slowly, "we could continue to be friends. After the festival ends. When he has gone back to wherever he came from."

Lì Jìng looked up at him. "Why after?"

"Because..." He swallowed. "I do not want to get in the way of your mating."

Lì Jìng’s expression shifted. Something flickered in her jade eyes. Hurt, perhaps. Or disappointment. He could not tell.

"But I told you," she said. "I do not want to mate with him."

"You did, but I don’t understand why—"

"I do not know," she interrupted. Her voice was sharp. "I do not know why he looked at me like that. I do not know why he growled at you. I do not know anything."

Hóng Yè looked at her.

Her hands were shaking.

He sat back down.

"I am sorry," he said again. "I will not push you toward anyone. Not Páo Zhǎo. Not Fēng Láng. Not anyone."

Lì Jìng was quiet for a long moment.

"Good," she said finally.

"Should we go back together?" Hóng Yè asked.

Lì Jìng looked at him. Her jade eyes were soft again. The hurt was gone, or hidden, or perhaps it had never been there at all.

"Together," she repeated.

"Together."

She nodded.

They stood.

And then—

ROAR.

The sound came from above. Not from the trees. Not from the river. From the sky.

Lì Jìng’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide.

"What is that?"

Hóng Yè sighed. He did not need to look. He knew that roar. He had heard it a thousand times, at dawn and dusk and every hour in between.

"That," he said, "is a dragon."

"A dragon????" Li Jing had only heard the rumors of dragons that mingled with the people of thousand fang, but she had never imagined.....

"Uncle Sparkles."

"Uncle.....Sparkles?"

"It is a long story."

The golden form descended through the clouds, massive and brilliant, wings spread wide, scales catching the sunlight and throwing it back in blazing arcs. Cāng Jì circled above them, once, twice, three times, and the wind from his wings sent the white petals flying in every direction.

Lì Jìng covered her eyes.

Hóng Yè covered his.

He heard screaming.

Children screaming.

Lì Jìng lowered her arm. Her jade eyes tracked the dragon’s flight.

"Who is that?" she asked.

Hóng Yè facepalmed.

"Seems," he said, "I was not the only person my parents conspired to get paired."

Lì Jìng blinked. "Paired?"

"Do not ask."