Chapter 3: Love at the Lake Shore
The lake burned orange with sunset, its surface so still it mirrored the sky like glass. I trailed behind Balto and Ezo, my paws dragging through the warm sand. Every few steps, Balto would sprint ahead, then double back to nose at my hand—as if checking I was still there.
Prairie's door swung open before we could knock.
"Silver! Ezo! And—" Beaver's voice hitched as she spotted Balto. Her tail gave one stiff thump against the floorboards. The universal signal for "Who's this?"
Before I could answer, Prairie squeezed under Beaver's arm, her nose twitching. "New Friend? Hi! I'm Prairie! You're super cute—argh!"
Beaver's hand clapped over Prairie's mouth. Her cheeks darkened. "Ignore her. She's… overly friendly with newcomers."
Balto just grinned and licked Beaver's nose.
Their lodge smelled of pine resin and dried herbs. Ezo flopped onto a pile of cushions, her game already chirping to life. I pretended not to notice how Beaver and Prairie's tails kept tangling under the table—or how Beaver flinched when Prairie nuzzled her ear.
Humans called this "love." The professor's books described it in clinical terms: elevated heart rate, obsessive grooming, shared nesting. None of that captured the way Beaver's claws dug into the table when Prairie leaned too close, like she was afraid they'd fuse together.
I poked Beaver's shoulder. "So. You and Prairie…?"
Beaver's ears flattened. "It's—complicated."
Prairie giggled. "She means 'I panicked when the professor said Friends could fall in love, so I hid in a dam for three days.'"
A log cracked in the fireplace. Beaver stared into the flames. "What if the others think it's… weird?"
Balto, who'd been chewing on a cushion, perked up. "Why? Love's awesome!" She lunged at me, knocking us both over. Her tongue swiped my cheek. "See? Easy!"
My face burned. Beaver's sigh was equal parts exasperation and envy.
Later, under stars thick as Sandstar sparkles, Balto flopped onto my lap. "Today was fun." Her breath warmed my neck.
I buried my fingers in her fur. This was love, then. Not the shaky, complicated thing Beaver feared—just warmth and weight and trust.
Ezo's game bleeped across the room. When I glanced over, she quickly looked away—but not before I saw her grip tighten around the console.
…Maybe love wasn't so simple after all.