Three weeks in Bulgaria had slipped by like the Struma River's steady current, pulling Miko and me into a comfortable routine that felt almost too good to be true. I'd spent my days sourcing materials for our future home—lumber, bricks, and tools from local suppliers on the outskirts of Zemen. Haggling in broken English and gestures had become my norm, but with my savings holding strong, we'd soon break ground on that hillside plot. Miko, meanwhile, had thrown herself into her job at the general store, restocking shelves with that effortless hybrid grace of hers. She'd stack crates twice her size without breaking a sweat, her tail swishing in rhythm to whatever folk tune played on the radio.
And her Bulgarian? She was picking it up like a natural, devouring phrasebooks and chatting with customers during slow hours. She'd flex it on me every chance she got—greeting me with a smug "Dobro utro, ljubov" (good morning, love) or correcting my mangled attempts at ordering food. "No, it's 'blagodarja,' not 'blago-dar-ya,'" she'd tease, her ears perking up with pride. It made me laugh, even as I envied her quick adaptation. Zemen's hybrid culture had embraced her fully; she fit right in with the fox-eared clerks and wolf-tailed patrons, sharing tips on local festivals over lunch breaks.
But today shattered the routine in the best way. A sharp knock echoed through our hotel room door just after lunch. I opened it, and there she was—Sylvia, looking road-worn but beaming, her clothes dusty from what must've been endless miles. "You made it," I breathed, pulling her into a hug before she could say a word. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, that familiar strength from our shared past flooding back.
Miko peeked over my shoulder, her eyes widening with joy. "Sylvia!" She squeezed in, turning it into a group embrace, her tail flicking happily against us both.
Sylvia laughed, stepping back to catch her breath. "God, it's good to see you two. That trek from France... it was brutal. Hitchhiking, scraping coins for phone booths to check in with you—remember those staticky calls? I walked half the way, dodging borders, sleeping in ditches. Overcrowded ferries, shady rides... but I'm here." Her voice cracked a little, the exhaustion showing in her eyes. "Elena's still out there, though. Lost contact after Spain. Not sure if she'll make it—waves were rough, and we got split bad."
My chest tightened at that, but relief at having Sylvia safe outweighed the worry for now. "You're here—that's what counts. Come on, let's get you settled."
I headed down to the reception desk, Sylvia trailing behind. The clerk, an older guy with a perpetual squint, greeted me in rapid Bulgarian. I fumbled through my usual charade—pointing to Sylvia, mimicking a key, holding up one finger for a room. He rattled off questions, prices, something about availability, and I just nodded blankly, my brain scrambling. How the fuck do I still not speak Bulgarian? I thought, frustration bubbling up. Three weeks, and I could barely order coffee without mime. Miko's help was a lifesaver most days; I'd drag her along for translations, her confident phrases smoothing everything over. But right now, it was just me, sweating through an intense back-and-forth of gestures and broken words until, finally, he slid a key across the counter. I paid extra to make it indefinite, just like ours.
Back upstairs, Sylvia crashed in her new room, promising to rest up before dinner. Miko and I retreated to ours, the day's excitement lingering like a warm buzz.
As night fell, the river's murmur lulling the town to sleep, Miko curled against me in bed. She clung to me tightly, her body molding to mine, her tail draping over my hip like a possessive claim. Her warmth seeped into me, her breath soft against my neck as she nuzzled closer. "We're building something real here," she whispered, her claws lightly tracing my chest before her eyes fluttered shut. I held her, the weight of our growing family—Sylvia included—settling over me like a blanket. Sleep came easy, dreams of our hillside home just within reach.