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The Empty Jar

The Orphanage

The laughter of the children echoed across the lawn, sounding like a flock of chattering sparrows.

Joshua had finished unloading all the supplies from his handcart—sacks of jerky, blocks of butter, and a basket of wild berries he had secretly gathered without telling anyone. Now, the empty cart had been entirely repurposed as a makeshift carriage for the orphans.

Rudy, the little fox cub, stood right at the front with both arms raised, shouting orders like a pint-sized general. Bob, a puppy, sat right behind him, his small paws gripping the edge tight as his tongue lolled in the wind. The twin goat kids were huddled in a tight ball at the back, letting out shrill squeals every time Joshua pulled the cart into a sharp turn. The rest of the children chased after them, clamoring for those on board to get off so they could have a turn.

Joshua pulled the cart in wide, sweeping circles across the yard, his heavy boots ripping up tufts of grass to reveal the dark soil beneath. He wasn't running—he didn't need to. His long strides ate up the ground effortlessly, though the children had to sprint with all their might just to keep pace with the wolf.

When he made a sharp hairpin turn, the cart tilted dramatically, making the children shriek with absolute delight. Joshua stabilized the vehicle without breaking stride, one clawed hand gripping the handle while the other reached out to pull a little raccoon boy away from the wheels before she tumbled underneath.

"Again! Do it again!" Rudy yelled.

"Let the others have a turn, Rudy," Joshua said. Rudy was reluctant , but finally scrambled down, allowing the wolf to hoist a fresh batch of children into the cart.

"Hold on tight," Joshua warned before pulling them in a sweeping figure-eight, provoking a chorus of shrieks so loud that a flock of birds in a nearby tree took flight in a panic.

Inside the house, Rhea, the apprentice, was helping Samantha set the dining table. A twenty-year-old ewe, Rhea wasn't the most meticulous worker, but she was quick on her feet. Over the past few weeks, she had learned that lunchtime at the orphanage was no ordinary meal; it was a grand operation. When these children were hungry, they turned into tiny zombies. They would happily chew on toys or the tablecloth if food didn't reach their mouths in time.

Rhea glanced out the window at the lawn. Joshua was currently maneuvering the cart around a puddle left by last night's rain. Bob had fallen off after trying to hitch a ride on the back and was now running alongside, desperately trying to grab hold again. Joshua slowed down just enough for the puppy to catch up, acting as if nothing had happened.

"He’s much kinder than he looks, isn't he?" Rhea remarked to Samantha, placing a jar of honey for the children's pancakes on the table. "I wouldn't have dared go near him if I hadn't seen how good he is with the kids. When he first delivered here, I thought—well, you know what I mean. He’s a wolf. He has fangs the size of fists, and he smells of the deep woods and... something else I can't quite put my finger on."

Samantha offered a soft murmur of agreement in her throat, placing a large bowl of stew in the center of the table.

"And then the children just swarmed him," Rhea continued. "Most men would have recoiled."

Samantha didn't say a word. She kept her eyes fixed on Joshua through the glass. He had stopped the cart and was bending toward the little raccoon boy, gently adjusting her posture to show her how to grip the rim properly with both hands. His claws—the very tools capable of tearing through hide and crushing bone with ease—wrapped around the child's tiny fingers with utmost gentleness.

He would make a wonderful father... Samantha thought bitterly. The only tragedy is... she will never be the mother of his children.

In truth, Samantha was already thirty years old and carried the burden of twelve orphans. She had no right to fantasize about a future, let alone a marriage.

Yet, she harbored those thoughts anyway. At least, she did when she was alone with Joshua. She would imagine the two of them waking up in the same bed, under the roof of a proper home, with nothing left to hide from the world.

"Samantha?" Rhea’s voice pulled her back to reality.

"The spoons," Samantha said quickly, pretending she had been focused on the cutlery all along.

When lunchtime arrived, Samantha walked out to the lawn and called the children in. Rudy was the first to leap from the cart, followed by Bob, who tripped and went rolling across the grass. The twin goats helped the little raccoon down, while Dip, a young rabbit, climbed off last in silence. The rest of the children followed in a ragged line toward the house, none of them looking back, though their faces were bright with smiles.

"Go wash your hands," Samantha ordered in a firm, maternal tone. "Everyone. I will be checking."

The children shuffled past her toward the water pump at the side of the house. Some pretended to wash while keeping their hands dry; others loved the water so much they refused to leave; the worst of them actively tried to eat the soap. Samantha managed the chaos with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times.

Once the children were washed, the sow handed them over to Rhea before turning to Joshua. He was leaning against the empty cart, arms crossed, watching the line of children with an expression that, while not quite a smile, was remarkably close to one.

"Follow me," she said softly. "I will settle your payment."

Joshua followed Samantha into her private room. It was exactly as it always was—a small, immaculate space with a single bed pushed against the wall, a wooden desk, a cash drawer, and a wardrobe.

The wildflowers he had brought her two weeks ago were gone, but the glass jar that had held them still sat on the windowsill. It had been washed clean, standing empty.

He took a seat on her wooden chair, crossing one long leg over the other. His thick tail flicked back and forth, as if the residual excitement from playing with the children hadn't quite left his veins. The wolf pulled out his canteen, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink. A few stray drops of water escaped his muzzle, trickling down his strong throat and over his collarbone. His Adam's apple bobbed heavily with each swallow.

Samantha pulled a handful of silver coins from a leather pouch and held them out to him.

"Pleasure doing business," he said, slipping the coins into his vest pocket without counting them.

He didn't move toward her.

Samantha stood in the center of the room, her hand still hovering slightly in the air from the transaction. The space between them felt strange. It was the same physical distance as always—three paces, perhaps four—but it felt hollow in a way it never had before.

"You look tired," Samantha noted.

Something was wrong. Normally, the moment they were behind closed doors, he would immediately pull her into his arms.

"I’m not tired," Joshua replied, leaning back against the wooden slats of the chair. "Pulling a cart doesn't take even a tenth of my strength."

"Is that so?" Samantha murmured. "Then why haven't you..."

Why aren't you holding me?

She bit back the words before they could leave her lips, instantly loathing herself for almost begging. She shouldn't have to ask for anything. She shouldn't even want anything from him.

Perhaps he was already bored of her.

After all, she was just an easy sow who had started sleeping with him because she needed his supplies.

Joshua was staring at her. His tail had gone completely still, and his ears twitched forward slightly—not out of defensiveness, but out of deep, focused attention. He was listening to the words she hadn't spoken aloud, reading her thoughts.

The wolf understood her far too easily.

"I’m a bit stressed, I suppose," he admitted, pausing as if searching for the right words. "Mav saw us."

The blood in Samantha’s veins turned to ice.

"When we were together. Behind the stall," Joshua sighed. "That day."

The entire room seemed to shrink, compressing around her. Samantha could feel her pulse thrumming violently in her throat, her wrists, and behind her eyes.

"How much did he see?" Her voice came out steadier than she expected.

"Enough to figure out what we are to each other," Joshua said, scratching the back of his neck with a sharp claw. "He won't breathe a word to anyone, but he’s going to hold it over my head and mock me for a long time."

"If the Pig Association finds out..." Samantha’s voice cracked. "I’m ruined. It will be the death of me."

"The association will never know," Joshua assured her, his voice absolute. "Mav is my friend. More than that—he's my cousin, my own blood. He would never betray me. He might have suspected something for a while, but he’ll keep his mouth shut."

Samantha shook her head, her hands trembling so fiercely she had to press her palms flat against her thighs to force them to stop. "But he knows. Someone knows. If he suspects us, others will too. One day it will reach the association. Oh my... I shouldn't have done this. We shouldn't have—"

"We shouldn't have done what?"

The cadence of Joshua's voice shifted. It wasn't anger; it was something raw and primal—something buried deep that was now clawing its way to the surface.

"What shouldn't we have done, Samantha?" He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Should we never have started this?"

Samantha couldn't answer. She was caught between two opposite feelings: her paralyzing fear of their forbidden affair, and the terrifying reality of how deeply she cared for him.

"I have never once regretted us," Joshua said, his jaw clenching tightly. Samantha watched the muscles bunch beneath the thick fur of his face. "I’ve wanted you forever. Damn it, do you really not know that?"

"Joshua…"

"I cried," his voice dropped to a ragged whisper. "When I heard you were betrothed to Ourois. I chopped firewood until my hands could barely grip the axe because I didn't know what the hell to do with myself."

The staff's room fell into a heavy silence. From outside, the faint, muffled voices of the children carried through the walls—someone was arguing over a seat at the table, but Rhea was handling it. Inside, there was only the sound of Joshua's breathing and the frantic drumming of Samantha's heart.

"I’ve always loved you too," Samantha blurted out, her voice barely a whisper as a sudden, burning heat stung the corners of her eyes. "Then why didn't you just take me away back then? We could have been together."

The tears spilled over. Samantha quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand, angry with herself for crying.

Joshua didn't answer, but he reached out to touch her. Samantha instinctively flinched back, causing his fingertips to graze nothing but the hem of her sleeve.

"Oh, my Samantha."

This is the worst, she thought. He spoke her name with more reverence and beauty than anyone ever had.

Joshua rose from the chair, stepping toward her with a slow, unhurried deliberation—like a predator backing an cornered prey into a dead end. Samantha raised her hands to cover her face, bringing her forearms up as a shield to keep him from pressing closer, or at least to keep him from pulling her hands away and seeing her tears.

But Joshua didn't do what she expected. He simply opened his massive arms and enveloped her in a tight embrace. Samantha’s face buried into his broad chest, while Joshua pressed his snout and lips firmly against her ear.

Samantha finally let go, weeping silently against him.

After a long moment, Joshua gently loosened his hold. Her tears had stopped, leaving damp tracks along her cheeks. The wolf used the back of his rough hand to wipe them away before cradling her face in his large, clawed paws. Then, he kissed her.

It wasn't a desperate, carnal kiss meant to drag her to the bed.

It was a warm, tender embrace—the exact same flavor of safety she had felt when he took her hand and led her out of the dark forest when she was fifteen. His lips pressed against hers as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist; as though there were no Pig Guild, no societal laws, and no restrictions to bind them.

Samantha kissed him back, her hands resting flat against the front of his vest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the coarse fur and the heavy, rhythmic thudding of his heart.

When they finally broke apart, Samantha remained leaned against his chest while Joshua gently stroked her back.

From outside, Bob's voice boomed through the door: "Where's Mr. Joshua? His soup is going to get entirely cold!"

Joshua let out a low huff that sounded like a chuckle. He stepped back. Samantha quickly smoothed her hair and straightened her dress, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. They walked out of the room one after the other—Samantha leading the way, Joshua following exactly three paces behind, looking for all the world as if they had done nothing more than discuss a routine receipt for supplies.

At the dining table, the twelve children had finished their lunch and were busy devouring dessert. Some were eating with absolute devotion, while others were more interested in playing with their neighbors. Rudy had saved the seat right next to his for Joshua, slapping the wooden bench the moment the wolf walked in.

"Sit here, Mr. Joshua! We saved it for you!"

Rudy and Bob shimmed over to make room, but the space was far too tight. Without a second thought, Rudy hopped off the bench, surrendered his spot, and climbed directly onto the wolf’s lap instead.

Joshua snuck a glance at Samantha. She offered him a nod so subtle it was almost imperceptible. Her face wore a bright smile, even if her eyes were still slightly red and swollen.

The little animals competed for the wolf’s attention, shouting over one another to tell him stories. The fox cub sat with his neck held high, bursting with pride to be perched on Joshua’s lap as if it were a king's throne. Bob, the Labrador puppy, proudly showed off a pebble shaped like a fish, while the twin goats argued over whether Joshua could eat an entire stack of pancakes by himself. The little raccoon boy stared at him with those same wide, solemn eyes he had worn in the cart. Then, with extreme care, he placed a piece of his bread onto the wolf’s plate.

Joshua looked down at the bread, then up at the raccoon.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Samantha sat at the head of the table, her usual place, watching the scene unfold. The smile Joshua gave the children was incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to his massive, imposing frame.

She picked up her spoon and began to eat.

The wildflowers that had once bloomed in the jar were gone, leaving only an empty vessel on the sill. But the warmth they had brought her had never truly vanished.