The late afternoon sun dipped lower, gilding the sprawling grounds of Dubois Hollow in soft amber light. The air was rich with the mingled scents of earth, pine, and the faint sweetness of blooming magnolias. 

Camille led Nadia through the commune on the back of her horse, Charlene, whose steady hooves kicked up little clouds of warm dust along the narrow dirt path. Around them, the sounds of daily life filled the air—children's laughter, chickens clucking, and the murmur of conversations in lilting Louisiana accents.

Camille's voice rose above it all, her tone as honeyed as her Southern drawl. "Over here we got the residential homes," she said, gesturing toward a line of wooden cottages nestled beneath sprawling oaks draped in Spanish moss. Each cottage was framed by gardens overflowing with flowers, herbs, and vegetables, their vibrancy a testament to the community's care.

"These here are for the families," Camille continued, a trace of pride in her voice. "Ain't no fences—you'll notice that right off. Everybody's got their own space, but we keep things open. Tight-knit like that. We look out for each other."

Nadia surveyed the scene, her sharp eyes taking in the balance of order and rustic charm. The gardens were meticulously tended, the homes cozy yet purposeful, exuding a sense of harmony. It wasn't the polished beauty of a suburban neighborhood, but there was something undeniably alive here.

"Seems like a well-oiled machine," Nadia remarked.

Camille grinned. "It's home."

As they rode on, Camille pointed out the event hall, its weathered wooden beams adorned with twinkling fairy lights strung along the eaves. Long picnic tables, mismatched but sturdy, sprawled under the wide shade of an ancient oak. "This here's where we hold our gatherings—celebrations, council meetings, what have ya. Sometimes we throw parties for the kids or potlucks for the whole Hollow. It's the heart of the place, I reckon."

The air grew richer with the smell of freshly turned soil as they approached the farm. Rows of corn stretched tall beside patches of squash and beans. Chickens wandered freely, pecking at the ground, while goats grazed nearby.

"This is the farm," Camille said with a sweeping gesture. "My sister Bernice and her husband Ashton run it. They're the ones keepin' us fed, and trust me, they're good at it."

Nadia raised a brow. "What about the rest of your siblings? I'm guessing everyone's got a job."

"Sure do. Pearl's in charge of the schoolhouse—she's got a knack for teachin'. And Lawrence, well, he's head of security. Nobody messes with the Hollow while Lawrence is watchin'." Camille chuckled, her tone affectionate but firm.

Nadia nodded, absorbing it all. "Your family really runs this place, huh?"

"We do," Camille said simply, her pride understated but unmistakable. "But it's not just us. The elders guide the big decisions, and everybody gets a say. That's what makes it a community, not a monarchy."

They passed the infirmary, a sturdy stone building partially hidden by a tangle of ivy creeping up its walls. Camille motioned toward it with a tilt of her chin. "That's my domain. I went off to medical school, learned everything I could, then brought it all back here. Couldn't let all that knowledge go to waste, now could I?"

Nadia gave her a surprised look. "Medical school? That's impressive. Guess I didn't peg you for a doctor."

Camille's smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping to Charlene's reins. "Didn't peg myself for one either, truth be told. When I was younger, I didn't wanna be a hunter. Hated the idea of spendin' my life fightin' monsters." Her voice softened, tinged with regret. "So I left. Thought I could carve out somethin' different for myself."

Nadia tilted her head. "And yet, you chose a path where you still help people."

Camille let out a soft laugh, though it held no humor. "Guess helpin' was always in my blood, whether I saw it or not. Got married, thought I'd build a quiet little life far from all this." Her voice darkened. "Then my husband got turned into a vampire. I tried to save him, but... the hunger was stronger than the man I loved. Had to put him down myself."

The weight of her words hung between them, the silence punctuated only by the soft rhythm of Charlene's hooves. Camille exhaled sharply, her tone resolute. "After that, I came home. Took up the infirmary. Turns out, the place I was runnin' from was the only place that could heal me."

Nadia nodded, her respect for Camille deepening. "Seems like you've found your way."

Camille's smile returned, faint but genuine. "I reckon I have. I'm no hunter, but I pull my weight. Teachin' the kids, tendin' to the folks who get hurt—it's just as important as swingin' a blade. Gotta keep things balanced."

They crested a hill, the sparkling expanse of the lake coming into view. The water glistened under the golden light, its surface so still it looked like glass. Camille gestured with a wide smile. "This here's where we fish and catch our crawfish. Best spot in the whole Hollow if ya ask me."

As they rode back toward the heart of the commune, they passed a playground where children squealed with laughter, their voices carrying through the evening air. "Those three over there are my nieces," Camille said, tipping her head toward a trio of girls chasing each other around a swing set. "Bernice's two, Charlotte and Gabrielle, and Pearl's little one, Savannah. Cutest troublemakers you'll ever meet."

The girls spotted Camille and waved enthusiastically. She returned the gesture, her face softening with affection.

"You got kids of your own?" Camille asked, glancing sidelong at Nadia.

"Nope," Nadia replied, shaking her head. "You?"

Camille chuckled, her grin turning wry. "Not yet. Mama's still holdin' out hope, though. She's got plenty to say about it, trust me."

Nadia smirked, thinking of Irene. "Mothers and their matchmaking."

"You ain't wrong," Camille said with a laugh, nudging Charlene forward. 

As they rode down the dirt path, the golden hour sun cast long, slanting shadows across the sleepy commune. Nadia caught sight of a modest two-story house with a wraparound porch. 

The whitewashed siding was freshly painted, and a line of ferns hung from the porch beams, swaying gently in the humid breeze. It had the kind of homey charm that felt deliberate, almost like an invitation. On the porch, Austin and Madison sat side by side, the girl's posture stiff and guarded as she rocked slowly in a wicker chair.

"Hold up," Nadia said, gesturing for Camille to stop Charlene. "Over there."

Camille pulled back gently on the reins, the horse snorting softly as it slowed to a stop. Her eyes followed Nadia's line of sight. "That them folks you helped with the vengeful spirit?" Her accent rolled warmly over the words, drawing them out like syrup on a summer morning.

"Yeah, that's them," Nadia confirmed.

Camille clicked her tongue, nudging Charlene toward the house with practiced ease. As they approached, Nadia dismounted first, her boots crunching against the gravel drive. Camille stayed astride for a moment, her sharp eyes studying the pair on the porch.

"Madison, Austin," Nadia called, stepping forward. "This is Camille. She's Walter and Claire's youngest."

Camille slid gracefully from the saddle and tipped her wide-brimmed hat. "Pleasure to meet y'all," she said, her voice warm but measured. She kept a bit of distance, her instincts clearly picking up on Madison's unease. "Welcome to Dubois Hollow. Hope y'all settlin' in alright."

Austin shifted in his seat, his arm cradled protectively in its sling. "We're grateful to be here," he said sincerely, his voice tinged with exhaustion but genuine. "Thank you for the help. We wouldn't've made it without y'all."

"Don't mention it," Camille said with a small smile. Her eyes flicked to his injured arm. "That spirit's doin', huh?"

Austin nodded. "Yeah. Got tossed around pretty good. Thing's been achin' somethin' fierce."

"Well, I can take a look at it for ya," Camille offered. "I run the infirmary here. Ain't nothin' fancy, but I got what I need to patch folks up."

Austin glanced at Madison, who was staring resolutely at the ground. "That'd be great, thank you."

"I'll stay with her," Nadia chimed in, her tone light but reassuring. "She can show me around while you're gone."

Austin hesitated, his eyes darting toward his daughter, but when she gave a small, indifferent shrug, he nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Nadia."

Camille grabbed Charlene's reins, her grin easy. "C'mon, we'll get you fixed up."

As they walked off, the soft clip-clop of hooves fading down the road, Madison let out a dramatic sigh, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Please get me out of here," she groaned, her tone dripping with teenage exasperation.

Nadia raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the porch railing. "What's the matter now?"

"It's hot, it's humid, and everybody's scarily nice," Madison shot back, glaring at the idyllic surroundings as though they'd personally offended her.

Nadia couldn't help but laugh. "You do realize where you are, right? This is the Deep South. Southern hospitality comes with the territory."

"I hate it," Madison muttered, scuffing her sneaker against the porch step. "I wanna go back to Bobby's. Or anywhere but here."

Nadia fought the urge to roll her eyes. To an outsider, Madison's reaction might seem like typical teenage drama, but Nadia knew better. The girl had been through hell—losing her mother, nearly losing her father, and now uprooted to a strange new place. It wasn't just resistance; it was grief.

"Come here," Nadia said gently, sitting on the porch steps and patting the spot beside her.

Reluctantly, Madison joined her, her movements slow and reluctant, like the weight of the world was dragging her down.

"I get it," Nadia began, her tone soft but firm. "This is a big change. And yeah, it sucks. But you've gotta give it a chance. At least for a few days. This isn't forever—it's just to get you and your dad back on your feet."

Madison stared at the ground, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I was supposed to graduate early," she mumbled. "Start college. I had a plan."

"And you can still do all that," Nadia reassured her. "This place doesn't have to be the end of anything. It's just... a pause. That's all."

Madison glanced at her, skepticism written all over her face. "Easy for you to say. You're leaving."

"Tomorrow," Nadia admitted. "But hey, you can call me anytime. I think I've more than earned your trust by now."

Madison huffed, reluctant but amused. "You're not wrong."

"Damn straight," Nadia teased, nudging her with her elbow. "Now, c'mon. Show me around."

Madison rolled her eyes but stood up, gesturing toward the house. "I got my own bathroom," she said, a hint of pride creeping into her voice.

"Fancy," Nadia replied with a grin, following her inside.

The house was simple but cozy, with polished wooden floors and a faint smell of fresh paint. Madison led her to a small but tidy room at the back of the house, complete with a narrow bed, a desk, and, indeed, a tiny adjoining bathroom.

"Look at you, all grown up with your own en-suite," Nadia teased.

Madison rolled her eyes again but couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. "It's not terrible, I guess."

Progress, Nadia thought with a smile of her own. Small steps.

The evening air carried a crisp coolness as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Dubois Hollow commune. Inside the event hall, the aroma of a crawfish boil mingled with the lively sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and animated conversation. The space was lit with the warm glow of string lights strung across the rafters, their soft flicker adding to the atmosphere of camaraderie.

Nadia sat at a long, hand-carved wooden table beside Bobby, surrounded by members of Camille's family. At the head were Walter and Claire, the patriarch and matriarch of the commune, with Camille and her sisters, Pearl and Bernice, flanking them. Their husbands, Ashton and Lawrence, filled out the rest of the group. The Dubois family wasn't just a family—they were the foundation of this tightly-knit community.

The table was a feast for the senses, laden with platters of steaming crawfish, bright red and glistening with seasoning. Mounds of corn, potatoes, and smoked sausage sat alongside bowls of rich jambalaya, the aroma of spice and garlic wafting through the air. A few bottles of Louisiana hot sauce sat scattered among the dishes, their labels faded but well-loved.

Bobby leaned over to Nadia, chuckling under his breath. "Told ya they were a rowdy bunch," he said, his voice low enough not to interrupt the conversation.

Nadia grinned. He wasn't wrong. The Dubois clan was loud, their laughter echoing across the hall. Their Louisiana accents, thickened by familiarity and good humor, made their banter even more endearing. The family dynamic was as vibrant as the food before them, with playful jabs and teasing traded across the table.

Camille, seated across from Nadia, gestured enthusiastically with her hands, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now, Nadia," she drawled, holding up a bright red crawfish. "Lemme show ya how it's done. You can't be in Louisiana and not learn how to peel one of these beauties."

With a practiced motion, Camille twisted the head off, set it aside, and peeled back the shell to reveal the tender meat inside. She popped it into her mouth with a satisfied smile. "See? Easy as pie."

Nadia didn't hesitate to give it a try, mimicking Camille's movements. The shell gave way under her fingers, and she managed to extract the meat without too much trouble. "Like this?" she asked, holding up her prize.

"Exactly!" Camille cheered, clapping her hands together. "Now just pop that in your mouth and savor it. That's real Cajun flavor."

The first bite was a revelation—spicy, tangy, with a boldness that made Nadia's eyes widen. "Wow," she said, reaching for another. "That's incredible."

"Stick with me, and you'll be a crawfish queen by the end of the night," Camille teased, winking.

Across the room, Nadia's gaze landed on Madison, seated at a smaller table with a girl around her age. The two were chatting and laughing, Madison's guarded demeanor finally giving way to something lighter. Her father, Austin, stood nearby, deep in conversation with the other teen's parent. The sight warmed Nadia's heart. After all the upheaval in their lives, seeing Madison smile was a small but meaningful victory.

A shift in tone brought Nadia's attention back to the main table. Walter, his deep voice cutting through the lively chatter, cleared his throat. "Nadia," he said, his tone measured but serious, "we'd like to have a word with you after dinner. Back at the house."

The table quieted slightly, all eyes turning to Walter. Even the usually boisterous Camille paused mid-peel, her hands stilling.

"Bobby mentioned somethin' that's comin'," Walter continued, his gaze steady. "Somethin' big. He says it's tied to what you and your boys have been workin' on, and we need to know what's headin' our way. Gotta make sure the people here are ready."

Camille's brow furrowed as she exchanged a glance with her sisters. "What could be comin'?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Before Nadia could answer, Claire placed a hand on Walter's arm, her voice calm but firm. "Not here," she said, her dark eyes scanning the room. "Not at the table."

Nadia nodded, exchanging a brief look with Bobby. "After dinner," she agreed.

The tension eased, and conversation gradually resumed. Claire, ever the gracious hostess, turned to Nadia with a smile. "Camille told me you've got a beau. A hunter, right?"

Nadia smiled, a hint of pride lighting her features. "His name's Dean."

Pearl, who had just cracked open another crawfish, grinned. "How long y'all been together?"

"About six months," Nadia replied.

Claire's expression turned thoughtful. "Y'all thinkin' about marriage? Maybe startin' a family?"

The question caught Nadia off guard, but she recovered quickly, her smile softening. "We haven't really talked about it," she admitted. "Right now, we're focused on... well, everything else. But we've definitely dreamed of a quieter life."

"Geez, Mama," Camille interjected with a laugh. "They haven't even hit a year yet!"

Claire waved her off, undeterred. "A hunter's life ain't guaranteed, Camille. Sometimes you settle down quick when you find the right person. Ain't that right, Walter?"

Walter chuckled, his rough hand resting over Claire's. "That's true enough."

"How'd y'all meet?" Nadia asked, eager to shift the spotlight.

"Oh, Lord," Bernice groaned, dabbing her hands with a napkin. "You've opened the floodgates now."

"Don't listen to her," Claire said with a laugh. "She loves this story." She leaned closer, her face lighting up with fondness. "We met on a hunt down in Florida. Both of us after the same shapeshifter. He was the most arrogant, headstrong—"

"And devilishly handsome," Walter cut in, grinning.

Claire rolled her eyes, though her smile widened. "Fine. Handsome. But we butted heads like two bulls. Both of us carrying our own grief, both too stubborn to admit we needed help."

"And by the end of that hunt," Walter said, his grin softening, "I knew she was the one."

Claire's cheeks flushed as she playfully swatted his arm. "We came back to Louisiana after I found out I was pregnant with Bernice. Decided to stop lookin' for a home and build one instead."

Nadia smiled, touched by the story. "And look at what y'all built. It's amazing."

"Thank you, sugar," Claire said, her gaze softening as she looked at Walter. "It ain't always been easy, but it's been worth it."

As the conversation shifted, Nadia's mind wandered briefly to her own relationship with Dean.