Chapter 118: Behind The Mask
Arguing near the gate wasn’t what Joseph wanted to see—much less between Robert’s security and his own. Sahari was doing her best to mediate and translate the two sides of the conversation, but it was pretty clear that ‘compromise’ wasn’t on the itinerary for those involved.
“Look, if there are threats out there, then it’s my damn job to put a cone of buckshot into it. Give. Me. My. Gun.”
“Your weapons are forfeit during the occupancy of the Grand Hunter’s domain,” Sahari tried to explain politely, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that her patience was running thin. “This is standard procedure for those sheltering within our walls, I assure you.”
The hunter acting as temporary security growled, making a comment about ‘respecting your betters’ which the Head thankfully omitted from translation. That didn’t stop her subtle nod from asserting her own views, however. Just as Joseph was about to sort the issue out himself, a click and familiar voice called for him, careful not to pull too much attention.
“Joe, over here.”
The Grand Hunter glanced at where the request came from, seeing Rob, Sil, and Violet watching the argument with varying degrees of worry. The Martian seemed mostly annoyed that there was an issue, while his soon-to-be-wife fluttered her feathers and slowly rocked from foot to foot anxiously as she watched. Violet was the odd one out, her hastily scratched sign asking why there was a problem in the first place.
Robert read the tablet, grimacing as he tried to break down a complex answer into something a child could understand, but Joseph walked over in time to pat the Atmo’s back and take the reins.
“I’m guessing someone asked why we were gathering near the gate, got an answer they didn’t like, and decided that they’d feel better about it if they had their guns back. Right?” he supplied, raising a brow at his brother. Rob nodded sheepishly.
“Yeah, Steve and the rest take their job seriously.” The man paused thoughtfully. “Actually, he would have started a bigger mess if we were anywhere else. He means well, but being surrounded by armed aliens on an otherwise uninhabited planet sets him on edge. I understand where he’s coming from.”
“They’re not all armed,” Joseph refuted blankly, thumbing at one of the curious pack members. “Most keep a knife or something on hand, but that’s just because they need them often enough for it to make sense. The only ones who have a gun or something all the time are security or the girls. Everything else is tucked away for when it’s needed.”
Silva chirped a disapproving note. “Don’t be stubborn, Joe. Rob’s been keeping them playing nice, and you know what we mean.”
The smirk cracked his attempt to stay serious. “Sorry, I do. I figured that was the case, anyway.”
His hand reached up to rub at his neck as he thought it over, watching the human security get more and more irritated with the constant denials. Even Sahari was starting to leverage her height to be more imposing, which wasn’t going to end well for anyone—not while neither side knew how rough they could be with the other. Sighing, he dropped his arm, a two-tone whistle calling one of the Wraiths.
“Yes, sir?” Faye asked, surprising everyone with how seamlessly she had blended into the group without notice. Two silently patrolling moss-wolves escorted the pup, sitting with weary stares and awaiting orders while keeping the little one in line. Given none, they contented themselves with keeping an ear trained on the Wraith, scanning the area with their eyes and a paw stopping the pup from wandering.
Joseph blinked, wondering if she had foreseen him calling for her and decided to slip in somewhere nearby, or if she really had got that good at dropping in on demand. He shook his head to dismiss the pondering, smirking when the young wolf sneezed and got a glare from its adoptive parents.
“You can give Rob’s security their guns back. I’d say we’ve all proven that no one is going to cause an issue—they had their chance with the surgeries. Try not to scare anyone into using them, I don’t want ‘bullets’ added to the list of wounds everyone has.”
The deep gold-furred female bowed, a playful smirk tugging ever so slightly at her lips. “It will be done, sir.”
The engaged pair watched as Faye wandered off before disappearing around a corner, the wolves dutifully following. Silva waited a beat, moving to peer around the building and shooting looks between the group and where the Wraith was mere moments ago. The Grand Hunter shrugged lazily at her bewilderment.
“You get used to it.”
“So, how long is it going to take for that to happen,” his brother asked, cautiously observing the disagreement as it became something of a metaphorical dick-measuring contest between the two involved—though the black-furred female had an edge in sheer stature. The increasingly irritated pack around the dispute didn’t bode well either.
“The guns? Not fast enough for me to avoid an uninitiated human discovering just how hierarchical the pack is without intervention. The fight about to break out? Depends on who hits first, and if the rest decide it’s not something to be solved via one-on-one.”
[Is Sahari going to be okay?]
Both brothers’ annoyance subsided as Violet held up her message, the nervous tapping of her legs against the ground punctuating how distressing it all was for her. Her focus flicked between her father and one of the females that had become part of her family. She was itching to do something. Anything to stop someone else she loved from coming to harm. The begging beneath the uncharacteristically imprecise scrawling tore at Joseph, and evidently, Robert as well.
Rob cycled a breath, exchanging a nod with the younger sibling. Without a word between them, they marched off to stop things from going further.
“Sahari, calm down. They don’t work using our rules,” Joseph called, getting turned ears and reluctantly covered teeth in return. Her claws retracted with a brief delay, height increasing as her tail rose to her back—a measure of shame crossing her visage once he was close enough to scent.
“Steve, I will get the boys in the lab to make your beloved ‘boom stick’ into a jigsaw puzzle that you need to assemble between shots,” the elder Wright scorned, matching his brother’s tone. “And no corner pieces.”
The black-furred female and considerably smaller human glared at each other before uttering their own affirmatives, stepping back from the confrontation.
“Boss, it’s been long enough without a weapon to use in case shit goes south,” Steve protested, getting in one last glare at Sahari. “We agreed because of who owns this place, but having unknowns involved changes the equation.”
“An equation that is none—“
“—Sahari, can you do me a favour?” Joseph interrupted. “I need someone to grab some tea for me, but the girls are busy. Can I ask you?”
She relented, giving him a pitiful look. “Of course, Grand Hunter.”
“Thanks, Sahari. Sorry to bother you.”
The Head sighed, noticing Violet nervously watching from a distance. Her expression softened. “I suppose I should ask the den-kit for assistance as well?”
He gave a warm smile, thankful that the bond conveyed the nuances a lot better than he could do so verbally. He tipped his head in agreement. “Yeah, I think she’d like that.”
“Then I will return when it is ready, Joseph.” She clasped him on the shoulder, leaning in and bringing her voice to a whisper. “Perhaps we could arrange some joint sparring? I would very much like to test our skills against them.”
He smirked at the playfully malicious tone, unable to keep the agreement out of his response. If nothing else, he could see how his pack stacked up against other humans—he wasn’t a professional combatant, after all. “I’ll think about it.”
Another pat signalled her continuing on her way to manage a task that wasn’t expected to be completed, Violet joining Sahari as they walked towards the den.
“Joseph,” Steve prodded, getting a hum of acknowledgement from the Grand Hunter watching his daughter leave. “I really don’t want to be getting into fights around here, but we need the tools to do what we’re paid to do. I understand this place hasn’t had a great time with new people, and that you’re effectively providing your own security for us, but if something happens and we can’t respond to it...”
He tilted his head to concede the point, finally looking back. “The girls were told. You can expect them back once they have the chance. Shouldn’t be long.”
The man looked like he wanted to argue the point further, but stifled the words, accepting it for what it was. “Alright...”
“Anyway,” Joseph drolled. “There’s people waiting to talk to me. We all done pissing in the wind, or am I going to have to ask you guys to wait back at the ship?”
“Should we worry?” Robert asked, eyeing the collection of Lilhun security checking their weapons. For the blatant dismissal he was given, he didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he looked more concerned by the show of force loading their guns or nocking bolts in crossbows, swords and the like being freed from sheaths for inspection. Some were standing with the plasma-casters at low-ready, their gazes fixed outward like a wall of sentries. The absence of a certain red-furred female had Joseph scan around, but she wasn’t in the area as far as he could tell.
“The girls can manage it by themselves,” he admitted with a shrug. “Everyone else is here to make sure it’s obvious how bad of an idea it is to start something. Has Mi’low been through here?”
The Martian nodded, unconvinced, but accepting his assurances. “She stopped by to say sorry just before you got here.”
Silva trilled slowly, leading into her question with a hesitant lilt and using her wing to motion towards the pack. “How often have you been required to make this display?”
Joseph dragged himself out of the shock that came with picturing the High Huntress doing anything remotely resembling an apology. He only needed to dig through his memory for a few moments before he gave up on counting, exhaustion weighing down his expression for just thinking about it. “Often enough that it’s routine.”
“Then they’re combative by nature?”
He paused at the genuine inquiry, taking a second to look at the tilted head of the blue-feathered Trilaxin. A glimmer of scientific curiosity lit up behind her eyes. “I’d say yes, but as long as you respect the rules, they’re quicker to invite you over for a night.”
The recognition on Rob’s face told that he had either received such offers already, or others from his crew did. Kind of impressive, considering the lukewarm welcome. Silva buried her beak into her wing in a crude reflection of holding her chin in thought. “A very physical culture in general, then. I wonder if it extends past their socializing.”
He sighed, gesturing to the gate and deciding that he could run the question gauntlet on his pack later. “You have no idea. I need to stop stalling; I have a lot of pull in this situation, but anything past this is just going to piss them off.”
The avian chirped her acknowledgement, too busy mulling over idle pondering to do more than that. Rob reached out to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You okay without a weapon? I don’t want you to—“
“—I’ll survive, promise,” Joseph assured, patting the push-daggers that never left his hip. It was hardly a shotgun, but there were also four or five Wraiths that would put a hole in anyone who tried something. He separated, stretching out and taking a few lazy steps back. “Just to be safe, the pack will get you out of harm’s way if something comes up.”
“Should I pray to the local deity?” Rob asked cheekily.
Joseph turned, heading towards the gate and waving over his shoulder, his voice a mixture of resignation and sarcasm. “Didn’t hear? I’m the closest thing, apparently. Wouldn’t hurt, though. Maybe a little divine intervention will stop the headache this shit gives me.”
The snorted laugh did little to mask the Martian’s worry, but being the Grand Hunter as long as he had—and needing to employ the position as often as he did—left Joseph with a sense of calm as he walked past the Lilhuns bowing their heads to him in greeting. Since most were those who usually followed Mi’low more directly, there was an absence of the playful or casual interactions which were common with Jax and the security force proper. It felt a lot more stiff than he was used to, but things could be worse, he supposed.
The clearing outside of the gate came into view as he approached. Sure enough, a group in ratty attire were standing a careful distance from the settlement, a single male keeping a paw on his sword while staring down the previously-missing High Huntress a dozen paces away. The hunters parted to allow their leader passage as he walked through the large exit, Joseph straightening his posture just a touch. Standing too straight was a sign of subservience, but standing confidently translated pretty well. It was a bit awkward to keep track of, but still something useful he had picked up during his time with the species.
He barely got half way when the glaring male noticed the Grand Hunter, a flicker of caution flattening his ears. He gave one last scathing glance at the crimson-furred female before nodding in acknowledgement to something said quietly by his group. The female behind the male eyed the Human, giving a similarly terse greeting and huffing dismissively at the actress.
“The Grand Hunter, I presume? I suppose even an alien would be a better alternative to this one.”
Joseph exhaled a short breath through his nose, crossing his arms once he got a few steps past Mi’low. She was doing her usual thing—that is to say, being completely unreadable. There might have been genuine anger behind the stern stare, but given the circumstance, it could have just as easily been discomfort caused by her injury. She let the comment pass uncontested, in either case.
“Sorry I’m late. Needed to sort out some cross-species cultural differences.”
The expected surprise at a human leading the pack didn’t appear on the female’s face, even when he showed that he spoke the language passably. She kept a controlled image instead, carefully phrasing her next words. “We are hardly in a position to discredit the efforts of one such as yourself. It is enough that you have agreed to meet.”
He hummed a skeptical note at the change in tone. “What can I do for you? Not every sun that someone shows up, practically unarmed.”
The armed male’s eyes shifted to the High Huntress as he rested a paw on the pommel of his sword. Their representative—the female apparently in charge—took a step forward, placing herself closer to Joseph than Mi’low while giving a disdainful scowl to the latter.
“We have come to offer ourselves in service to the pack. Being led by one such as yourself is unexpected, but acceptable.”
The Grand Hunter blinked. “What?”
“Our settlements have been razed, our kin are fighting the enemies kind enough to join them in the Great Hunt, and we returned to our leader to find naught but broken bones and a punctured skull.”
Joseph lifted one arm off his chest, loosely raising his index and bouncing it as he thought. “You’re from the other packs that got taken out. Then you were under Hasen, right?”
A collective of gazes deflated, though the female’s grew sharper. “Indeed. There were more, but we have succumbed to the wilds over time. Whatever may have happened to him, we are without that in which to protect us.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“So you seek shelter,” Mi’low chipped in, her voice one notch above vitriolic. “Was disregarding my instruction not distasteful enough? Was falling under the one who slaughtered us by the many not to your standards? You thought it prudent to come begging like you once refused?”
A vicious snarl growled out from the new female. “You are not the one we seek, failure.”
The exchange left Joseph with his mouth open, caught just before he could respond. His eyes danced between the two, piecing together what he knew. “You’re one of the ones who left in the winter. Before she came here. A Head.”
“One who obviously failed to heed my warning,” Mi’low added dryly. The female glared at the actress for her comment, pointedly huffing while turning her attention to the Grand Hunter.
“We set about claiming stability with our own paws after our...previous leader...proved her incompetence by not only allowing our dens to fall to cinder, but let the fool responsible live.”
The High Huntress moved to speak further, but Joseph’s raised hand stopped her. He shifted his weight onto one foot, letting the silence linger for a moment.
“Well, she’s here and healthy,” he commented finally, gesturing to Mi’low and ignoring the injury that technically went against his statement. His eyes shifted back to the group. “So is Heralt. He’s quite busy repairing our armour, actually.”
The ex-Head’s ear twitched, but she kept the diplomatic facade. “I am sure you have found great utility in him, high one.”
Something about the way she carried herself bothered him. Maybe it was the insulting comments rubbing him the wrong way, or how quick she was to ditch previously stated opinions if they contradicted his own, but it felt like talking to a far less subtle Mi’low. Well, Mi’low, if she valued kissing ass more than pestering him.
The whole group struck him as off, actually. The sly looks to each other, the glances to the security by the gate... Based on how the one holding the sword kept one ear pivoted to their speaker, he would say there was an expectation for something specific.
“You were going to join Sunundra, right? What happened to that?” he prodded, one hand reaching for his daggers. Their unconventional size and shape disguised the act well. “What about the others?”
“Dead,” she stated flatly. A shift of her gaze belied both regret and simmering rage. “One is. The other, I can only assume.”
Mi’low flinched, taking a step forward. “Kearu?”
A snarl met the slip of concern, the previous Head extending her claws threateningly. “You do not get to feign compassion for those you ignored! She is gone because you were lacking—both as a Grand Huntress, and as—“
“—From what I know, she sent you off with food and supplies. You agreed to it. Why are you here?”
“Because someone slayed our only chance at salvation,” she snapped, stomping past the male with the sword and stopping once several weapons from the walls flicked up. The female glowered at the security before making an effort to conceal her teeth. Slowly, she turned her focus to him. “Three Grand Hunters remained standing. Once they were subsumed, we would have true power and agency, free from the military’s fruitless searching and suffocating orders. We could strike down that which sought our blood and bathe in theirs, unbidden by authority from places unseen—from those unmet. Yet Hasen lies lifeless, and you allow this one a position she is too incompetent to serve.”
“She’s been critical to everything I’ve done here,” he stated flatly. His eyes scanned the trees, failing to see any sign of the girls. They’d long since become proficient in tucking away, so he would just trust that there were a few guns trained on the group. “It’s because of her and the pack she brought that we’ve done as well as we have. You call her a failure, but I call her my High Huntress. If I didn’t respect her freedom, I’d have her be a Head as well. She’s far from falling short of my expectations, she exceeded them.”
The female stood straight, eyes narrowed. “Then you are as big of a fool as she is. I pray you can not breed such stupidity with your own kind, let alone ours.”
Joseph stared her down, nodding. His fists clenched hard enough to pop the knuckles before he exhaled carefully, forcing the anger to melt down his shoulders. “You can go now.”
“What?”
He waved a hand towards the forest. “You can go. You’re not welcome here. Trill is eight suns west. Have fun.”
“Fell our leader, then not take the spoils?”
The Grand Hunter turned, a scowl appearing until he met Mi’low’s stunned expression. The sheer shock seemed odd, but he supposed he did just sing her praise to someone out loud. That, or she was surprised to hear they knew who killed Hasen, and that they had gone out of their way to track him down.
He faltered in his step, speaking over his shoulder. “If you mean you, then yes, you’re spoiled—or rotten, more accurately. I’m not poisoning my pack with your self-important shit and manipulative mind games. There’s a shelter north-east from here, it’s not far. You can stay there and gather supplies. We’re willing to trade game for equipment and clothing for the trip to Trill’s, if you’re in need, but you have no place within my walls.”
“You would leave those you left den-less to die at the claws of beasts?”
He joined the High Huntress’ side, reaching out to urge her back to the settlement. “I told you where to go, and where you can stay to prepare. I’ve done enough. Come on, Mi’low.”
The crimson-furred female’s eyes met his own, flicking to the ex-Head, then back. As rare as it was, he could almost pick out her actual emotions. Guilt weighed on her regarding the female before them, concern showed for one whose fate remained unknown, and sadness grew for the one who died. They were all people she had trusted. People she spent a night with, bare of weapons and surrendering herself to their claws.
As much as he personally didn’t quite get the whole ‘sleep with people you put in charge’ thing, he had it explained to him once or twice. If you were going to be killed for power by someone, there was hardly a more appropriate time than the throes of passion. Having the defensive female he had come to know put that much faith in someone else made the betrayal and rebuke she was feeling that much more relatable.
She flinched under his touch, but allowed him to turn her away from the group, her gaze lingering as pain—both emotional and physical—manifested through a grimace.
A ring of sharp iron was met with the muted crack he was forced to listen to during both incursions. He snapped his head around to see the female stumble and fall, the sword she had pulled from the male’s sheath flopping to the ground with her lifeless body. A hole through her chest spilled crimson across the golden grass, soaking into the dirt.
The rest of the group were the very depiction of fear and confusion—clearly not expecting him to have snipers, or for their representative to try something on her own. His glare gave the warning for him as Mi’low’s claws dug into his skin, her paws wrapping around the arm on her shoulder as she processed what she had witnessed. The group started leaving, the promise of further violence understood as they hesitantly abandoned their fallen representative and the sword she failed to use.
“Greia...”
He only barely heard the whisper from the crimson-furred female, laden with a mixture of emotions that were snuffed out and pressed down as fast as they had surfaced. She stared at the body, closing her eyes as her lips trembled. He stayed with her quietly for the minutes it took her to sort through her thoughts. With a long breath, she rejoined the moment, looking towards subtle movement in the brush across the clearing. He followed her line of sight, making a mental note to talk with her again later.
Three groups left the cover of the forest, their paws held clearly in view, their faces terrified.
It should have been because they were covertly watching someone get gunned down, or maybe because each had one of the Wraiths casually sauntering behind them with firearms levelled at their heads, but the source of their fear seemed to be...
Him.
With a bit of prodding and quiet arguing, one male was selected as their sacrifice—well, their representative, but he couldn’t exactly blame them for treating the position like that. The last person to take that role was only a few feet away.
“Y-you are the Grand Hunter?” the male stammered. Unlike the others, everyone that reluctantly approached was genuinely unarmed, and more than a little conscious to keep their claws firmly tucked away.
Joseph tipped his head towards where the others had left. “Friends of theirs?”
“N-no!” he denied quickly, panic in his voice. “We...we were with Hasen, true, b-but not because we wished to be!”
Mi’low kept her grip on his arm as he turned to face them properly—silently participating, though clearly distracted by her own ruminations. He cycled a slow breath, the scent widening his eyes. It was there, but faint from the days since it had been applied.
Peppermint.
“You were the ones who surrendered.”
The male nodded quickly, almost unbalancing himself. After a moment, he raised a claw, hesitantly lowering it as confidence lost against trepidation. “It would be more accurate to say that we knew the end was nigh. Upon praying for leniency, we were spoken to by the very agents of the Void that sowed our demise.” He glanced at the Wraiths aiming guns at them, relaxing somewhat. “’Those who do not seek to harm his fortress need not fear his claws.’ We were scared, holding those dear to us after so long fearing punishment for our reluctance to siege and plunder...”
The male’s head lowered as he recalled it, looking back up with a defeated smile. “We were tired of the wars. Of losing more and more. We had a chance to start over here, but as soon as we could find solace in the small settlements we occupied, they were taken, replaced with only the promise of conflict...or suffering, should we refuse. Hasen demanded us all to take what was left, but luckily, we were chosen for logistical support. I suppose such is why we were able to witness what became of those who struck against the wishes of the Hunt Mother.”
Joseph stayed quiet, letting everything pass over him as the faint peppermint permeated from all of their fur. He had watched as the girls faltered in their rampage, but Tel was the one to tell him that some were spared. His argument at the time was cut short by her letting him know that there wasn’t a single threat left behind from the forces they encountered. It bothered him to think there was a chance that some would come back for them—an outcome that still existed, it seemed—but the certainty in her voice convinced him.
Even if this group wasn’t directly subjected to his cold rage, they watched while he calmly walked amongst the corpses, too far gone to do more than itch for vengeance. He didn’t need to guess why they were all scared. Still, they gathered and approached, stuck hoping that the words given to them by the skull-masked assassins weren’t just a setup for more death.
“Why were you hiding?” he asked softly, the day’s events wearing him down.
The group collectively looked ashamed as the male deflated. “We saw the others come here and wished not to be known by them.”
“Worried they’d try something?”
“We were fearful that our last hope would be little better than the last,” he admitted wryly, gesturing to the fallen female. “The group and...that one were often selected to besiege smaller settlements of the Low and High Hunters. They returned with viscera and rapture. Rarely remorse.”
“She wouldn’t... She wished to be free as much as any of us,” Mi’low murmured painfully. The male smiled in understanding.
“I know it must be hard to belie—“
“—He did something to her!” she barked, the grip on Joseph’s arm tightening. Her own expression faltered as pain passed freely. Her voice lowered, defiance replaced by weakening hope. “Do not besmirch her merely because she can no longer refute it.”
The Grand Hunter stood still, unsure what to think of Mi’low looking so lost, so betrayed as she fought with herself, reality clashing with what she knew. He glanced at the evening sun, then back to the group. Most of their apprehension was gone now, giving way to solemn gazes that viewed the High Huntress with pity and empathy. People who had probably been through similar struggles seeing yet another facing the trial. He took a breath, letting his lethargy show.
“It’s getting late for this kind of thing. As long as you’re fine with being under surveillance and tight living quarters for a while, you can stay in the guest section of the Hall,” he decided quietly, holding up a finger when their elation started to overtake them. “I’m warning you, there are four species here. Lilhuns, as you can see. The Atmo, insects in a similar situation to yourselves... Then there’s humans and Trilaxin; both of us are members of the Union, but we don’t support what they did. The same as none of you wanting what Hasen pushed you to work towards. We didn’t know what happened until recently, and we’re trying to help where we can.”
The male became the target of several worried glances, his hesitation evident. He chewed his lip as he thought, unprepared to be the de facto leader of the downtrodden that selected him. With equal parts resignation and hope, his eyes met the Human’s.
“Will we be accepted after all that has happened? We’ve spilled no blood, but much may still be attributed to us. We fuelled those that sought the end of others, blinded by the faux promise of freedom given at the cost of many. Those that enslaved the insects you mention to be used as mere tools...”
Joseph’s answer caught in his throat, exiting him as a muted sigh while he waged a mental war against himself. To help the very people that hurt others like Mama and Violet... Considering he personally tore apart the last bastion of stability they had—no matter how horrid the provider—could he really judge people who were forced to follow orders? People who would be beaten or neglected, then sent off to suicidal incursions if they didn’t listen or performed poorly? Could he really place the people fearfully loading carts in the same category as those striking the young Atmo to get the adults to comply, just because one supplied the other?
He nodded, using his free hand to motion towards the gate. “No one’s paws are completely clean, but as long as you try to make the lives of the pack better and right any personal wrongs, then you’ll find peace here. As much as I can offer, anyway. We can sort out the details sometime next sun.”
The male’s voice cracked, his eyes wide and terrified. “It’s over? We will not spend restless moons knowing we are behind more of our kin joining the Void? Will blood no longer be shed for our efforts?”
Joseph paused, averting his gaze. “We defend ourselves. If you can live with that, then yes, it’s over.”
The male fell to his knees, tears dripping off his fur, his strength leaving him. Several others rushed forward, their own reaction not being much better as they joined him in the display. A lithe female approached the Grand Hunter quietly... No, it was probably better to say she looked to have been starving for some time, but she wore her gaunt figure with a grateful smile regardless. She spoke in quiet tones, her throat raspy and struggling to produce the sounds required.
“He was the Paw of his settlement, high one. He has…spent many moons…searching for a way to provide for those who sought his aid—to honour the wishes of his mate before he joined her in the Great Hunt. Forgive him, for this place is...much closer than he would have ever known. To hear that salvation was but some suns away...”
Joseph nodded as he watched wordless prayer slip from the male’s lips, eyes closing and allowing weeping to become audible.
“Girls, can one of you let the rest know to ready the Hall?” His eyes fell to the fallen female that Mi’low listlessly stared at. A pang of guilt passed through his chest. Not because they had to kill someone else, but that it had to be someone Mi’low obviously cared for. He didn’t want to be the reason she had one less person she thought she could trust. “...And we should clean up out here, too. We can give a proper funeral after everyone’s settled in.”
The Wraiths holstered their weapons, following their orders while Raine set about encouraging everyone towards the gate. With the way everything played out, the security let themselves relax, dismissed with a nod of Joseph’s head as they took on new roles in preparing for the additions. Some even came forward—others who had been in similar situations before—to help reassure the group.
A hunter paused as they caught sight of one of the males, the two staring before charging towards the other. It seemed that the Grand Hunter was the only one surprised when the two collided, gripping and holding each other through cries of relief and joy. From what he could hear, it sounded like they were siblings who got separated around the time Joseph offered other packs a place to send the people they couldn’t support. Another couple did something similar, though slightly less dramatic in execution—friends finding one another after so long apart, den-mates reuniting tearfully.
Joseph moved to join them and explain to his brother what was happening, but the resistance served as a reminder that Mi’low was still attached to his arm, silently fixated on the passed female. He rested a hand on her shoulder, switching to her muzzle and directing her eyes at him. He let go once she focused.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There is nothing to discuss,” she denied a bit too quickly, allowing one last glance before finally noticing that she had been cutting off blood flow to his arm. Fresh crimson trickled out as her claws left the punctures he hadn’t paid much attention to, though the sting still made him wince. Her mouth closed when words failed to come out.
He examined the wounds, sighing as he accepted that stitches would probably be a part of his evening, given that he was asked not to let the pack lick any cuts. At least until the doctors had the chance to study how Lilhun saliva affected human injuries. It was still better than being run through with a sword. Well, for him, anyway.
The amendment to his rumination had him abandon thoughts of convenient spit, his attention returning to his company. Mi’low avoided looking at him, flinching when he patted her back.
“Come on. I need this patched up before Pan or someone sees it, and you can apologize by getting sewn up too.”
The High Huntress resisted his light push, but caved after a moment, grumbling as she allowed his hand to guide her onward. “I need not subject myself to their tools.”
“Sorry,” he chuckled weakly. “You did this, and I need you to be your normal levels of ‘pain in the ass.’”
Regardless of how annoyed she looked—and how forced his flat attempt at humour was—she did as told, earning curious looks from the pack as Joseph informed a few people of what was going on. With the Heads busy and most of his usual runners still recovering, the others were more than happy to be relied on to complete the trivial task, spreading the news to those who would be going elsewhere. He figured that everyone would know soon enough.
They stopped by where Robert was waiting, explaining the events to a worried human and displeased Trilaxin. Silva just chastised him for turning his back on someone with a weapon, while Rob tried to smooth things over further with Mi’low, once he was sure everyone was okay. From the brief conversation, she really did make a detour to apologize after talking with Joseph, and took the second opportunity to thank him for assisting her pack. The whole time, her voice was quiet, devoid of the cocksure attitude and sarcasm they had come to expect from her.
Maybe it was just him, but she looked like she needed some time alone to process everything, so he made his excuses and headed off to the ship to get both of them fixed up. He opted to stay and offer idle conversation while Mi’low had her wound disinfected and closed correctly, thanking the doctors as they left the medical tent.
Faye made a trip to let him know that there were no issues while getting the new group settled away in the Hall, and that food preparations were all but completed. He patted the High Huntress on the back when the Wraith left to take care of a few things.
“Want to join us? I get if you want to eat alone and think—trust me, I’ve been there—but you’re one of us, you know? I get we’ve...had our moments from time to time...” He faltered, struggling to phrase himself in a way that didn’t come off as insulting. The sigh dismissed the concern as he switched to English. “Fuck it. Mi’low, you don’t need to be a bitch and act like I’ll take everything away if you slip up, or berate you over nothing at the drop of a hat. I think you know that by now... Just...you’ve been through a lot. Hell, we’ve been through a lot…”
He fell quiet, letting her walk ahead a few steps. “I guess I’m just letting you know that I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I'm sorry that…someone you knew…was involved today. I know it’s not much, but if you want, there’s a table with a spot for you anytime you want it. You can stop by for a bite, play a game with someone, or even just hang around and talk without all the layers you usually keep up. Say the word, and I’ll make sure no one lets the rest know there’s something actually under that sandpaper you pretend is your personality…”
She stared at the ground, letting the waning sunlight highlight the edges of her fur. “You speak too much, Joseph.”
He grew a small smile, closing the distance and giving her shoulder a squeeze before passing her, turning to walk backwards towards the den. “It’s up to you. Bring Kelth if it makes things less uncomfortable—we can all make fun of the cactus queen falling in love.”
Her eyes snapped to his weak grin, her reflexive anger softening. With a wordless nod, she headed off, leaving him to his own devices.
He didn't expect her to take him up on the offer any time soon, but with the events of the day still painfully raw in her mind, he hoped that just knowing she had somewhere to go—a place where she can drop her guard and actually be herself—will ease the silent suffering she would opt for otherwise.
Either way, he’d keep a spot at the table for her.