Chapter 69: Prayers
The visitors were planning on staying four nights; it would bring them up to the longest they expected the whole thing to take, until their hurried pace put them ahead of schedule. High Hunter Bratik decided to stay the full duration to help out as much as he could, something that the pack was grateful for.
The first death Joseph’s pack experienced was just before the third.
A’lena, the female who had miscarried shortly before she decided to take up the pack’s offer, had arrived in the settlement with a fever, though no one had any solutions other than to give her what they had left of the purple powder to hopefully bring it down.
It didn’t help. It had a small effect at first, but that quickly became something that only took the edge off her pain.
Joseph had done everything he could think of. He moved her to the med-bay. He tried to give her what food she was able to handle. He helped constantly with whatever he could, far past the point of skipping sleep and swallowing his embarrassment at helping her bathe. He just didn’t want to lose someone who so desperately needed his help. He had promised her a better life here, and he didn’t want to betray her so quickly.
It was late in the evening, the sun nearing the end of its journey for the day. The scant beams of light allowed by the hexagonal skylights pierced her fur and allowed him to really see how sick she had gotten despite their best efforts. She mumbled, her words nearly incoherent between bouts of lucidity as her body burned away what consciousness she would otherwise muster.
He didn’t know what to do for her, her mate passed and child gone. All he could offer was company, the rest of the pack busy picking up the slack that he left with his absence and no one around that she could consider friend. He couldn’t find it in himself to think about it, he knew they would take care of the others. A’lena needed someone there.
Though he was far from fluent, he was starting to recognize some words that Jax had drilled into him, alongside what common phrases passed through the idle chatter around the base. He could parse the words for ‘pain’, ‘scared’, ‘alone’, and, on the odd occasion that she remained focused enough to notice him, a phrase that he couldn’t quite remember where he had heard before.
The words that fluttered out that evening were much the same as the ones before, grunts of pain and shivers that ran through her despite the regulator being set high enough to make him sweat from simply sitting next to her bed, her paw in his hand as he grit his teeth through stress and passing grips that threatened to crush his fingers. Her eyes glazed, the shivering stopped, and her breathing slowed. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since she regaled him the translated tale of her arrival.
Her gaze was steeled, yet somewhat at peace as he squeezed her paw and forced back his own overflowing sorrow. He tried as hard as he could to keep himself neutral, since anything positive couldn’t pass his mind. He didn’t want his emotions scarring her moments of clarity if he could help it.
Though the voice was raspy and weak, she said something to him, the words ringing in his head as she delivered them with the conviction that they would be what she left behind. His mind catalogued them, syllable by syllable, so that he would never forget the first mark of his failure. Words that he would learn the meaning of, if only to know what thoughts she was able to voice to the one who put her in this situation.
She gasped a breath, her speech failing and mouth moving silently until the last, each motion memorized as they passed.
He held her paw as the last strings of strength failed her, staring at the motionless female that he had only just met, yet had already began planning what he could have done to give her a meaningful existence within the pack. He felt himself grow numb as her loss refused to be processed by the hopelessly optimistic part of himself that wouldn’t accept failure. He felt so remorseful that nothing he could do could save her, so lost as the reality of this planet came crashing down on him in a way that any number of six-legged wolves or over-sized badgers never could, that he simply stopped thinking—a part of him waiting for breath to be taken and her eyes to no longer burn lifelessly into his own.
Although ‘healroot and Mantis spit’ could do a lot for injuries, they were useless against something that no one could fathom more than a guess over. They lacked any means of making medications or identifying which would be needed in the first place. It was something that didn’t cross his mind to begin with, always being busy with the next big crisis since he landed that the otherwise mundane threats failed to be a consideration.
It took a while, though he wouldn’t be able to guess how long. Eventually, Volta came in to do a routine touch-up, only to see him watching over the motionless female, her body cooling below even the slightest chance of life. She fetched the pack, Pan and Sahari kept away by Nalah as a precaution due to their bonds.
He could vaguely recall Jax separating him from the first departure he had experienced since the crash, but by that point he had fallen despondent, a muted sea of nothing as his brain shut down his emotions lest the stress caused by them do harm, and him lacking the energy to do more than exist.
She was wrapped in a large pelt that they had yet to process into anything more and transferred elsewhere, though he couldn’t say where. All he really remembered was staring at the med-bay walls where she would have broken his line of sight until he fell asleep where he sat.
The next day was a bit more coherent, though a deep yearning wished he had stayed dazed instead of working through what needed to be addressed next.
The question of funeral rites came to bear, Joseph asking what their people did to honour them. It was proposed that they would do whatever he felt appropriate, given his position. He denied, insisting that she would be given what was right for her by her own people.
The answer was a bit confusing, but he agreed anyway. Mi’low, apparently having some position of interest within their religion for some reason, was consulted for how things would proceed. She agreed without any fight, solemnly accepting her new duty quietly instead of kicking up any fuss about being asked to do something like he might have expected from her.
She asked for them to make a funeral pyre down-wind near the edge of the wall, far away from the other constructions. Joseph helped set it up, feeling it was only right to do so. It was a cremation of sorts, a large base supporting a smaller bed-like structure in which she would lay within her pelt. They would wait until dusk before lighting it, then allow it to burn until nothing remained through the night.
It came with a ceremony, though the only attending members were the few of the pack that were not tied up elsewhere and Bratik, the High Hunter exchanging a small nod as he respectfully watched. Pan was assisting Violet with caring for the servants, so he stood there alone, Tel being occupied with monitoring the visiting Blades.
A paw grabbing his hand drew his eyes to the shorter orange-furred female who had sought him for comfort, giving him a small amount of contact to ground him as she gazed upon Mi’low giving a speech before igniting the flames.
Though he didn’t ask for a translation, Harrow provided one for his benefit, keeping her voice quiet so as not to disturb the others.
It was a prayer. A brief retelling of circumstances, wishes, and a single request of their goddess to guide the soul to the Great Hunt—to use the smoke produced to obscure her from the Void and to prevent her from straying. To reunite her with her mate and kit, so that they might be together again. At the end of it, she asked him if he had anything to add. He found it odd in the moment, him never being much for religion of any type, but he felt that if something existed out there, in some nebulous way, then maybe it would listen.
He made a simple amendment to her plea. A safe home, so that they may raise their child in peace. Walls that would protect them from what may exist in their afterlife which would try to separate them once more. A shelter in which they may reside happily.
Though his words were repeated through Harrow, Mi’low’s gaze seemed to soften on him. It was a rare moment where the actress wasn’t doing anything of the sort. It was a genuine expression of solidarity, as if she had accepted his words as something expected, and she gained some peace of mind in him saying it. It was only an instant, but he noticed, the regard quickly shifting back to one of a disinterest in anything other than her current duty like always.
The short nod confirming that she had heard him preceded the fire, the flames seemingly licking the sky above them as the bundled Lilhun was sent off from the world, the smoke hopefully carrying her away to be with her loved ones again.
He watched the fire long past when the rest of the pack excused themselves, him only leaving long enough to fetch alcohol and a mug. He wasn’t much for drinking, though usually found it lightened his mood and eased social situations to a degree. Tonight, he was drinking to numb himself, because it was the only thing that he figured would stop his thoughts from straying too far.
He was five, maybe six drinks in, though he purposely mixed them weak to prolong what he had. He had stopped counting after that, since he really only planned to stop when the embers were all that remained. The pops and cracks of the oak warned him that he wouldn’t be able to mourn through the entire night, but he resigned himself to the end of it. To the moment that he couldn’t watch over her anymore, even what was left behind.
That’s what he ended up doing. Watching with a repeating wish that something out there would protect those who needed it, because he could only reach so far. Friends he had yet to meet. Family without their own. Children yet to be brought to this world by people who wanted nothing more.
He knew that others like Bratik existed out there. People who had the same dream of helping those he could, but lacked the means to do it. Those who were stunted by larger powers who reigned in their efforts with games of power and control. People who set about the same goals through destructive means, and those who claimed to, but wanted little other than more for their dominion.
Maybe some convoluted overlap between the options that restricted their methods was the likely circumstance. Maybe some misguided thoughts that unity through force would be the answer. Maybe some people just wanted to finish what the Union started and wipe themselves out.
It was all too much to think about for him as he finished off his drink, pouring another one as a slight shift in the wind made the smoke dance through the air.
For now? For now he would watch over this comparatively small fire, it being barely a speck of brightness amongst the miles and miles of nothing A’lena had travelled in vain hopes of something more. He would let his mind wander absently through what he could do to help any who might find themselves in need, what others of the pack would suggest, and what little power he truly had in the grand scheme of things.
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Mi’low sat down, her legs tired and voice raspy from commanding her pack. Though they had been doing their tasks effectively, they often lacked the autonomy to continue without her guidance, quickly looking to her for further instructions whenever their current objective was completed.
A wandering gaze across the expanding settlement landed upon the Grand Hunter’s pack, each carrying out their duties without their superior offering even the slightest of directions as he remained locked away within his own mind at the loss of one whom he had barely known and was not of his own kind to begin with.
It frustrated her to no end.
Though she was surprised to have him ask her to oversee the rites—and somewhat mollified to have his own additions be in line with his Aspects—his continued absence in leadership, and his passive demeanour when he was not, irked her.
He should be here personally ensuring that those now under his protection would continue to be so, instead of meaninglessly gazing into the flames of one they had lost. The female had barely passed his sight when his bleeding heart claimed her as kin, only for him to spend the moons at her side as she faded from the world.
What made the male function? Why did he seem to occupy both protection and violence?
Is it because he is an Essence, his Aspects split his temperament beyond comprehension? Was his kind so unstable?
The High Huntress fumed as she allowed her legs to rest, the slight burning abating with the tepid moon air.
Joseph was unreadable for her; one moment he was offering sanctuary with promise of prosperity, the next he was threatening all who reside under him. He set out on his journey to Trill’s with fear and caution, only to propagate his technology to his competitors. He sought servants, yet intended not to use their station for his pack’s benefit, instead wishing them unshackled. He prepared ruse for the visitors, only to lay bare before the High Hunter when aid was offered.
The Aspect of Smoke within her felt turbulent. There should be consistency within the male, yet nothing she thought true remained such, save for his propensity towards protecting his pack. Perhaps it was appropriate for The Guardian, but even such defences must follow rules.
She began antagonizing him quite some time ago, if only to draw out some form of reaction from him in an effort to parse his nature to some quantifiable degree, but all that had come of it was his mate ordering those Blades of hers to harass the High Huntress on occasion. Were it not for the slight smirk upon the male’s face after she had submitted her complaints, she would have assumed him unaware of the acts. As it were, he seemed perfectly content to allow her dissidence within his command.
He should be ordering her compliance, directing those beneath him, quelling unrest with his presence.
Yet he seems content as things are, her words mere ambience and actions little more than the idle fidgets of an unruly kit.
Perhaps a part of her was still expectant of his claim, her vassalage remaining naught but verbal agreement that was honoured by little other than his whim. Though she doubted he would expel her pack, it remained but a trivial wave of his paw until she would find herself beyond the protections he claimed to offer. At least if he were to follow through she would have some peace of mind regarding such.
A question to the Paw had confirmed that he had not properly undergone selections with any of his pack, though there was an argument to be made for the white-furred female by now. How they managed to trust in one whom would not lay their life at their claws in a state most undefended, she would never understand, but she felt the unease build with each passing sun as her understanding of the male failed to grow.
Mi’low watched idly as the den-kit exited the barracks with used bandages, placing them within a fire before returning to continue her treatments.
Such was another oddity of the Human who the High Huntress found herself wary of.
The Atmo, as she had learned, were yet another sapient race whom fell at the claws of the Union. Insects that found the male and instantly accepted him as kin, despite no requirement to even consider such. How the two species could connect so deeply perplexed her, something that was only compounded by how her pack were starting to reciprocate.
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Atrox had taken to the largest blue one, Mama, to a degree that one would expect him to were the female one of his own. The artist would constantly seek her company and take on whatever macabre project she seemed so willing to assist with. Whenever the topic was broached, he would do little more than sing praise of the insect, claiming to have found a kindred soul that he was elated to have the opportunity to meet.
The part of her pack that assisted Head Nalah had all began discussing the Atmo favourably, several conversations regarding their usefulness quickly evolving to small tales of humorous experiences involving them. A few had even began describing the kit as ‘cute’ and jesting that they would fight the wild beasts to defend her, though Mi’low was suspecting there was more than a kernel of truth that they had yet to acknowledge.
Even the Paw, as terrible as a stigma as her defect was, had become something of an accepted presence throughout the settlement, the last remaining distaste seeming to be Ferra and Astra, the two more perturbed with the female’s interactions with their mate than the condition that would usually draw such ire.
Her pack had changed since Joseph had taken them in.
The ‘war games’ had sowed a subdued, yet ironclad, respect between the two packs. Their suns had seen recreation after the Human displayed a game he called ‘checkers’, something that even she found insanity, given their circumstances. They were trying to survive on this planet, yet the pack had time to bicker over games and laugh over victory, their once ruling caution now only directed towards hunts and those whom did not reside within the walls.
It was something she wished for them, but was unable to provide. If he had accomplished such, why did it bother her so? Why did they seem so at ease within the confines set for them by a male that did not follow their traditions? Why were they slowly meaning the words of respect towards the alien that walked through the settlement, the odd ink-ball staining his clothing and skin, the sight having him being laughed at and ridiculed, only for him to return with a defeated smile?
Why was she the only one who seemed to wish him to adhere?
“I see that our venerable High Huntress finds herself at a crossroads,” a voice commented from her side. A flick of her ear confirmed that she was still aware enough to hear the slight rustle of materials being carried within proximity, so the unexpected presence could only be attributed to a few.
“Perhaps if your mate were to embrace his duties, I would not find myself in such.”
The grey-furred female exhaled in amusement, the shot of air multitudes louder than any other sound she made during her approach. “You just wish his heat directed towards yourself.”
Mi’low rolled her eyes, though the female being somewhat behind her ruined the dismissal. “I wish him here to direct his following instead of mourning one whom he had only just met.”
A familiar soft click resonated through the air, her voice remaining unchanged, though the subtle threat evident. It seemed as if the Blade had been armed for quite a while, likely due to the others of such calibre residing within the walls for now. “I fear it is not your place to decide whom he deems kin, High Huntress.”
The red-furred female waved a paw over her shoulder, the warning not disturbing her in the slightest. “He has called many to his territory with his wishes. Many will arrive in such states. He would do well to steel himself to those whom are unable to be reclaimed from the grips of the Void.”
“He wishes none to fall under him.”
“Yet they will, regardless of his desires. Loss is but one reality of a Grand Hunter. One which he must function in spite of. She was a servant, little more. Their contributions were negligible even before they came into his domain. He has more to concern himself with than her passing.”
“You think his kindness as a weakness, Mi’low? Recall that such is why you draw such breath in which to slight him.”
She turned to scowl at the female, finding nothing but empty air where the voice had originated from, the Blade having left as she had said her piece. Mi’low exhaled the breath she was planning to use to argue, quietly conceding that there was little chance of her initial confrontation being received as well as it was if she were to do as much to any of the other Grand Hunters.
The unease within her stirred, dragging her to her feet to confront the object in which it centred. It had been too long that she had poked and prodded to safely discern what drove the male. She wished to settle her concern.
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“Planning to stay merry in the face of death, Grand Hunter?”
The male glanced over his shoulder, his mug of alcohol sloshing only slightly as he raised a brow. He took a drink before returning his gaze to the waning flickers of flame. “I was wondering when you would break out the English.”
She frowned, expecting more than casual dismissal. “You knew?”
He snorted, raising his mug to find it empty before refilling it. “I’d say about half way to Trill’s?”
“You have known since the beginning?”
A slow nod was returned. “You backed off around then. Not much guesswork needed to figure out why.”
She walked up to his side, her eyes drawn to the peaceful remains of the ceremony. “Yet you did not mention it? You have no words of reprisal?”
“What’s there to get mad about? I figured you’d feel better knowing what was being said, given how you are.”
She shifted her regard to the subdued male, his words slurring slightly in a curious fashion. “And how might I be to the omniscient Human?”
A laugh barked out of him, a dry inflection mixing with genuine mirth. “I’m not all-knowing, Mi’low. I’m just some idiot that people trust to tell them what to do.”
“And you squander your authority amongst them without the slightest thought.”
A shrug was given, the obvious disinterest irksome. “They know what they’re doing more than me. Just gotta point them in a constructive direction.”
She felt the cool air on her fang, a snarl appearing without permission. “Yet your commands remain soft and pliable. You have yet to even utter a single one towards myself.”
The Grand Hunter turned his head to look at her, the blank stare was paired with a tired half-lidded gaze. “You do your job well. No need for me to fuck with your rhythm, even if I’ve been tempted from time to time. You can be a bit of a bitch.”
A growl worked its way into her voice as she closed the distance to jab a claw into his face, stopping the appendage just shy of making contact. “You are a Grand Hunter. You should be commanding respect and silencing those who dare speak against you.”
Joseph matched her stare with his own, the unperturbed expression stalling her steam.
She stood back up, the unconcerned male lazily following her with his eyes before moving them away after a moment. “Do you have no response?”
“Do i need one? You want me to do things your way. I don’t want to. Pretty sure my word wins out.”
“Then more will fall under your leadership.”
The words barely left her muzzle when the snap of cold stilled further criticism, the male tensing and gaze narrowing at the slowly dying fire. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you.”
The statement lingered in the air, the tension between the two palpable until Joseph exhaled, a sorrowful expression replacing the anger before it. He glanced over at her, his eyes meeting her own hurt visage before swiftly falling to the ground between them. “Sorry. I didn’t... That was a shitty thing to say.”
“What do you want from us?” she asked quietly, stung by the statement. The truth of his words made them burrow ever deeper than she could have been prepared for.
The Grand Hunter looked up with confusion. “What?”
Mi’low held her arms outward, dropping all but her most base form. “Our pack. Our people. What is it you seek to gain?”
He met her expectant stare, a long breath preceding his words. “I just want to help. I’m literally the only Human here, Mi’low. There’s no one for me to turn to. If it wasn’t for the Atmo and you guys, I'd have been dead a long time ago.” The male closed his eyes as he turned back to the fire, cinders being most of what remained. “Is it so wrong to just do what I can for you? Is it some taboo for me to want people to care for?”
“Then you will fail.”
He glanced back, the expression on his face crestfallen, as if he had assumed as much, but did not wish to give into the idea. “I guess I sh-”
“No.” She shook her head, letting the uncomfortable feeling of being so barren of masks wash over her. “You will fail because you do not use your power, Joseph. It is not something that was given to you out of convenience, your pack has entrusted you with their lives. Refusing to use what they have given you is what will doom them.”
The confusion on his face mixed with the slight sway in his seated posture. “How-”
“They exist to carry out your will now.” She emphasized her point by gesturing back towards the barracks. “It is a fate they have embraced, yet you refuse to lead them properly.”
“Things are doing fine.”
“Are they?” she challenged blankly. “You have invited many who will appear under similar circumstances; those who assume nothing but the worst because they can assume little else, your behaviour and platitudes at odds. You will lose more.”
A breath was cycled from the male, his exhale dying in his open mouth as he failed to rebuke.
She crouched next to him, her soft words strange, even for herself. “You are a Grand Hunter, and unless you are willing to display your station, others will continue to fear you more than if you were to act the likes of Trill. The greatest darkness rests within the unknown, and you shed no light with your actions.”
His defeated eyes looked back into hers, the silent plea remaining beyond the comprehension of her words. “What would you do?”
“I would show all what I intend for them.”
He shook his head, a wry smile lightly formed. “There are Atmo out there who need a home. Lilhuns who will continue to starve and get picked off until they manage to save themselves. So many people who lack what we’ve managed here. How do I help them?”
She stood, finding herself more at ease as she pieced together what the male wished, her long standing distrust dissolving somewhat as his uncertainty became a relatable portion of his being. “Become known.”
“Known?”
Her lips pulled into a sardonic smirk, mirroring his. “Embrace your Essence, Grand Hunter, and they will speak of you. Prove your protections, and they will seek you. Warn of your punishments, and they will hesitate to act against you. Build what will benefit them, announce what you offer, and give them a reason to fight for it.”
He snorted softly, his eyes drawn to the small glow of the embers, the fire finally perishing to time. “Tell everyone that I’m here, basically.”
She nodded, feeling comforted by the interaction. The male was a concept personified. Rip asunder those that sought to harm ones under his protections, and protect those who were in need of him. As simple as it was, it made accepting him much less inadvisable. “Will you lead them?”
He took a breath, getting unsteadily to his feet, a slight stumble being caught by a braced leg as he inspected what alcohol he had remaining. “Not much of a choice, is there?”
An amused chuckle escaped her muzzle, the shock of such a genuine reaction from herself stunning her for a moment. “If you wish to gather all within your walls, they must know where to find them.”
He gave a slow tilt of his head, internalizing her statement. She turned to leave, her steps lighter as the anxiety of dealing with the male had abated somewhat.
“Can you translate something for me?”
She paused in her stride, an ear turned to face him. “You could ask of much of any of your pack.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me.”
She faced him, a look of hesitation given to the hopeless one he donned. “I am known for little else within your mind, no?”
The Grand Hunter laughed dryly, his eyes falling on the remains of the glowing cinders. “Not about this... It’s her last words.”
She remained silent, only a subtle gesture of affirmation given before he recreated a passable, if heavily accented, account of the words he had obviously memorized by rote. Once he had finished, he looked at her with damp eyes, fear hidden behind the expectations. A long exhale through her nose accompanied the defeated shake of her head, a pivot on her pads following as she walked away.
“I fear not the Void that seeks me, for the Hunt Mother has sent us her Guardian, and I may pass knowing that she has not forgotten us.”
His small voice carried through the distance, acceptance and confusion in equal parts.
“Guardian, huh?”
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Nalah held her hopes with a gentle paw, hesitation and expectation in equal parts working in the back of her mind as she awaited Joseph to return.
Although Sahari had been so forward the other moon, there was almost a fragile thread restraining more from being allowed to happen. The female wished to gain the blessing of her bond before proceeding, not that Nalah disagreed. Joseph was the one whom even allowed the thought to be mused within the black-furred female. If it took his permission, Nalah would do anything requested of her to receive it.
The wait didn’t last very long, the moon rising high as the last shift of workers left to rest, the second barracks nearing halfway to completion. Though they had been busy with assisting the new members, they had pushed themselves to complete as much as possible in order to finish the project, something Nalah would not leave unrewarded once everything had settled down somewhat.
Joseph stumbled back into the populated portion of the settlement, his gait awkward and expression contemplative. Nalah reached out to stabilize him when his languid step was unable to catch his weight in time.
“Are you ill?” she asked, unsure what to think of the Human acting so strangely. The thought of him becoming as sick as the female he had mourned sparked a fear within her that surprised her somewhat.
“I’m good,” he slurred slightly, offering her a weak smile to mollify her. “Jus’ a little drunk. How’s things?”
“Fine...” she replied, unsure how to interpret the claimed status.
“Tha’s good... Ya know where Pan is? I need a ‘fluffy as fuck’ hug.”
Nalah glanced around as she tried to remember where she had seen the Paw last. “I’m not sure where she may be at the moment.”
“Ah. ‘s okay. What about Tel?”
“Apologies.”
“I see...”
His crestfallen expression pulled at her, it changing when she embraced him firmly herself. It took a few moments, but he returned it nonetheless, a slight tremble to his touch worrying her. “Would you like to talk?”
He nodded, separating with a breath. “I’m gonna do it.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion with the certainty in his voice that his eyes were slow to reciprocate. “Do what?”
“All of it,” he responded more firmly, tossing his arms to the side before they fell limply as he caught himself from the unbalancing. “Atmo, Lilhuns, all of it. I’m gonna help them.”
Nalah took a second to parse what he meant, her spoken thought interrupted by a voice she could listen to for eternity and never tire of.
“I see our Grand Hunter has imbibed alcohol again,” Sahari commented dryly, a slight worry to her tone evident as she approached from behind the blond-furred female. Nalah looked to her for elaboration. “Their people become impaired under its influence. I would imagine he was seeking refuge from within.”
Joseph raised a finger. “In my defence... No, that’s abou’ right.”
She hummed a passive note of disapproval as she changed topics. “You were loudly declaring your intent to assist?”
His eyes widened, as if it was the first time he had learned this information. “Yeah? Yeah! I’m gonna tell everyone that I’m here!”
“You intend to do such at this moment?” the ex-Grand Huntress asked as amusement filled her voice, his excitement seeming to add some to her own.
“Well, no, not right now... But, like, soon.”
She chuckled, the sound coming out like a melody of the Great Hunt to Nalah’s ears. “I believe you should rest off the effects before you do as such, Grand Hunter.”
“Joseph,” he corrected with a loose scowl. “Or ‘Joe’, either works.”
“I believe you should rest, Grand Hunter,” she repeated, an impish grin forming as she annoyed the male.
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Your bed, or mine? Perhaps you wish to tuck away amongst the buildings?”
He paused, blinking a few times before exhaling in defeat. “I miss when none of you could speak.”
Nalah found herself giggling at the exchange, the male smiling at her before his gaze moved to the space between them. “Oh shit, when’d that happen?”
She followed his eyes, landing on the paw that Sahari had began holding, the planner too preoccupied with the afflicted male to do much more than naturally accept. She felt a tinge of anxiety as she looked back up, meeting the expression of surprised elation the Grand Hunter. Sahari answered before she had the chance.
“We would like your blessing, Joseph.”
He glanced between them, his eyes clearing as he processed the meaning of her request before he lunged to wrap both of them within his embrace, a step being required from both to support the impulse of his surprisingly heavy form. “Fuck, I was waiting for this! ‘Grats! Who started it?”
Sahari eyed Nalah, the softness of her expression doing nothing to lessen the mischievous tint. “It was I.”
The Head planner felt a thunderous jolt to her arm as Joseph fired a punch into it, his jovial laughter implying that it had not been his intent to put so much force into it, though her limb still lost feeling after the shock. She made a small note to herself that the Human held back more than most would assume. “About fuckin’ time. I’m happy for you! Yeah, yeah, blessing. Fuck it, go nuts.”
His grin was replaced by a slightly remorseful expression as he considered something. “Suppose you’ll be sleeping in one of your rooms, huh? Shit. I got used to the pile.”
“Accustomed to feeling our forms? Your paws are rather fond of us, yes.”
His eyes widened with the implication, a heavy blush only accenting his scent of embarrassment that caused Sahari to grip Nalah’s paw tighter. “Wha’, no, not that.”
Sahari leaned in, the fun of flustering the male seeming to extend beyond Tel and the mated pair. “Oh? Do you deny you have done such?”
“That... I... Um...” he stammered, failing to gain enough traction to defend himself before he simply deflated. “Sorry.”
She patted him on the shoulder, laughing as she tried to keep the bashful lilt at bay. “Worry not, Joseph. We are aware you do not intend as much.”
“Not like I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted before covering his mouth, shocking the two females for a moment. “I think I should probably go lie down. Ya know, before I dig a hole for myself that I can’t crawl out of.”
Nalah spoke when it seemed that Sahari was too embarrassed from the bond to, the expression having the blond-furred female silently thank the male for showing her such. “Or before Tel takes offence.”
“That too,” he allowed with a wave of his paw over his shoulder as he turned to walk away. “I don’t want paint-balls in the bed.”
The two glanced at each other, knowing that Tel would likely do as much to show her displeasure. The shared laughter mixed with the slight relief they felt confirming that their Grand Hunter was supportive of their pairing. Nalah leaned into the black-furred female, the latter wrapping her arm around to pull the planner in tighter.
“Will he be okay?” Nalah asked, watching the male stumble away. Sahari took a deep breath.
“It will take time, but yes, I believe so.”
“And you’re okay with not being involved with your bond?”
The black-furred female nodded, squeezing her lightly in return. “I will follow him. That will be enough for me.”
“And I, you.”
Sahari looked at her, a warmth in her gaze that Nalah had assumed dead and gone since the moment they met. The feeling of the paw across her cheek preceded the light kiss, their foreheads resting against one another as acceptance of everything settled within their minds.
“I would like nothing more... Nalah... I...love you. I am sorry it has taken me so long to admit it, to entertain the idea that I was deserving of the same. Thank you for waiting for me.”
A choked laugh fluttered out of Nalah’s muzzle, dampness spreading to her fur as the feeling of thankfulness spread through her. “For so many years, I have dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too, Sahari. I always have. Once the saviour of my form, you have become what saved my soul. From now until far beyond the Great Hunt, my heart beats for you.”
The silence that followed was comfortable, no words needing to be said beyond what already was.
The moon itself seemed to light the area around them, bathing them within its protections.
Finally, Nalah could thank the Hunt Mother with sincerity.
Her prayer so long ago had been answered.