Chapter 79: Need
“Grand Hunter!”
Joseph flinched as Harrow’s grip grew tighter on his arm in response to Jax’s proximity, the worry that the male felt increasing her own through their bond. “Jax, I want you to set up a double shift for the patrols for a few nights. You’re on first watch.”
The male slowed in his steps, concern clear in his expression as he glanced at his mate. The orange-furred female seemed so fragile as she clung to the Human, her eyes distant with building panic. His hesitation eased when Joseph gave an apologetic smile. With an exchange of nods and a pained furrow of his brow, the Head of Security turned on his pads and set off to arrange what was requested.
Harrow started calming down again as he gained distance, the bond’s influence proving to be a detriment for the moment. The Human was thankful that Jax seemed to understand why he was being sent off, but it still felt shitty to tell a man he couldn’t see his partner for a bit. Hopefully, Harrow comes around to herself by the time his watch is over.
“I will bring Bratik to the medbay,” Sahari informed him, the healroot on her arms covering the small cuts Harrow had given her. The ash-furred male on her back was still out cold, his breathing somewhat laboured, but steady enough for now.
“Alright. I’ll have one of the girls let Mi’low know and have someone from her side of things take over treatment for the night.”
She gave a grunt in response before heading towards the den, Nalah following suit. Though the disapproving look the ex-Grand Huntress gave him had faded on the way back, she was still worried about his injury. The second glance over her shoulder told of her hesitation to leave him be, but there were more important things to take care of.
It took a breath until he turned his head to look back at Tel, the grey-furred female purposely keeping back several paces. She was flanked by two of the girls, Faye and Kaslin, while Scarlet and Raine were making sure the few...survivors had actually left the territory.
He had evicted the contents of his stomach as soon as Harrow had calmed down, the temporary distraction welcome for what it was. He was going to have a hard time sleeping, that much was obvious to him. He was just feeling lucky that the shock of the whole event had numbed him for the moment. Seeing Tel bathed in the blood of the ones who tried to kill Harrow was an unsettling image to follow it up, though.
She must have noticed something on his face when he finally looked at her after getting cut, because she had made a point of not being near him since. Though it was true that he baulked at merging the assassin before him with the sultry and playful woman he had grown so close to, it was no excuse to feel that way about someone who had literally just saved his life. Even if he didn’t want to openly admit that the method she chose was probably the only option.
“Kaslin, Faye,” he called out after a breath. “Me and Tel are going to go wash up. Can one of you go let Pan know we’re back and should be in soon? The other should go ask Mi’low to send someone to look over Bratik for the night.”
“As you wish, sir,” the two responded with a bow, each heading off in their respective directions without so much as a glance to determine who was doing what. Tel stayed where she was, her eyes fixed to the ground between them. He stared for a moment, thoughts churning through his head that never stayed around long enough for him to actually process them. He let out a long sigh when she started fidgeting under his gaze.
“Come on, we’ll use the bathhouse so we don’t get blood all over the base.” His attempt at going there was stifled by Harrow still holding his arm, the slight jerk backwards straining the gash along his back. Although it was a long cut, the armoured coat did its job, catching the blade and preventing it from going too deep. Still bled like a bitch though, and was limiting his movement more and more as his body shook off the waning cocktail of endorphins that prevented it from hurting in the first place.
Shifting his gaze down to the despondent female, he noticed more than a little of his own blood staining her muzzle as her eyes pleaded not to be left behind. It made sense why Jax seemed so worked up, Harrow looked like she had spent the better part of the night coughing up blood, rather than lapping it up in a frenzy. Not that he was going to fault her for doing it, the clotting properties actually helped quite a bit, apparently. Although the mood wasn’t right for the jokes, he suspected there were going to be quite a few regarding Jax and Harrow’s tongues once she got enough rest to feel like herself again.
Although he should have more questions about why she reacted the way she did, the way she desperately cried for him until she was sure the bleeding had stopped and he was within reach spoke to something more about her past that he wasn’t privy to. The cry from her soul when he quietly reassured her in her own tongue had actually brought him to tears as well, but for the sake of getting everyone home he had ignored them. There would be a time when he could hear why she had gotten so worked up, but for now, she just needed him for some reason, and he could put aside his hesitation for a while for that.
“You too,” he included, noticing that she had no intention of separating at the moment. A soft tug was all the motivation she needed to quietly follow along. Tel’s eyes followed the two, but she quickly averted her gaze when he looked at her, her own footfalls happening after a beat.
Though most of the pack was active, seeing most everyone return safely—and not in any rush to do anything in particular—had allowed things to wind down a bit. The few idle glances they did get were quickly dismissed when Joseph corralled the other two into the bathhouse.
Starting by checking the temperature of the water, he removed his coat, hissing when the odd fabric liner inside stuck to the edges of the healroot that Nalah had pasted onto his wound while Tel held Harrow back. The wince from the grey-furred female carried the same sense of self-loathing that he noticed on Tersa’s face when Toril made a point of showing off his injuries. Though Joseph had suspected that the Blade was ashamed to have allowed any harm to come to the chemist, Tel’s reaction to his own injury solidified that hypothesis.
“It’s not your fault,” he reassured softly as he worked off the shirt, Harrow keeping one claw hooked into his pants as an anchor as she remained silent.
“It is my duty to protect my Sheath,” she replied tersely. “I have failed.”
“You did protect me,” he countered with a momentary glare that weakened as he recalled how she went about it. His stomach turned, a swallow being required before he continued with a loose wave to the female attached to him. “I got this by protecting her. That’s not on you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, a simmering anger abating as she gazed at his drained expression. “You were fearful under my protection. One does not simply leave their duties derelict without punishment.”
He snorted weakly as he gestured to the bath. “Lots of things scare me, Tel. I was worried about you and her getting hurt. Right now, you getting sick from all of that in your fur is the biggest fear I have. ‘Punishment’ can wait.”
She glared at him until she closed her eyes and started removing her assorted equipment. He made sure they had some excess shampoo and set it out for her while he set aside a bucket for himself and cupped some water in his palm. He raised Harrow’s jaw with his fingers, her eyes focusing on him after a small delay.
“I’m going to help you wash off the blood, okay? Then I want you to head in and get some sleep.”
He grimaced when she shifted from merely tethering herself to him to actively digging her claws in, fear growing in her eyes. A careful hand adjusted her paw so that he wouldn’t end up with more medical attention being required tonight.
“I take it you want to sleep with us again?” he asked, ignoring Tel’s somewhat pained frown. Harrow hesitantly nodded. He took a breath, holding it for a while before letting it out. “Fine, but you’re getting that off you before it gets too hard to remove.”
Though it might have taken longer than he would have liked, he eventually managed to scrub out Harrow’s fur. Luckily, it seemed that she had calmed down enough to accept going on ahead while he stripped off the rest of the way and used some water from a smaller basin to work the sweat off his skin.
It had been quite a while since he had sat down and used a rag to wash up, the last time being right after his father had passed and he was still trying to get stable. The memories dredged up more unpleasant times of when money was something that disappeared into debts, disposable income feeling like a pipe dream that seemed further and further away.
He snapped out of it when he felt Tel’s paws gingerly grabbing the rag from him so she could work on his back, the female noticing it would be too painful for him to do much himself besides what he could easily reach on his front.
“I’m sorry,” she voiced softly.
“It wasn’t your fault. It’s not that bad, anyway. Just going to hurt for a while. Might need some help with things while it heals up. I’ll find out after tonight, I guess.”
Her movements paused for a moment, the pads of her thumbs tracing along the outside of the healroot. “They lured me away. I should have sent the others and remained by your side.”
He sat quietly for a moment, the tender touch having nothing in common with the single-purpose weapon she had been earlier. He didn’t even humour the idea that the three she had killed could have been let go to turn a new leaf. They had tried to kill Harrow. They almost did. If it wasn’t for Faye’s reaction, he might not have noticed the sword in time.
Tel’s paws wrapped up his chest from behind, her body lightly pressing into his back sending a dull sting through him. The contact made him realize his knuckles were white with anger, his jaw sore of the intensity it was clenched. He felt her paws slip off his chest, her claws reluctant to release the touch.
“I await my punishment.”
He blinked, the unexpected declaration stalling his mind from thinking further on the matter. A glance over his shoulder revealed his grey-furred girlfriend sitting on her ankles behind him, her eyes closed and a dagger presented for him. He felt his anger flicker, the feeling abating when he saw the subtle shake in her paw.
“I’m not punishing you for something that was just as equally my fault,” he managed. “I put Harrow at death’s door because I was more concerned about bringing Bratik back than I was about keeping a tight guard.”
“Your safety should have been assured,” she barked, her teeth snowing with the snarl. The aggression faltered as her eyes met his, her gaze shifting to the floor. “It is our duty... My duty...”
He grimaced at the sting as he turned to lean forward, a hand resting against her cheek. She looked at him with uncharacteristic hesitation that barely outweighed the smouldering lust underneath. He had forgotten about that side effect...
The look of apprehension switched to surprise, then surrender as his lips met hers, her eyes closing as she allowed the affection. He rested his head against hers when they parted, his thumb lightly passing over her fur.
“Your punishment is letting Harrow take what time she needs,” he finally decided. “I’m not sure what happened back there, but it’s pretty clear she wants to be around someone who cares for a bit, and Jax would just work her back up until he calms down.”
“I hardly see that as suitable,” she complained quietly, a yearning tone present underneath.
He gave her one last peck as he sat up straight, clenching his teeth as the pain settled in. “Then help me wash off. This is going to get worse before it gets any better.”
“What of your pain killers?”
He snorted, rolling his shoulder to determine how much movement he had. “They’ll take the edge off, but I can’t go too heavy on them.” He sighed as he closed his eyes, wondering how long it would take before he could move properly again. “Sucks that we don’t have anything else.”
The touch of pads on his outer thigh accompanied the light brush of fur on his lap, his eyelids opening to see Tel nuzzling into him with a determination on her gaze. A paw rounded to his hip before going lower.
“I can ease it for now”
“Tel, I’m too beat up.”
“Then don’t move.”
He let out a muted gasp at the new sensation.
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His eyes opened slowly, pain radiating from everywhere, though less than he would have expected. Memories returned in spurts; sending Sorren ahead, the loss of his group, the pain of being impaled by both arrow and sword... The Wraiths...
Soft weeping to his side had him blink, his neck stiffly shifting to look to the source though the haze of his waking. A male Lilhun in surprisingly well tailored clothing sat next to the bed, his patchwork black and yellow fur peeking out from the edges of the fabric, his eyes closed as he mumbled scripture and prayer between steadying breaths.
A cursory sweep of Bratik’s gaze revealed the interior of a building he had never seen before, its construction foreign yet familiar. The hexagonal skylights and large window behind him lit the room well—almost painfully so for his tired eyes. His clothing had been removed, a thicker pelt given to him to preserve his modesty, dimly glowing healroot currently covering many of the wounds he remembered, as well as some he did not.
Movement out of the corner of his eye near the door caught his attention, a dark red-furred female in servant attire bearing a tray of refreshments entering the room.
“I will fetch a high one,” she explained after laying the tray on a simple table, a subtle glance afforded to Bratik before she bowed and made her exit. Sorren furrowed his brow until he noticed his mate was conscious, his expression lighting up in an instant.
With a little more care than was likely required, the priest jumped to his feet and draped himself over his mate, his muzzle nuzzling into Bratik’s neck.
“I thank the Hunt Mother that you have awoken.”
Bratik tried to lift his left arm to soothe his mate, but the appendage refused to comply. He weakly settled for his right arm instead, stroking the exposed fur with his paw. “I take it we are...”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“With the Guardian,” Sorren completed with a restricted nod, not wanting to separate from the ash-furred male.
Bratik managed a weak laugh, an uncomfortable sensation in his chest reminding him of the light puncture. “I breathe?”
“They used a quill to reinflate your lung when it collapsed.”
“What of Hasen?”
“The previous High Hunter has been driven away,” a new voice called into the room, both Bratik and Sorren parting enough to see Huntress Pan in the doorway. She thanked Scarlet before sending her off. “It seems his forces were but a fraction of his pack. They have since begun moving west, away from the settlement and away from our territory.”
Bratik swallowed, a glance to his mate being given before he addressed a painful question. “What of the others with me?”
The Paw smiled weakly, though the apologetic look in her eyes told of the answer before she spoke it, a paw gesturing to Sorren. “They have joined the Great Hunt, save for the two who accompanied the acolyte.”
A bitter expression crossed his face as he clenched his jaw. “I see.”
“But,” she continued, her voice soft and reassuring, “some of our pack have retrieved the departed and have given them a proper funeral.”
The ash-furred male felt his pain ease—if only slightly. “You have my deepest gratitude.”
Huntress Pan shook her head. “I was merely awaiting my mate’s return. If you wish to thank anyone, it would be him. He gathered and sent his to assist as soon as he heard.”
Bratik laughed, wincing at the full-body movement. “I owe him yet another debt, it seems.”
“No.” A paw rested atop his own, Sorren’s relieved expression remaining. “I do. The male has given me my mate from the clutches of the Void, and seen those of our kin safe in the Great Hunt.”
The soft chuckle from the white-furred female was covered by her wrist, her posture relaxing. “I will be sure to send along your gratitude, though I wish I could assure you a fulfilling life as well,” she lamented with a gesture to the ex-High Hunter’s legs.
Bratik looked down and lifted the pelt to observe what she meant. Both of them being splinted was something he would have expected, but the difficulty even bending them was discouraging. “It seems I will be of little use for the pack.”
An alien voice resonated through the room, Grand Hunter Joseph walking to the doorway as Huntress Pan stepped to the side to accommodate his entrance. Head Harrow allowed the male to drape an arm over her shoulder, her own being used to assist the male in standing.
“He wishes to assure you that he has some ideas to assist your mobility and potential employment within the settlement,” the Paw translated. “Though he does apologize for being unable to assist your kin.”
“Don’t,” Bratik insisted as he regarded the obviously injured male. “They were strong people who gave their lives with a purpose. Though I wish them to have been saved as well, not one of them would regret their sacrifice.”
He paused, allowing a breath and mournful smile. “I can not say that I am more deserving of the life you have given back to me, but I will carry on so that they have not fallen in vain.”
Grand Hunter Joseph returned the sardonic expression, limping towards the ex-High Hunter with assistance from the orange-furred female. He reached out and patted Bratik on his uninjured shoulder, a light squeeze given. “Your life is your own, Bratik. We just made sure you kept it a bit longer.”
Sorren glanced between the two with tears in his eyes. With a final smile to his mate, the male stood, directing his question towards the Grand Hunter. “Forgive my impertinence, but I was informed that you have created a small place of worship?”
The male winced as he attempted to raise his arm towards his neck, sighing as Head Harrow helped ease it back down. “It’s not much, but it’s there for those who want it. We might build something dedicated later on, but we’re tied up for now.”
“That is no matter, the importance is in its existence,” Sorren assured. He took a breath with closed eyes before opening them, his expression resolute. “If you would have me, I would like to lead the faithful along your path. I was skeptical of my mate’s claims, but it would be folly to question the will of the Hunt Mother.”
The Human paused to allow translation, though the raised brow before it was given suggested he understood some of the words.
“My path?” he asked after a brief delay.
“I wish to be the priest of the Guardian,” Sorren explained blankly, his ear tilted. “You are its Essence, it would hardly be suitable to have an acolyte of other disciplines within your domain.”
When there was no translation given, and the expression of the two females grew pensive, the male took a breath, repeating the word he was caught up on.
“Guardian?”
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Pan stirred when she reached for the body she had grown accustomed to cuddling recently, finding empty air where the grey-furred female would normally be. Frowning—and still fairly groggy—she opened her eyes and sat upright, her sight bleary and unfocused. Blinking away the vestiges of her unwelcome wakefulness, she glanced to the rest of the bed.
She smiled in relief to see that Joseph had returned, Harrow curling inside his arms like they were a protective shell being something she had gotten used to after the incident. Jax would come to retrieve her once his shift was over, but she had become rather attached to the Human while her mate was unavailable.
She would like to say that it was just the company that the orange-furred female sought, but there was no hiding the guilt that plagued her as she helped Joseph with whatever tasks he wished to complete, save for using the restroom... Not that she didn’t offer, much to the Grand Hunter’s chagrin.
No, there was something else underneath the culpable image she had of herself as she shouldered the weight of her friend and his countless struggles to do much without exacerbating his injury, but the Paw was unsure exactly what.
She would suggest that there was perhaps a more emotional connection than the female wished to share, if only because Harrow still made it rather apparent she held no qualms about bedding him. If it was because she simply wished to, or it was merely a slightly too involved tease, Pan could never say. Either way, Joseph didn’t seem to mind the banter, so the white-furred female chose not to mention the suspected sincerity behind the jests.
As for her contentment with the return of her mate, that came from his rather vocal outburst once he had assembled those in the den after Sorren requested permission to represent his Essence during sermons.
It wasn’t an unexpected reaction—his distaste for being elevated socially due to his position was rather well noted—but perhaps discovering that he had gained something of a religious significance amongst the devoted was something they should have broached before he was able to parse the words around the topic himself.
Nalah had avoided passing along Mi’low’s reference to the information during her and Joseph’s first encounter, and any subsequent mentions had been omitted for the sake of not bringing the subject up during their more important interactions, but it came at the cost of never finding an appropriate time to alert him to it.
Things being as they were, the Human had blinked as he slowly removed his arm from his orange-furred helper, then proceeded to let those in attendance know exactly how displeased he was about the prolonged absence of transparency. It had gotten to the point where he explicitly demanded to be left alone before wandering off into the settlement.
If it wasn’t for Faye not being directly included within his order, the female having been attending to other matters during his outburst, Pan was sure Tel would have incapacitated Jax when the male stopped her from following him instead of passing along her wish to the newly-dubbed Wraith.
Due to their mate currently nuzzling into the back of the overly-attached Harrow, it seemed that he had calmed down enough to return. It was a relief in many ways. She wasn’t sure she wished to feel the mixture of betrayal and guilt so strongly again.
It was painful to wish to console him, yet also be a part of the reason he was so incensed to begin with.
Taking a moment to collect herself to wakefulness, and smile at his sleeping murmurs that seemed to slip into butchered Lilhun, she removed herself from the bed and exited the room, carefully closing the door behind her so as not to wake her mate.
She eventually discovered Tel sitting upon the roof of the den, her absent twirling of her quill proving to be a bit of an anxious habit. It was only once Pan had crested the top of the ladder that she was addressed.
“Rest, Pan. There is little need for both of us to be away from him,” the grey-furred female sighed out without turning to acknowledge the new visitor. Pan ignored the request, taking a seat next to Tel and resting her head against the lithe shoulder.
“I believe Joseph would likely reply ‘I am missing my favourite pillow.’”
Tel snorted, though the weakness of it told of her wandering mind. “I have been elevated beyond our male?”
Pan’s tail swished lightly behind her, the female’s mention of the Human as ‘their’ mate becoming an increasingly common occurrence since Tel and Joseph had confirmed their affections.
“No, but he is often my warmth and my shelter,” Pan replied, a smile forming on her muzzle. “Perhaps he would be my favourite blanket?”
The grey-furred female chuckled, her quill ceasing its continuous rotations. “I fear I spend much of my rest being both.” She glanced down at the Paw. “Though it seems I have been reassigned recently.”
Pan feigned innocence, knowing that Tel would likely toss Harrow out of the bed if it meant assuming her usual contact with their mate. The white-furred female was much less strict about those whom Joseph allowed in his rest, especially when the one who was invited was someone who seemed terribly distraught without the opportunity. The fact that Harrow was in turmoil due to her own assertion as the reason for the Human’s injury was only another reason that Pan simply waited for the space to be vacated before occupying it herself.
It had become a reoccurring expectation for the orange-furred female to spend some of each moon asleep near Joseph, though Tel’s patience with the arrangement seemed to be waning. Luckily, the irritation with Pan offering her own embrace as a temporary salve appeared to be mostly for the purpose of expressing her discontent with the displacement, rather than any distaste for the contact she offered. Pan found herself rather content to cuddle into the other female who brought her mate such warmth, and even found it rather pleasant, though it was best when the male was fully involved. She had grown rather used to having Tel occupy the upper portion of the bed, but she supposed she would rather be within the arms of the grey-furred female while she awaited her mate’s to be free.
Pan’s expression turned to one of concern as she watched Tel begin to spin her quill again, the female’s mind wandering. “May I ask why you are not resting?”
Tel flinched, the object she had been fidgeting with dropping from her paw and rolling off the gentle slope of the roof. She watched the item disappear from the edge before producing another from somewhere on her person. It took a few moments before Tel chose to speak, but the tone she took when she did felt far less guarded than usual.
“He was repulsed. I slew his aggressors and, for a fraction of a moment, he was disgusted by me.”
Pan looped her arm though the crook of Tel’s elbow. “He wishes not for death.”
“It’s what I am,” the grey-furred female retorted with clipped words, frowning when the Paw squeezed her arm tightly.
“No, you are his mate. He wishes for you not to find the need for your abilities,” Pan asserted firmly before a slight blush worked its way into her cheeks. “He felt no such distaste when you both returned from the bathhouse that moon, I assure you.”
Tel raised a brow before gazing off into the settlement, the sparse security member patrolling throughout being the only reliable activity. The occasional Lilhun would travel between dens and barracks, but most everyone was resting through the moon.
“I am aware he is hesitant to accept the nature of my existence,” she responded after a while. “But I cannot help but feel as if I should bear another scar for failing to protect him.” She chuckled dryly. “Not that he would, it seems.”
“Scar?” Pan asked, her tilted head drooping an ear.
Tel patted her thigh near her intimacy. “I believe Scarlet’s moniker was in part due to hers, but Blades are given them when they fail their duties. From defaulting on a contract, to betraying their master’s expectations. A Blade of many nicks is hardly a worthy Blade.”
Pan mulled over the words before responding. “What caused yours?”
The female shook her head. “The only time I refused to kill. I do not wish to speak of it further.”
The topic of conversation swiftly shut down, Pan continued her affectionate lean into Tel, both watching the odd member wander to the lavatories or exit a den to stumble into their own after an accepted invitation. They spotted Jax near the mostly-completed barn, though he seemed to have chosen to relieve himself behind the structure rather than cross the distance to a restroom.
“You did not fail him.”
Tel glanced at the cuddling female. “Forget his wound? I would have assumed you would remember after the lecture you gave him.”
Pan giggled quietly. “You brought him back.”
“Injured.”
“Mentally whole,” Pan clarified firmly, though the warmth never left her voice. “He would have suffered more than his flesh were he forced to take a life before he is ready. If we are blessed, perhaps he needn’t at all.”
“Will he ever be?”
Pan’s smile faded as she nodded. “He wishes not to, but he would have never sent you and the other Wraiths to eliminate before. He has grown to slowly accept the rules of this world, as much as it pains him.”
Tel’s eyes grew distant. “Then I suppose I will wait for when he no longer wishes for me.”
The slight prick of Pan’s claws drew the female’s attention. “He will need you more than ever when he crosses that line.”
“He has you,” the grey-furred female countered quietly.
“And yet I must protect that which he deems inviolable,” Pan insisted with another grip of her claws. “I may not be there when his paws are first stained with the blood of another, and in that moment, he will require you. Perhaps, even if I was within reach, he would still be in need of you.”
Tel remained in a quiet contemplation, only rising once Jax was relieved of his watch by a groggy male. “It seems our rest may resume, assuming Joseph does not reject us in his sleep.”
The Paw shook her head slowly. “He has trapped Harrow for the time being. I would imagine he would awaken if the warmth was not replaced quickly.”
With a spin on her pads, she walked to the ladder to lower herself to the ground, pausing as Tel remained reticent and still. The female’s eyes meeting her own, a sliver of an appreciative smile appeared.
“Thank you… For easing my worries.”
Pan’s expression softened, her feet carrying her back to the female. Rising to her full height, she placed a chaste kiss on Tel’s cheek before grabbing her paw.
“Come, Tel, our mate awaits us.”
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“Are they gone?” the male growled when the Lilhun approached the caravan, the sag in his posture telling of his restless suns.
“Yes, High Hunter Hasen. There have been no reports of harassment for several moons.”
He grunted, dismissing the member of his caravan to rejoin elsewhere within the formation. The healing wound across his neck burned, the depth just enough to draw blood, but not enough to kill.
They were being played with. Treated like toys by those Wraiths.
Being so close to coaxing the information from Bratik had left him on the precipice of satisfaction. Another step closer to either killing or enslaving that bumbling fool of a Grand Hunter that refused to develop his pack’s weapons. Instead of bolstering his member’s arms, he wished to play with flora and minerals. To rend acids from animals to process materials. Not a single thought went into using such discoveries to have their worthless counterparts bend the knee.
He was sick of it. Sick of feigning interest in the production and study of rocks when he could be a part of something more.
He had joined Toril because it was rather difficult to dominate their new environment when they were too preoccupied decorating dens and negotiating treaties, instead of marching to take what was rightfully the property of the strong. The military had acted in accordance with this way of life, their single-minded elimination of their foes being the reason Hasen had volunteered instead of allowing himself to be conscripted.
Having lost their ship, it seemed everyone was complacent to simply tolerate each other. They have forgotten what set them upon their path.
Well, most everyone.
The flicker of rage and sheer blood-lust that he could feel from well away from the source had made him wonder if he had perhaps chanced upon another of his mind, but it had disappeared just as quickly.
The cloaked male. That was the source. A shame it had vanished as he protected an orange-furred female.
It was also obnoxious that those damn females had wiped out the advanced force he had led, as well as continued to follow those who had left to regroup. Strange ink and ephemeral laughter kept his pack awake and fearful despite no further death, not that Hasen doubted their ability. The grey-furred Wraith slaughtered three of his more proficient combatants with little more than cold fury. They had existed too close to the female’s master, and that seemed to be punishable by death.
The only reason he lived was because they allowed him to. To spread fear of the territory they had wandered into while pursuing their greatest asset and danger. To think before setting foot within it again.
To mock him. To make a fool of him. To challenge him.
Hasen ordered the pack to be ready for departure. They would force their way within the treaty then provoke whoever thought it wise to hold his objective to move Grand Hunter Trill into doing their work.
A malicious grin formed on his muzzle as he replayed the source of such murderous rage in his mind. The moment all protections had waned in favour of a sole desire to rend flesh from bone.
The orange-furred female... A mate? Lover? It mattered not, she would be a worthwhile target.
His wound burned as the growled chuckle escaped him, the pain only adding fuel to his fire of conquest.
Soon, Blademaster. Soon.
But first; he must gather more in number, and there were many settlements that could be absorbed, and many Lilhuns in need of his control. If they were to disagree? Well, there was hardly a need for more than one Master Hunter. He just needed to become the first.
Then he would accept that challenge.