Eidelen froze mid-step when she saw the towering white khundii through the brush. As tall at the shoulder as her own chin, it stood not fifty feet away. After a long, frozen moment of mutual contemplation, the great hound tossed its head and let out a growl, lips curling back over white teeth in a snarl, halfway between wary and dismissive.
Eidelen slowly, carefully eased her right foot backwards, then her left, keeping her eyes fixed on the khundii’s piercing blue ones. It was unusual to see one of the khundii so close to civilization - she'd need to tell her parents to be extra careful with the livestock - but she knew, roughly, what to do. Keeping eye contact would show the beast that she wasn't afraid, wasn't prey. Move slowly but surely away, give the creature lots of space, make it obvious she was leaving. Don't turn your back until you can't see it anymore, because turning, or worse, running, would drive the hound to chase.
The khundii was still meeting her gaze. Should she be worried? Father always said any of the hound-kin would bow their heads before a confident stare. Certainly the iilmen at home did; but they were lesser hounds, accustomed to life among humans. Maybe it could smell her fear, didn't consider her a real threat.
She kept easing backwards, wary of breaking a branch and spooking the beast, or worse, tripping and falling. The gloom of the forest obscured her view, as she angled herself to put a tree-trunk directly between herself and the great hound, but the light still reflected brightly against the pale coat. The khundii huffed questioningly in her direction as any hound might, tilting its head to the side. Almost away from it entirely now, just a few more steps…
She stayed facing the direction of the gaunt beast even after she couldn't see it anymore. Now was not the time to take chances. Then, hesitantly, she took her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow. She wanted to be armed when she turned, casting a wary eye over her shoulder. There would be no more hunting today; she headed straight back home, and didn't let down her guard until she could hear the lowing of the askgedu among the trees. The forest-cows were both skittish and stubborn; if there’d been a threat nearby they’d have been on edge and likely surly as well.
…
The White One was surprised and curious. He’d met something strange today, something that wasn't like anything else he’d ever come across. The creature stood taller than his shoulder, and he was somewhat large even among his own kind; but it was thin, and stood on only two legs, and he was certain he could have broken it like a twig. He’d given it a moment to challenge or flee, and it had done neither. When he’d growled, low and questioning, it had barely reacted at all. What's more, it had held his gaze unflinchingly as it left.
White One wanted to know more. He let the strange new thing think he was uninterested, but he’d made certain to memorize it's scent. When the sun had lowered beyond the trees, after he’d caught himself some tasty wing-meat and hopping-meat, he crept back along the trail to find the creature’s lair. It had walked among the big-meats with no hesitance, he smelled, although he couldn't do the same. The big-meats were both taller and broader than him, armed with heavy hooves and sharp horns, and they didn't like him being near. The silly creatures couldn't tell he was packless, and thus no threat to them. He made his way around the herd with care, but the smell of the strange new thing didn't come out the other side. It's lair must be somewhere within the herd.
It's lair must be very strange, to be surrounded by big-meats so thoroughly, and with the smell of smoke and lesser-hounds and other creatures on the wind. The forest was fertile but rarely so crowded. Some of the big-meats were strange, too, different from the others; one had larger, sharper horns that curved wickedly.
White One resolved to stay near the herd, and try to catch the strange two-legs thing leaving it's lair. He wouldn't be so foolish as to let it see him again, but would instead watch from a distance. This strange new thing was much too interesting to scare off again.
…
Eidelen’s father had been very concerned when she’d told him about the khundii, enough so that he’d gone right out and told Bright Horns, leader of the forest-cows, to keep watch. Bright Horns would warn the whole herd, and be extra wary himself; he knew that the family relied on the herd to be their early-warning system and guards, and he took his position very seriously. He’d fought fiercer opponents before.
When Eidelen woke the next morning, it was to the sounds of nervous cows. She felt a frisson of guilt and shame; she'd led the khundii right to the farm. On the one hand, she knew intellectually that everyone would probably be fine; though they might lose a head or two of cattle, there was no dire danger. On the other hand, she remembered how powerless she'd felt, staring down the great hound, and whatever happened next would be because she hadn't taken the time to hide her trail. It was a foolish, childish mistake, but she'd been rattled and focused on nothing but getting back to a feeling of safety and security, and now it was too late to go back and do the smart thing.
She went about her chores that day with an ear open to the sounds of the askgedu, and with Dancing Feet of the family hounds about her. They had enough hounds that her two sisters, both younger than her, each went with a pair; only Mama and Papa were unguarded, and Papa could call on the cows and Mama could call on the swine and the poultry. Soon Eidelen would be called on to make her own bond, once there were young for her to choose among. She got along best with the family hounds, and hoped for a pup to call her first-bonded.
But now was not the time to daydream about the future; now was a time for collecting eggs and mucking stalls and weeding among the vegetables. By her side Dancing Feet stayed true to her name and gamboled like a puppy instead of the grown hound she was; it made Eidelen smile and feel a little less nervous. She’d taken these hounds hunting, practiced their guard training with them, grown up with their parents watching over her. If the iilmen sensed no danger, she would trust the cows were doing their job and keeping a tight perimeter around the farm.
And so she continued to trust, as the next few days wore on and the askgedu never calmed. The great hound - or hounds, more likely - hadn't made any serious attempt to enter the farm, or even hunt one of the forest-cows, for which the whole family was quietly grateful. Losing a cow was always a significant blow to the well-being of the farm, even if they could scrape by and survive it. Nevertheless, Papa was getting worried. The longer the khundii stayed, the more likely it seemed they'd chosen to live in the area long-term, their strange politeness notwithstanding; and the family couldn't stay within the confines of the farm forever. They relied on the forest for forage and hunting almost as much as they relied on the crops and livestock they grew, and somewhat less so on trade with other farms and the town.
…
The White One was almost dozing when he caught the vibration of strange footfalls in the dirt. Footfalls like those of something large on two legs, his instincts told him, and they’d never led him astray before. He picked himself up off the forest floor, gave a little shake, and set off to take a peek at his quarry.
This time he kept well back, in the underbrush, and put a lifetime of practice with stealth to work. First he saw a creature like his strange new thing, but taller and a mite broader, and with hair on the lower half of its face. This new large two-leg thing peered around suspiciously, and made many sounds to the big-meat with the larger horns, but though both were wary they neither saw nor scented him. White One felt a small swell of satisfaction at his own skill.
Then the broad strange thing made a louder call, and up behind it came four other similar two-leg things. One of them was his, White One's strange thing, recognized more by smell than sight. It looked different today, it's torso a different color and wrapped in the scent of toughened skins, but he saw that it's face was the same. Perhaps two-legs like his could change their forms, but not their faces; so he made sure to study it carefully.
Two of the strange two-legs were small, obviously pups of their kind, and they each held one of his own two-legs’ hands. Around them stood three hounds, much like his own kind but smaller and leaner, and without the great ruff of fur to protect their necks and show off to potential mates. They were strange colors, with one russet, one black-and-white spotted, and one a more familiar earthen color, and stood alert and protective, as if they considered the two-legs pack-mates. That made a pang of loneliness pierce his heart; it seemed so right, this combining of forces, even though it was so far different from anything his own pack would have done. He could not explain it.
All together the strange pack moved, their eyes sharp and scanning the forest for trouble. They seemed to know their destination, heading to the right of the rising sun with purpose. The broad two-leg - White One could now identify it as likely to be the father of the pups - kept his hand ready with a sort of long, straight metal claw, and the mother two-leg had a piece of sharp wood held casually against a string tied to another piece of wood. White One was uncertain of what that was supposed to do, but judging by her stance it must be some sort of defence she kept ready.
White One crept along behind them, careful not to get too close and to always stay downwind. For a moment he was afraid the russet hound had scented him, but it was only excited by the scent of a hopping-meat, and a sharp whistle from his own strange one called it to heel. As the sun slid through the sky they approached a den of smells like nothing White One had ever smelled before - dirty and crowded and full of strange things, he guessed. It wasn't long after smelling it that he could see the forest give way to great edifices of wood and thatch, and as the two-legs saw it they all seemed to relax.
White One was not relaxed; this was very strange and new to him, and he didn't like it. The scent of the gathering of wooden things made him feel as if he needed to sneeze in protest, or possibly run away, but he stood his ground and watched as the father two-legs led the whole pack right into the clearing and among the great wooden things. Other, unfamiliar two-legs walked among the buildings with no fear, and called out merrily to the newly-arrived pack, presumably in greeting. White One resolved to stay where he was, rather than enter the clearing where he would certainly be spotted; he was fairly sure the pack would return to their strange big-meat-surrounded lair, and if they did not, he need only go around the clearing until he found their scent trail.
…
By the time the family started back home it was late afternoon, and Papa was snapping at them all to make time so they’d be back home before dark. Mama had, as usual, gotten caught up in conversation and only reluctantly been pried away, and so they had not left quite as early as they should have. Normally this would have been fine, but given present circumstances being out with the children after dark was a bad idea.
Eidelen glanced around her warily; since they’d left the town she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of being watched. Ninaase and Liile were tired and complaining, but Eidelen couldn't carry them both, and her parents needed to stay on guard. She made do with picking up Ninaase for the first half of the walk and promising Liile that she’d carry her instead for the second half. Everyone knew twins were bad luck, she thought wryly, and this was why; it was too much to ask a small family to care for two younglings at the same time. The twins were good girls, but they couldn't help being young children, with all that entailed. Thank goodness Eidelen was grown and able to help; what would Mama and Papa have done without her? Moved into town, maybe, but that would have been very hard on them.
It was passing on into early evening when they hit the halfway point and Eidelen swapped sisters; they were making good time considering they had a child walking with them but the light would be dimming as they reached the farm. Eidelen missed when the girls had been young enough to be carried by the hounds, with her helping them balance, but at 8 years old they were right in that awkward spot where they still tired quickly but were a real pain to carry, and far too large for an iilmen, even a good stout one. They couldn't risk damaging the hounds’ backs; Eidelen could barely imagine being so careless of an animal’s health. It was too bad they didn't have any real riding beasts in their herd, but then they’re never needed one before. Askegu were strong enough, but not shaped right for it, and they didn't have a carriage for them to pull. Perhaps father would see about turning one of them to a riding beast anyway.
Then she saw it, out of the corner of her eye: the smallest flicker of white. It might have been nothing; there were birds that lived in this forest that had partially white plumage, and white flowers sometimes grew; she might have seen one being blown by the wind. Her grip on Liile tightened enough to make the little girl squirm uncomfortably in her sleep.
“Papa? I think I might have seen it,” she said in a level voice.
“The khundii? Where? No, keep walking forward, stay calm,” he instructed as she hefted Liile and turned to point.
“It was behind us. North, maybe a tick West,” she answered. “It was only a glimpse; it could have been something else.”
“Okay. Here's what we're going to do: you wake Liile, and Ninaase you be ready to run with your sister if we say so, okay? It might not be the khundii, and it might not be hunting, so we're just going to stay alert and keep walking. If it shows itself, Mama will shoot it and we’ll set the hounds on it as we retreat. If it gets past the dogs, I'll make a stand with my sword. If it gets past me, you run for home with the twins, and Mama will cover you in a fighting retreat, okay? Just like when we came across that anzegii gudu. The best thing you can do for us is to get yourselves home safe.”
Eidelen vividly remembered the encounter with the fierce rabbit-guardian, years before the twins were born, when she was just a little girl herself. Until now it had been her most terrifying memory, but if a pack of khundii was hunting them…
In her state of mind every passing breeze that rustled the leaves seemed ominous, every gap between birdsong a sign that a predator was nearby. Eidelen made a conscious effort to stay loose and relaxed; tensing up now would only waste energy and potentially scare the twins. She had a duty to them and to Mama and Papa, and she would carry it out to the best of her ability, by rot or blade alike.
…
If White One had not been the one to make the mistake, he would have nipped the fool hound who’d allowed himself to be seen by his quarry. Now the strange two-legs were obviously on edge, anxious even, after seeing just the hint of the tip of his tail. He heard the father two-legs speak to his pack, and wanted to snarl with frustration at not being able to understand what he was saying. Would they try to turn the situation around, and hunt him instead? He didn't even know if that was a reasonable option for them, whether they’d consider themselves at an advantage against him. He would have guessed not based on their strange, thin appearances, but he didn't know enough to say for certain; he’d had rather more experience than he liked with things turning out to be more dangerous than they seemed.
Besides which, this was another sort of rejection, wasn't it? They hadn't waited to see if there would be a challenge, but rather been hostile at the first sign of his mere presence. They hadn't actually attacked, luckily, but they had assumed battle readiness and changed their formation to better protect the young. These were the actions of prey - fellow predators would have considered a lone hound at most someone to compete with over resources. But his own strange one had not acted like prey when she’d come across him by herself, and so he was puzzled.
The White One mulled these things over as he escorted the two-leg pack to the big-meat barrier around their lair. It was clear that the strange two-legs considered him a threat, more so than one would expect from a lone hound, even a large intruder on pack territory. His own kind had always considered him a threat as well, so maybe he was foolish to expect anyone to treat him as a normal hound. But perhaps… perhaps there was something he could do, to prove his good intentions.
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…
Eidelen slept fitfully that night, kept up by nightmares of her family torn to shreds by khundii, left to rot on the forest floor. In the morning she was bleary and dazed, half-asleep on her feet no matter how many times she splashed well water on her face. Mama scolded her for not asking for a sleeping draught to see her through the night, but Eidelen had been afraid of being trapped in her dreams, unable to wake no matter how scared she got. She stumbled through her chores in a stupor until Papa took pity on her and told her to go take a nap.
She was woken in the late afternoon by a howling hound and the strange sharp mooing of angry askgedu. Mama had already collected the twins, and together they huddled in the house trying not to worry as Papa went out to investigate with his bow. It wasn't so long of a wait but it felt like forever, straining her ears to try to figure out what was going on, reminding herself that the cattle wouldn't let anything into the farm proper.
At last the door opened, and Papa was there, holding a brace of dead rabbits and looking confused as anything.
“It's the strangest thing,” he said as he sat down heavily in a kitchen chair. “I got out there, and there were three rabbits on the ground, obviously brought down by a hound, and the askgedu were mad enough to call down lightning, but there wasn't a khundii there. There was at least one nearby, I'm sure, I could hear it howling like a broken heart, but I couldn't see it at all. So I told Bright Horns to keep close watch and be ready to sheild me, and strung up the rabbits, and as soon as I stood up with ‘em the beast stopped howling. It's like there's an Enkindled out there, but it’d have to be the hound, and I’ve never heard of an Enkindled khundii.”
That put everyone to pause as they turned the idea over in their heads.
“I’ve never heard of a wild-born Enkindled at all,” confessed Mama.
“It's happened before - my clan’s shaman bonded with a deer-kin, and there's an old tale about a great chieftain bonding a wild songbird. But both were small, docile animals.”
“If it were Enkindled… Would it be able to meet a human's eyes?” asked Eidelen. “Because when I saw it, it held my gaze, completely steady, until I was out of sight.”
“Well, kut,” said Papa. “I think that confirms it. Even khundii pack leaders won't lock eyes. But you know being Enkindled doesn't make it safe - it might even make it more dangerous than it would be otherwise. It's not bonded and it's most certainly not safely trained.”
“But Mama, what are we going to do about it?” piped up Ninaase.
None of them really had an answer for that.
…
White One was well pleased with how his scheme had worked out. Father two-legs had taken the gift. White One had tried to combine being obvious about who it was from with being non-threatening, but he hadn't been sure until he saw the two-legs that he’d even come out and check on the racket at all. He’d gotten away with only a threatening from the big-meats, not even a small bruise from a kick.
It was yet to be seen if the two-legs would still take offense to his being in their territory, but at least they should know he had no hostile intentions. Now they would come out of their lair to hunt unafraid, and he would get to watch them until they chased him off.
Except they didn't come out to hunt, not that day, and not the next, and not the one after that, either. White One was surprised, but not worried; they'd stayed in longer than that before going to the clearing with the tall wooden structures. He just had to be patient, and they'd come out eventually. He continued to remind himself of this, day after day, as the moons moved closer together in the night sky.
On the night they overlapped, he confessed his defeat to himself. He’d done something wrong, he didn't know what, and now the two-legs would never leave their lair. They’d rather starve than get anywhere near him. Once again, he’d failed at anything like normal pack interaction, as he would always fail, because there was something wrong with him that he just couldn't fix no matter how hard he tried.
He found himself a rotting tree, far enough away from the two-leg lair that the big-meats would never scent him no matter how the wind changed, and huddled up in the hollow of its rotting bark to fall asleep.
…
Eidelen and her parents were having a disagreement, in fact, the same disagreement that they’d been having for several weeks now. Eidelen's position was that they needed to get back to foraging and hunting, and that the khundii had made a show of good faith and should be treated with a level of trust. Not stupid trust, not blind faith, just an acknowledgement of the message communicated. The great hound or hounds were still very dangerous, but they should be given an opportunity to show whether they would be hostile or not - and even whether they could be bonded.
Mama and Papa’s position was “are you crazy, we’re not stepping foot outside the farm until we have to, we’re still hoping the khundii will go away, we bought plenty of supplies in town for this exact reason.”
Eidelen understood that position, or at least thought she did. Taking a risk, even a very small risk, was scary. Mama and Papa would never agree to let Eidelen to be the one to take that risk, but losing one of them instead would put the family in a very bad position. It was absolutely true that they did have the supplies to last until the moons were at their farthest apart again, at least if they scrimped.
But then what? That was her question. What if they made it all the way to mid-month and the khundii was still out there? Would they huddle inside the confines of the farm for the rest of their lives, living in fear of an animal - an Enkindled, a potential partner - that might not even be hostile? Would they walk the path to town with weapons in their hands, and stop visiting neighbors, and ration out their supplies like they were living in a famine?
And that's why Eidelen was sneaking out, tears streaming down her cheeks, in the middle of the night. Mama and Papa would not bend, and couldn't afford to risk themselves when there were Ninaase and Liise to think about. Eidelen was the only expendable one who could do this. If the khundii ate her, well, at least they'd know to pick up stakes and abandon the farm for the sake of the twins, even if that would put them begging for charity from the townsfolk. If the khundii didn't eat her, if it behaved itself as it had seemed to indicate it would, then she could return in triumph, showing her parents that there was nothing to fear.
Eidelen would risk everything for her family, as was the only honorable way.
…
White One had been overcome with despair in the wake of his failure. He slept most of each day, and hunted only half-heartedly. It was as bad as when he’d first been kicked out of the pack, and had let himself shrivel away to almost nothing - except this time he barely had any fat reserves to draw on to begin with. He’d always been so sensitive to his own emotions, buffeted about by the winds of his mind in a way none of his former pack had ever shown signs of.
He didn't sense his strange two-legs until it was almost upon him, wandering through the brush. When he did scent it, he didn't quite believe it at first. Was he dreaming, as
he so often dreamed of his old pack? Was he merely over-hopeful?
He heaved himself to his feet and tried to capture a semblance of stealth as he looked for his two-legs, though he was feeling a bit unsteady with hunger. Yes, there it was, collecting nuts into a… What was that? A sort of hollow that it carried, that smelled of plant fibers. He’d seen the two-legs carrying things like that back to the lair after they’d gone to the clearing with the wooden buildings. His great fluffy tail wagged like a puppy’s at the sight of his two-legs, almost giving him away, but he caught himself before he’d ruffled too much greenery.
He must not scare the two-legs, not when it had finally been brave enough to venture out. He would content himself with watching from a distance amongst the trees, so that it did not even know he was there. Oh, but he was so glad, so painfully glad that his two-legs had found its courage! He watched it raptly, and soaked in its scent like he was savouring the flavors of a rich liver. His two-legs was a female, it seemed, and newly mature, judging by scent she emitted. It was a subtle thing, harder to parse than one of his own kind, for whom sex, age, mood, and more would be obvious at a whiff.
Why did she want the nuts, he wondered. Nuts were prey-food, useless to predators like him and, he assumed, herself. She must have some clever reason for collecting them, beyond his understanding, for it seemed that two-legs followed many strange ways. No matter, in time he would learn them all. As long as the two-legs were willing to come out of their lair, he would watch them, and let himself pretend they didn't mind his presence.
His strange one collected nuts, berries, shoots, and mushrooms until the moons were low in the sky and she moved with the slowness of the weary. He followed her until she was safe back among the big-meats that guarded her lair, before turning and loping off to hunt. He would make up for his hunger quickly, and then wait for the next time a two-legs appeared.
…
Mama and Papa were furious when they found the bag full of forage in the morning and demanded an explanation. After she gave her reasoning, their anger was not forgotten, but they were both grudgingly proud of her honorable conduct; Mama was weepy about the chance she'd taken, and Papa was chagrined that she felt she had no choice but to act against their wishes. The remainder of the day was tense, as the risen emotions bubbled back towards equilibrium in fits and starts. Eidelen napped most of it away, with her waking moments being dominated by relief that she’d survived.
That evening they had a family meeting and agreed that foraging and hunting would resume as normal, but only if Eidelen worked with Mama or Papa instead of alone, and the twins wouldn't enter the forest at all. Liile burst into tears when Mama explained what Eidelen had done and why, and Ninaase said in a suspiciously croaky voice that if Eidelen ever died doing something so stupid, her spirit wouldn't be welcome among the family.
By the next day, it was back to life as usual; farm chores didn't stop for you to catch your breath. Eidelen let herself get caught up in the simple pleasure of the family being in accord once more, the removal of the worry hanging over their heads as refreshing as clear spring water.
The days rolled on, and the family saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious white khundii. Maybe it had left after all, and all their worrying had been for naught. At the very least it seemed clear there was no full pack roaming nearby, which was a relief for everyone. As the moons moved apart in the sky, their previous level of concern began to seem over-cautious, even paranoid. As fall turned to winter, it was agreed the Eidelen could go out on her own once again.
…
White One was surprised when he saw his own two-legs come out of the lair on her own. She was wrapped warmly in furs, for White One had learned that the two-legs did not change themselves so much as wrap themselves in different things, and the wind had started to nip with teeth on recent nights. She had on her shoulder her bow, which he had observed was used to send sharp arrows at prey so that they died, and she had over her shoulder her usual bag, ready to collect whatever useful things she might find without carrying them herself.
Soon the woods would go quiet and still, as snow floated down, and all the little prey would hide away to sleep until spring. This was always a capricious time of year, trying to eek out every last bit of hunting before the storms came and it was too dangerous to wander, but there was some time yet for him and the two-legs to build their fat reserves. For the last few excursions there had been no nuts or fruits for the two-legs to collect, and they'd focused solely on hunting rabbits and birds in the last days before they went to ground.
White One tracked his two-legs in the direction of the setting sun, keeping pace easily. Two-legs did not run fast, and indeed walked more often than not, but they didn't seem to tire hardly at all. In a contest of endurance between himself and his two-legs, he was not sure who he would favor to win. In a contest of hunting, he was sure he would lose; the mighty arrow could take down even a large spreading-antlers deer when launched by the cunning skill of his two-legs.
His breath and the two-legs' puffed out as clouds of visible white in the chill afternoon air as they scaled a thickly wooded hill. With the newfound sparseness of the vegetation, he’d had to hang further back to not be spotted. As his two-legs crested the summit he saw her frown intensely at the cloudy sky, already darkening with moisture.
The next moment was over before he knew what was happening; in a split-second, a rabbit lunged forward through the scrub, frantic enough on its own business to run right by the two-legs’ feet. His two-legs startled, jerking backwards in surprise and put a foot down just wrong, losing her balance completely as her leg failed to hold her weight, and tumbled down the near slope of the hill. He was springing forwards even before he heard the sickening ‘crack’ of something hitting wood and a grunt of pain.
…
Eidelen woke crumpled in a heap at the bottom of a tree, with a ringing in her ears and the white khundii standing over her. It took a sort of half-hop back in surprise as she leaned forward and vomited onto the ground, barely avoiding her own knees. Eidelen looked up into its face in the certainty that she was about to die, pressing against the broad trunk of the tree as if it would suddenly give way and let her escape.
The khundii leaned forward, delicately stepping around the puddle of sick to sniff inquisitively at her face, as she closed her eyes and tried to stutter out her own death-chant, drilled into her head since infancy for a time just like this. A long moment passed as the beast’s hot breath huffed against her cheek once, then again. What was going on? Why didn't it just strike already, and spare her the suspense?
She focused on her own chant, on slowing it down, on facing her end with dignity and grace. And still, nothing happened except that she felt he face of the khundii draw away from her. Hesitantly, she slitted one eye open. The great hound sat not a foot away from her, watching her calmly with it's head tipped to one side.
She opened her eyes completely, and the hound did not respond. Her mind filled with wild, disbelieving hope as there continued to be no sign of hostility. She let her chant stagger to a halt as the reality sunk in: she was not about to die.
…
White One’s two-legs had stopped talking and was now merely staring at him, her face a picture of undisguised wonder. The fear-scent she had reeked of was blowing away in the breeze like a bad memory; he hadn't meant to scare her, but at least she was calming now. He let his tail wag just once, hopeful, a request for permission. Slowly, haltingly, his two-legs held out one of her strange clever forepaws towards him, in a gesture that seemed friendly. He sniffed it politely and he thought she must have liked that, for her lips curled upwards in the way he’d seen them do towards her compatriots or after a successful hunt.
His tail wagged in earnest now - he had not yet been rejected! Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the ground before her, keeping his eyes away from hers and pinned back his ears plaintively, letting out a low and begging whine and forcing his tail down to sweep the ground as it wagged. When there was no immediate chastisement, he dared to glance upwards. His two-legs was speaking to him kindly, almost affectionately, in the soothing burbling language of her kind, still looking greatly surprised to see his deference.
He saw no acknowledgement of dominance, but no attempt to rebuff his advances, either. He would consider himself tentatively accepted to the pack until someone showed otherwise. With the formalities thus settled, he let his body language settle into a more natural expression of hope and joy as he relaxed.
…
Eidelen struggled to stand upright, leaning against the tree for support as she swayed on her feet. She could feel the swelling growing on the back of her head where it had hit the bark - she was lucky she hadn't broken her neck, falling at that angle! She needed to get home, where Mama could look her over and call the village shaman if she needed to. Head wounds were no laughing matter.
The problem was that she wasn't entirely sure she could walk, and those sorts of things could get worse over time just as much as they could get better. She’d just have to manage the indignity of stumbling like a drunkard, and get home as fast as she could. Kut, she'd crawl if she needed to.
She took a small step, leaning on her bow as if it was a walking stick. She hoped that wouldn't damage it, but even if it did, it was better than falling into another tree and injuring herself even further. The ground felt like it was swaying sickeningly under her feet, making her stumble, but the khundii was quick to place his broad body in front of her and arrest her fall.
“Good hound,” she praised him, surprised. “Good beastie. Let's just see if you’ll let me lean on you, yeah? Such a good hound. I don't know how we ever thought you were a threat.” The khundii seemed amenable enough to helping her walk, tail wagging every time she said anything. In fact, he seemed as eager to please as a new pup. And this was the great, terrifying hound she'd been certain not twenty minutes ago would be the death of her!
On the one hand, she couldn't fault herself or her family for being cautious. Wild animals were genuinely dangerous most of the time, especially big predators like khundii. On the other hand, how much trouble would they have saved by treating this one like a lone iilmen?
This would be her first-bonded, she thought wondrously. Come to her out of the woods like an old legend, the first bonded khundii anyone had ever heard about, and he would be hers. She wouldn't give him up without a fight, not now, not after such a true and powerful beginning of a bond.
Everything would change now. She’d be eligible to be married, to go seek her fortune with another clan, to apprentice to a trade if she wished! She’d have a year to establish her own home, though she was certain Mama and Papa would let her stay on the farm. She'd never be alone again, no matter what happened, and she'd have all the responsibilities of a bond with a creature no one could tell her how to care for beyond the generalities of hound-kin.
…
White One was nervous as his two-legs directed him into the herd of big-meats, but he obeyed. She'd regained her balance somewhat and now only rested a forepaw gently on his back, reassuring him. She told off the big-meats that lowed aggressively at him, and they reluctantly gave way before the pair of them as they made their way into the lair.
It was not what White One had expected. A good bit of it was overtaken by strange-smelling plants in neat, unnatural-seeming rows, with barely any trees. As well, there were a few large structures of wood and dried grass, much like the ones he’d seen in the other clearing, moons before. The smell of big-meats and lesser hounds and birds and bristle-meats indicated they all lived in this area, among the two-legs. He had already seen that two-legs and hounds could be pack; maybe they were all pack together.
The father two-legs was waiting for them, with the largest-horned big-meat at his side. He was frowning darkly, obviously tense, a long straight branch tipped with a square of metal at his side. He spoke sternly to White One’s own two-legs, but she responded with quiet passion, refusing to bow her head. If she planned to challenge her father for leader of the pack, White One would support her - she had accepted him, where father two-legs did not seem to like him. He growled low so father two-legs would know of his side on the matter, but that only seemed to make him angrier, and a touch afraid.
White One's two-legs leaned into him and placed her arms over his back as she spoke emphatically, and White One let his tail wag openly at such a declaration of loyalty. He tilted his head back to her and yipped his appreciation, trying to curl his lips up as she had before. She did it back at him, so he thought she understood.
Father two-legs was looking between the two of them in disbelief, his eyebrows still furrowed in dismay and his scent still bubbling with fear. He spoke more, pleading from the sound of it, but White One’s two-legs would not back down. Eventually he bowed his head in submission, with a final sharp command that seemed to bely his posture, and gestured towards the largest of the big wooden structures.
…
The white khundii would be sleeping in the barn tonight, and Eidelen would be sleeping next to him, as was the custom. To be honest, she didn’t think he would have fit into her room anyway. Mama and Papa were anxious, and had pleaded with her to see sense and abandon the great hound, for the safety of herself and her family. They weren't wrong to worry about an untrained Enkindled - the bond granted neither obedience nor general good nature - but Eidelen had faith in her khundii. She had been completely at his mercy, and he had chosen to submit to her of his own free will. That was the kind of beginning that made partnerships that were spoken of for generations.