Chapter 20

Lennard changed Maka's bandages and applied healing salves to the wound. The drainage had almost stopped, and the wound was ready to start healing. Maka was still far from being out of the woods, but the question of the wound healing had moved down his list of priorities.

The next few days would be crucial for his recovery. Lennard hoped for the best, but he was also prepared for the worst. He hoped his family was doing the same.

Kyaro helped Lennard change the bedding and the soiled diaper. This gave Jenba a chance to get some fresh air and take their daughter Kija to breakfast.

"Lennard," Kyaro asked, "tell me the truth. Is Maka going to be okay?"

Lennard knew that there was no way to tell how much internal damage the injury had done, and he had tried to express this to Maka's family several times. However, he understood Kyaro's desire to hear it from him directly.

"Kyaro," Lennard said, "there really is no way for me to say what will happen. It's great that Maka has woken up and knows that you are all here with him, but..." Lennard paused to give the next part some added gravity.

"But the damage is to his brain, and it is still too early to say how much damage has been done. Everyone wants him to make a full recovery, but unfortunately, I can't see inside to tell you what's actually going on. You need to be aware that there is a real possibility that this is as good as he will get. He might stay like this for the rest of his life. I don't think that will be the case, but you need to prepare yourself for that eventuality."

Kyaro's eyes welled up with tears, and he nodded his head. "Thank you for your honesty, Lennard," he said in a sad yet determined tone. "I guess I owe you a bit of honesty as well. I can tell that Harlow is now a man. He wasn't the other day, which means that you performed The Bonding ritual. It's the only possibility. There are a lot of people around here who are not going to like that you did that."

Lennard had a feeling this was coming, and he had somewhat prepared a speech to defend his actions. Unfortunately, as Kyaro spoke the truth to him, his own prepared words were quickly forgotten. "I know," he sputtered out. "But you know his father wouldn't do it, couldn't do it! The drunkard. And Harlow would have wound up in the same state, worse actually, just for different reasons."

"I couldn't have imagined it going this way," Lennard said. "I was like a father to him. I didn't expect him to..." He stopped there, catching himself before divulging too much information. At least he hoped.

There was an awkward pause, a silence that neither wanted to break, but both wanted to end.

"Hmmm... Well, you're right about his father," Kyaro said. "And yes, he probably would have wound up chasing the dragon. I get why you did it." Kyaro paused before continuing. "What was it you didn't expect?"

Lennard's heart skipped a beat. He had really hoped Kyaro wouldn't have paid attention to the last part. "Oh, um, well..."

"Spit it out," Kyaro said. "We're being honest here, aren't we?"

“Yeah, you’re right, Kyaro,” Lennard sighed. Taking a deep breath. He prepared himself to admit to the mayor of the town what had happened.

“The Bonding gained a physical component,” he said. “It was a choice, at least on my part. I couldn’t bear the alternatives, so I chose to be with him. Later on, we experienced a life vision. For some reason, we were meant to be together. It’s something neither of us expected or wanted, but we’re mates now.” He stopped there, not going into the psychic abilities or anything else. This was much more than he wanted to tell Kyaro in the first place, but he thought that if he knew about the spiritual bond as well, Kyaro might be more accepting and maybe even become an ally if the need arose.

The news obviously affected Kyaro, and he pondered what he had just heard. Lennard gathered up the dirty laundry and made his way to the back door. He turned once to see Kyaro, head down and thinking about the conversation they had just had.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lennard was torn. He wanted to go tell Kyaro more, but he also felt like enough had been said and that Kyaro now needed to make his own decisions.

He tossed the soiled laundry towards his house where he could wash it later, then stepped into his lab. Harlow would be back soon, and Lennard wasn’t sure how the reception between Harlow and Kyaro would go now. He wanted to be ready to pull Harlow away and put him to work if needed.

Jenba and Kija returned at the same time as Harlow, who held the door open for them. Lennard poked his head out to see them walking in. Jenba looked refreshed, and Harlow wore a smile as if they had been walking and talking together.

Lennard smiled back and glanced over to the recovery room to see Kyaro still standing with his head down, but holding his son's hand. He hoped seeing his family would brighten his mood and allow him to forget their blunt discussion, at least for the time being.

Shortly after his wife arrived, Kyaro left, telling his family he had too much to get finished that afternoon. Lennard watched him leave without saying goodbye. His friend's attitude was different than usual, and he hoped it was just the stress of having an injured child and a large town festival going on at the same time. Anyone would suffer under such circumstances, and he knew his secret only added to Kyaro's burden.

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The remainder of the day passed without much incident. The Ansong family stayed close together, and Kyaro came to visit them later that evening. There was an obvious aversion on Kyaro's part towards Lennard and Harlow.

Harlow didn't notice, but Lennard, who had known Kyaro for much longer, could tell that the mayor's focus and demeanor were abnormal. The physician in Lennard wanted to ask if there was anything he could do to help, but the friend in him knew that Kyaro needed time to work through the stresses of the day.

The festival was happening the following day. Once Kyaro made it through the festival and all the duties involved in keeping it running smoothly, Lennard would confront him again. He had already added enough stress to Kyaro's situation. His further involvement would only serve to make himself feel better.

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The afternoon was spent teaching Harlow how to make healing potions using the Skrangy root. The process was somewhat involved and required multiple steps, including a small invocation. Luckily, since the plant Harlow had purchased had a large, intact root structure, they were able to produce multiple vials. Each one was stoppered only after it had completely cooled and the final ingredient was added.

"You need to add two drops, no more no less," Lennard told Harlow, who was holding the dropper. "This is the catalyst that turns the murky liquid in the vials to the bright red of a good healing potion."

"The Nettem extract has a type of acid that interacts with the alkaline of the potion. There will be a slight automatic reaction, but not overly large. You'll see the top of the liquid start first, it will bubble and turn extremely red. The color will quickly move down through the vial and change the rest of the potion to the same color."

Harlow nodded his head, eager to add the Nettem extract and watch the change happen. Lennard had let him complete the entire process, guiding him through the steps. He had even been able to perform the invocation.

Harlow knew of only two cantrips and used them frequently, but he had never tried anything so involved before. He wondered if he would be successful. He had never been able to manipulate energy well. He had even failed at rune crafting in his youth.

The first time had gone poorly. Luckily, even though the invocation was unsuccessful, the ingredients remained viable. So with Lennard's guidance and using their connection, Harlow quickly learned how to guide the flow of the magic.

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There were strangely few interruptions during the day. With all the extra people around setting up stalls, arranging fireworks and entertainment stages, and moving and hauling in supplies and wares, there were few accidents.

Lennard left Harlow working on the potions to set a fracture on a man who had slipped on a melon and fallen off his wagon. There was also one of the workers who had driven a nail through his hand. He had been foolish enough to attempt to remove it himself, and when he came into the clinic, his hand dripped blood all over the floor.

The man got stitched up and gave Lennard an extra silver for making such a mess.

Harlow finished up with the healing potions by mid-afternoon. Lennard took the potions and set them in a rack on top of the desk in the reception area. He made a small sign which read, "Healing potions: 1 gold each."

"I'd be willing to bet we sell all eight of them tomorrow," Lennard told Harlow. "That will more than cover the cost of your room."

Harlow felt good that he was helping to bring in some income. As a fetcher, he helped with chores and things, but his actions weren't directly responsible for the clinic making any money. This felt good to Harlow, as he could finally start contributing something directly since this was now his new home and life.

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That night in the tub, Lennard showed Harlow another invocation. This one was much more intricate, but when done properly, created a sensation between the two lovers that was indescribable.

It was heat and gravity that drew their bodies closer together, causing their intimate movements to burn. But the burning was not painful; it was an internal heat. Without being able to separate and feeling every motion and touch heat their skin, the two lovers quickly reached climax.

Afterwards, they were both extremely spent and lay in each other's arms to catch their breath.

"That is something we can't do frequently," Lennard told his lover through his panting.

"Yeah, I understand why now," Harlow said. "But it was worth it. That was amazing, Papa Bear."

Lennard chuckled, his large stomach spasming with laughter. The water in the tub splashed up as he laughed. "You're really going to keep calling me that pet name?"

Harlow nuzzled deeper into his lover's chest, his arms wrapped around the firm yet squishy torso. "I kinda like it."

"Whatever you say, Cub," Lennard said, emphasizing the last word. He looked down, a smirk on his lips. He had said the name as a type of jibe, but instead Harlow just purred contentedly. I guess he doesn't mind being a cub then, he thought to himself.