"That's because you're young," Rahnee said with a grin. "Just give it time. A couple of decades of hunting training should get you up with the rest of us."
"It just takes practice, and paying attention, Tarrin," Shirazi said calmly. "You don't hunt if you can't pay attention, because in a hunt, a moment's distraction can kill you."
"My father used to tell me that."
"So how is that gray-haired old fox?" Shirazi asked curiously. "Did you know that he almost found me once? He's one of the best trackers I've ever seen."
"You know my father?"
"Not personally," she said. "I range up near Aldreth. I've drifted over a couple of times to see what the humans were up to, and I saw him. And you. I must say, I think you look better this way," she said with a wink. "He tracked me once while he was out in the forest hunting. He was very good."
"He was a Sulasian Ranger," he told her. "He knows all about woodcraft. The Frontier was the reason my parents retired to Aldreth."
"A Ranger, eh? I should have known," she chuckled. "They're good. Very good. Fae-da'Nar respects their ability enough to give them a wide berth."
"It seems ironic that you would be turned, you know," Kimmie said clinically. "You were one of the few humans that many in Fae-da'Nar saw with any regularity. If I didn't know the details about what happened, I'd almost think that someone bit you on purpose."
"She's right there," Shirazi agreed. "You, your parents and sister, and alot of the people in Aldreth were observed quite a bit. Aldreth is almost a training ground for us, a place where we can take our cubs and show them humans when they don't know they're being watched. If I didn't know what happened, I'd be thinking that someone just went and turned you too."
"Why?"
"Because you're cute," Rahnee winked.
"You don't let up, do you?"
"Not til I get what I want," she said daringly, giving him a leering grin.
Triana returned carrying a large tray in her paws. It was loaded with several slices of ham steaks, two apples, a bowl of porridge, a thick slice of warm bread, and a large mug of chilled milk. "Eat it all," she ordered, setting it in front of him. "You can't mend if you don't eat."
"I don't think eating is going to be a problem," he said emphatically, picking up the fork with the oversized handle that was on the tray. They thought of everything.
Triana picked at one of the ham steaks on his tray absently as he ate, reaching over and picking up a piece here and there. He didn't mind, so long as she kept her paw out of the path of his fork. The ham was seasoned, to his surprise, delicately seasoned with herbs to give it a unique flavor. A very good one. The inn's cook was a man very much worth his salt.
"Oh, did you hear the news?" Singer said after taking a long drink. "Milana came in last night, but only to say hi. She was passing through."
"Why didn't she stay and greet Tarrin?" Triana asked sharply.
"Because she's about ten days from dropping a cub," Singer said lightly. "She was so pregnant, I'm surprised the cub didn't claw his way out. She's trying to get back to her den before she delivers."
The texture of Mist's scent changed dramatically, making him look at her. It was so full of anger it surprised him. He stared at her profile a long moment, seeing the barely contained look of anger on her face, but also seeing such a sharp, deep pain flutter over her features that it stabbed at him.
"Oh," Singer said very quietly when Shirazi glared at her. "Don't mind me. I think I'll just go sit on the porch a while."
She'd better, Tarrin realized, or Mist was going to come over the table and try to rip her head off.
What could incite a reaction like that? What had Singer said? She'd only mentioned that another Were-cat was pregnant. Why would that enrage Mist so, and cause that look of pain? Tarrin glanced at Kimmie, and then realization dawned on him. Mist, who was so feral that she defined the term, had taken Kimmie as a bond-child, when it should have been completely against her feral nature. But something had overridden even her feral fear of strangers and outsiders. She had seen a terrified child in desperate need of protection and nurturing, and her maternal instincts had risen up inside her and overwhelmed her own feral impulse to fear and mistrust the child. Mist had adopted a daughter, because she wanted a child.
Without thinking, Tarrin reached over and set his open paw against Mist's bare belly, a belly tight with rippling abdominal muscle. But when he looked closer, looked at her side, he saw the scars. The scars of her near-death experience, the scar that showed where she had been wounded by silver. Mist jumped at his touch, but she had little chance to make a more extreme reaction, because Tarrin reached out and touched the Weave, then reached into her, sending probes of Divine power through her to assess her physical condition. That probing gently yet completely blocked the diminutive Were-cat's attempts to slap his paw away, even to get away from him. It paralyzed her with a sensation of warm pleasure.
It only took him an eye's blink to find it. The scar tissue ran deeply in her, starting in her side and going right through both of the organs in her belly that produced the eggs that would allow her to become pregnant. They had been ravaged by whatever had wounded her, probably a sword judging by the size and texture of the scar tissue, and because of that, they no longer functioned. The wounding had made Mist barren.
That was no problem. Quickly and effortlessly weaving together a complicated tangle of flows of Water, Earth, and Divine power, the flows of healing, Tarrin snapped it down and then released it into her. The healing attacked the mangled scar tissue inside her, breaking it down, puzzling out the body's original condition and then reknitting together tissue and organs to make it just as it had been before. The jagged scar and skin surrounding it on Mist's side turned red, then the redness faded, taking the scar with it. Smooth unmarred skin was all that remained.
Mist finally managed to suck in her breath as the icy blast of Sorcerer's Healing worked its way through the warm sensation of the probe. She grabbed his paw with both of hers, yet seemed completely incapable of moving it even a hair's breadth, locking onto it and threatening to crush his wrist in a powerful grip as the Healing worked into her, through her, eradicating the scar tissue, and the condition it caused in her.
"Tarrin!" Triana said angrily as he blew out his breath and pulled his paw away, feeling the cold numbness of using up most of his energy. "You stupid cub! If I hadn't been here to choke that off, you would have fried yourself! What in the furies did you just do?"
He looked right in Mist's eyes, which were staring at him with a mixture of anger, confusion, and a strange fear. "What should have been done a long time ago," he said in a weary voice, more to her than anyone else. That had drained him of just about every ounce of energy he had, and he fought not to wilt onto the table.
"What does that mean?"
"There was a scar inside her that wouldn't let her conceive. I removed it. Mist isn't barren anymore."
Those simple words hit the other Were-cats like a sledgehammer. Shirazi gaped at him in shock, and Singer, who was in the act of standing, flopped back into her seat heavily. But Rahnee gave him a single startled look, then began to laugh. Kimmie smiled broadly, a look of sublime happiness on her face. But Mist stared at him with that same furious look, but now a twinge of disbelief rippled through her eyes. "You're lying," she accused in a desperate tone. "You couldn't have done that! Every Druid in Fae-da'Nar has tried to heal me!"
"Tarrin's not a Druid, Mist," Triana said bluntly, staring at her. "He's a Sorcerer, and Sorcerers can make a body heal in ways that aren't natural. And if he said he did it, then he did it. If you want, I'll check and make sure, but I don't think I have to."
"Check," she said instantly, still refusing to let go of his wrist. "If he's lying, I'm going to-"
"You watch your mouth, woman," Triana snapped, her eyes blazing. That immediately cowed the feral Were-cat, with a speed that surprised Tarrin, given Mist's powerful will. "Threaten my cub again, and you'll deal with me.
Is that understood?"
"Yes, Triana," Mist said with shocking submission.
"Now shut up and stay still," she ordered, coming around Tarrin and putting a paw on Mist's belly. Mist still had Tarrin's paw gripped in both of hers, and she merely moved them out of Triana's way. Triana closed her eyes for a moment, and Tarrin could feel something, something that seemed to dance just outside the fringes of his consciousness. When she opened her eyes again, there was no change in her stoic expression. She stared at Mist, and then she gave her the slightest of smiles. "He did a good job," she announced. "Very clean, very neat. He totally removed the scar, and repaired your ovaries."
"I… I can bear children?" Mist asked in a tiny voice.
"Yes," Triana announced in a powerful voice.
Tarrin was looking in her eyes as Triana made that announcement, and he distinctly saw that tension in them that marked her as different from the others melt away, if only for the moment. She looked into Tarrin's eyes in dumbfounded shock, and then she burst into tears. She let go of his paw and covered her face with hers as Kimmie stood up and put her paws on her bond-mother's shoulders gently, her thankful look and teary eyes communicating her gratitude to him in ways that no words could.
Tarrin winced and rubbed his wrist gingerly. She'd almost wrung his paw off with that grip. Mist was a powerful Were-cat, probably stronger than he was. Rahnee was giving Tarrin a broad smile, and then Shirazi laughed delightedly. Singer managed to come out of it, smiling at him. "I'm glad I was here to see that," she finally said. "Now I won't have to worry about Mist killing me."
For some reason, everyone else thought that was very funny. Everyone but Mist and him was laughing.
"Uh, Triana, I really think I need to go lie down now," he said weakly. "That took everything I had."
"I should say so," Triana said. "I can't take you anywhere without you causing a scene, do you know that, cub?" she said with a laugh as she reached down and scooped him up. Being carried hadn't been what he had in mind, but he was in no position to argue. Then again, he wasn't sure if he could stand up, and being carried certainly beat being dragged back up to his room by his hair.
As she carried him up the stairs, Triana spoke to him softly. "That was a fool thing to do, cub. The Weave just about jumped out of its skin when you touched it. If I hadn't been there to throttle that, it would have fried you to ash."
"I'm sorry. When I realized what made Mist react that way, I just had to help. I did it without thinking."
"I'll say you weren't thinking," she snorted. "But, I can't say I can be too mad at you. Mist's barren condition is alot of what makes her so contrary. She blames the humans for it, and that was what's kept her from opening up more. She has alot of anger built up inside."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone her age but her has children," she said as she used her tail to open the door to his room. "She's always felt alienated from the rest of us, hasn't felt like she belongs, because all her life, all she's wanted was to have one child of her own. The others treating her like she's a cripple didn't help," she grunted as she laid him down in his bed. "That's why she took Kimmie as a bond-child. Kimmie helped fill a void in her, but it wasn't enough. I told you before that Kimmie was the only reason that Mist isn't as bad off as she used to be. Now you understand why."
"Do you think Mist is going to be alright?"
"I think she will," she answered with a warm smile. "She's already feral, cub. She'll never be anything but that. But I think now she won't be quite so feral. With luck, a child of her own will mellow her out a bit. Maybe even enough to trust her own kind."
"I hope so. I just want her to be happy. I know how it feels to lose a part of your life, and never have anything be the same again."
Triana looked into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. "I guess you do at that, cub," she agreed as she pulled the blankets up for him. "I guess you do." She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Now get some rest, and no more unannounced stunts like that. You'll make me old before my time."
"Yes, mother," he said with a weary smile.
"You," she smiled, tapping him on the nose with the tip of a finger, "are as much a pain in my butt as Jesmind ever was."
"But you love me anyway, don't you, mother?" he challenged in a tired voice, but he managed to smile.
"Gods help me, yes," she laughed. "I wonder which god I offended to have them keep throwing children like you in my lap."
"Maybe it's because you're the only one that can handle us," he said in a voice that took on a listless quality. The warm bed was working its magic on him, and he was drifting very close to the edge of sleep. "And I love you too."
And that carried him down into the unknowing realm of exhausted slumber.
Triana stared down at him for a moment, then she tucked the covers around him a bit more, with an utmost tenderness and awareness of the wound in his chest. Then she patted him on the back of his paw and left him to sleep.
Tarrin eased up out of a restful sleep slowly, becoming gradually cognizant of what was surrounding him. Triana and Dolanna were in the room with him. He could scent Dolanna right on top of him, and Triana was somewhere very close. He could hear her paws on the carpet; she was pacing. Triana tended to do that, as if sitting quietly was an impossible task for her. She seemed to almost always be moving.
"It is not unusual," Dolanna's voice reached him in his semi-conscious snooze. "I have seen him handle a child with the most exquisite tenderness one moment, and then turn and kill with a savagery that surprises me the next."
"That's normal," Triana replied. "We're an impulsive breed, Sorceress. We act on our emotions, usually before we consider the consequences. It's part of what makes us what we are. Were-cats like Tarrin and Mist tend to be more violent than the rest of us because they're feral, but they have that same general trait." Her voice grew stronger, probably because she turned to face his ears. "Tarrin's feral, but he still has a big heart. That causes his some problems, especially when he reacts positively towards someone that his instincts tells him to fear. Mist, on the other hand, has no such compulsion. She's utterly feral. But not for much longer, I hope."
"I thought that it was a condition that could not be changed."
"The condition, no. The severety of it, yes. There are degrees of ferality, Dolanna. Tarrin is what you may call a moderate case. Most of us are mildly feral. Mist is the extreme. Once you cross the line and go feral, you can't come back, but how you react in a situation can change. Tarrin can tolerate strangers, even talk to them when he has to. Mist absolutely will not tolerate them. Tarrin has the capability to add new members to his list of people he'll trust. If someone were to go out of their way and prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that they're worth his trust, he'll accept them. Mist won't. She'd probably kill anyone who tried, thinking that they were just trying to get close to her and hurt her when she lets her guard down."
"That's paranoia, Triana."
"That's part of being feral," she replied immediately. "When you're feral, there's only them and us. In Mist's case, there's only her and everyone else."
"But she trusts you."
"She tolerates me, the same way Tarrin can tolerate strangers," Triana said concisely. "She bows to my power, nothing more. It's submission to a greater strength, Dolanna. She does what I say because I can thrash her, and she knows it. But she doesn't trust me. The only reason she stayed was because I forced her to."
"Then why did she come?"
"Kimmie browbeat her into it," Triana answered. "Kimmie is the only one Mist comes close to trusting, and she doesn't even entirely trust even her. To put it in human terms, Kimmie is a good acquaintance. Not a child, not family, not even a friend. Just someone she can talk to. Kimmie faces death every time she speaks to Mist, because she knows that one bad word can set her off, and Mist wouldn't have any qualms about killing Kimmie. That's something that most of the others don't really appreciate as much as I do. Kimmie is the only one that
can get away with deflecting Mist's anger. I can't even do it. I have to rely on my strength, and physically intimidate Mist into submission. Kimmie does it with careful words."
"I can do the same to Tarrin, as can his sisters," Dolanna said in a thoughtful tone. "He would injure, even kill, anyone else who dared speak to him from anything other than a position of submission. I never realized how primal his personality had become."
"Primal. That's a good enough term," Triana agreed. "It's all about strength, Dolanna. Tarrin is stronger than everyone else. Anyone who doesn't understand that and accept it, anyone who doesn't submit to his dominance, is obviously challenging him. He has to respond to that. His trust in you and those other two lets you treat him as a submittant or equal rather than as a dominant. He recognizes your authority, and he bows to it, because he sees in you a strength greater than his own. He thinks of those other two as family, so they can treat him as an equal." She paused. "Are you about finished listening to us talk about you, cub?" she asked in a blunt tone.
Tarrin opened his eyes in time to see her turn and face him. "I didn't think you'd make it a private converstaion when you're in my room," he replied.
"No," she said. "I wouldn't say anything about you that I wouldn't say to your face. How do you feel?"
"Pretty good, actually," he said with a slight yawn. "Just aching, but I think that's normal."
"More or less," she agreed. "Now that Dolanna here has a better understanding of why you do some of the things you do, we hope that she'll be able to manage you a little better when I let you go."
"I had drawn some incorrect conclusions," Dolanna admitted to him. "Your instincts and motivations are much more complex than I initially thought."
"We may have instincts, but we're not animals," Triana said bluntly. "Humans have instincts too, but they don't listen to them. More the pity for you."
"What time of day is it?" he asked, looking out the window. The sky was cloudy, just on the verge of rain, and the continuous gloom of the clouds hid where the sun was.
"Not far from sunset," Triana answered. "You've been asleep most of the day. And you'd better never do that again," she warned with an evil glare.
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