by Forthright
“Hello,” he offered a little breathlessly.
She prowled around him, looking him over, testing the air, taking her time.
Glint flushed, suddenly conscious that he wore his shabbiest breeches and scuffed boots. Having rolled out of bed to stalk the perimeter, he was unbrushed, unkempt, and probably smelled strongly of Waaseyaa.
But Marnoo paused to trail her finger along the ornate embroidery decorating his tunic. Approval shone in her gaze. “You are arrayed as finely as a lord at his bonding feast. And those you keep closest have covered you in the scents of peace, trust, and power.”
He was utterly tongue-tied.
“That’s good, right?” Path asked, “Now what?”
Marnoo’s lips curved. “Glint Starmark, First of Dogs, Friend of Beacons, Founder of Wardenclave, has my journey been worthwhile? Or will you send me into solitude?”
Glint sort of figured that her options weren’t quite so limited. Nor was she any more alone than he was. Moon was a solid presence, looking on with an indulgent expression. But Glint knew what she meant, so he said, “It’s not good to be alone.”
Path asked, “How do we accept?”
“An exchange,” prompted Moon.
Marnoo eased into Glint’s personal space, touched his cheek, then placed a staggeringly possessive kiss on his lips. “If you can tame me, I will take your name. If you claim me, our clan will increase in strength and beauty.”
She was quite … charismatic. Glint felt a little cornered and entirely outmatched. But humbled by this latest gift from the Maker’s hand. With the music of stars teasing at the far reaches of his senses, he tucked his brother’s gift into his sash in order to reach for her hands.
Low and gruff, he said, “For a gift. May I give you a name?”
Her brows arched. “Choose well.”
Glint pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering there, savoring the moment. Was this how it was for Bel, being chosen, having a choice? When Glint drew back, he was astonished to see a tiny silvery star marked her brow. Had it always been there?
No.
His heart swelled with awe and pride. His mark. His mate.
She tilted her chin invitingly, so he kissed her lips. Everything was happening so fast—finding, feeling, falling. But his blood sang a true note, and she whispered encouragement. So Glint Starmark faced his future and gave her a name. “Radiance.”
Tree
Several decades had passed since Waaseyaa planted the golden seed beside Glint’s front step. Neither of them had known quite what to expect. Under Waaseyaa’s careful watch, the tree took to earth and sky, gaining height with surprising speed, then doubling and tripling its girth until they had to move the threshold.
Glint tried to salvage the den by removing one wall, but the antiquated structure teetered into a heap that was little better than kindling. Radiance eagerly suggested a few changes when they rebuilt, and Glint belatedly realized that his bondmate was a patient, uncomplaining soul. They’d been living in a crowded shed for far too long.
With an eye to the future, they designed a spacious home with two ways in. One faced the village, a public entrance to the clan home of one of Wardenclave’s five Amaranthine founders. The second entrance remained private, with its threshold resettled at what Waaseyaa deemed a safe distance from his tree.
Here, Waaseyaa had a little home of his own, looking out over the same old pasture where Glint still romped with the new generations of Kith pups born to the pack. Both the pasture and the tree towering over it were still heavily warded against notice. Thanks to Salali’s expertise, citizens of Wardenclave tended to forget that Waaseyaa’s twin dominated the mountaintop.
Once they were sure of the variety, Linlu Dimityblest disappeared for several seasons, traveling to one of the secret communities where the remnants of ancient groves clung to life. Without ever saying where he’d been or how he’d managed it, the moth clansman returned with five children in tow. Each wearing a special pendant, each carrying a golden seed.
The Alpenglow clan prepared homes at a modest distance from the Starmark holdings—three hilltops over and downwind. The horse clan became companions and caretakers for the children, whose plantings were the beginnings of a new grove.
“Why not closer to Waaseyaa?” grumbled Glint. “Two of them are girls; one of them might have made a good bride.”
Linlu nodded sympathetically. “Who knows how much havoc one tree may cause? Especially if Waaseyaa’s twin manifests as a female. Better to watch and wait, lest we take an unwise step.”
Glint paused and paled. “Do you mean to say that the stories about the fruit of an Amaranthine tree are true?”
“Quite … efficacious,” Linlu said mildly.
“And the pollen itself?” he asked, gazing warily up into the branches overshadowing his home.
“Intoxicating.” With a soft smile and a suggestive hand gesture, he added, “Invigorating.”
“How often does it bloom?”
“The interval is usually five years.”
Glint cleared his throat. “Is this the reason more than half of the females in the village are carrying?”
“Your bondmate included.” Linlu laughed softly. “Congratulations.”
He wasn’t entirely sure why he should be so embarrassed. Linlu’s family saw such regular additions, they already boasted a tribute. “A baby boom can only benefit the community.”
“Agreed. The reavers are no longer in danger of disappearing, and the tree-kin have found another safe haven.” The moth’s gaze lingered on the large tree. “We are making a difference.”
That same autumn, the cry came.
“Glint! Glint, I need you!”
There were times when it was difficult for Glint to maintain his self-imposed pace, but he managed to keep to an admittedly brisk walk in answer to his boy’s call. Bursting through his back door, he stumbled to a halt before Waaseyaa.
He sat amidst roots that rose in smooth swirls, tangling around Waaseyaa’s customary spot as if creating a throne for him. And he was hugging a naked child with a headful of blossoms where his hair should be.
Waaseyaa’s eager expression told Glint everything, but he still asked, “What have we here?”
“My brother woke up.”
The child was a beauty, with skin like fine-grained wood and thick-lashed eyes with a decidedly seductive tilt. Outwardly, he couldn’t have been older than six, but Glint could tell he’d be trouble once he grew into the saucy allure for which storybook trees were famed.
Glint crouched before the pair and reached out to gently touch the cascade of sunset orange petals.
The tree-child caught and kissed it.
“Affectionate,” Glint remarked.
Waaseyaa’s lips quirked. “Extremely.”
Glint sat on the ground, held out both hands, and found himself with his arms around a fabled imp. Would wonders never cease? “Do you have a name, boy? Or must I guess?”
“Brother named me.” With a flash of dimples and a flutter of lashes, he sweetly said, “I am Zisa.”
“It means orange,” Waaseyaa murmured.
“Welcome, Zisa. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I know.” The child was suddenly nose-to-nose with Glint. “I know everything.”
Glint rolled his eyes toward Waaseyaa. “Precocious.”
“Endearingly.”
Waaseyaa showed every sign of being smitten with his impish counterpart. That was good. He needed a distraction, and Zisa seemed the sort of boy to … well, to demand too much attention. Glint decided that counted as a family resemblance.
“Here, I have kept my word.” Glint couldn’t help feeling relieved by the wild beat of Path’s tail against the ground. Slouching into the Kith’s bulk, he showed off his newborn son, swaddled in a blanket he’d embellished himself, its frippery and flourishes only partially disguising the protective sigils he’d worked into the soft cloth Radiance had loomed from several brushings
of the Starmark clan. “I think there’s a resemblance.”
Thick auburn fuzz was already long enough to curl over ears that came to perfect points.
“My brother.” Path sounded awed.
“Yes. You and he are both firstborn.” Glint looked up into Path’s face. “You each bear a great responsibility to our pack.”
“Did you name him?”
“Oh, indeed.” Glint tickled the pup’s cheek, encouraging him to open copper eyes.
The little one’s nose twitched, his lips pursed, and without any additional warning, he opened his mouth and howled.
Path was snickering, and Glint chuckled as well.
“Did you call him Noisy?”
“Apt though your suggestion may be, it’s too late. Radiance and I agreed. We’ve named him for the future. This is Harmonious.”
THE END
never more than
FORTHRIGHT
a teller of tales who began as a fandom ficcer. (Which basically means that no one in RL knows about her anime habit, her manga collection, or her penchant for serial storytelling.) Kinda sorta almost famous for gently-paced, WAFFy adventures that might inadvertently overturn your OTP, forthy will forever adore drabble challenges, surprise fanart, and twinkles (which are rumored to keep well in jars). As always... be nice, play fair, have fun! ::twinkle::
FORTHWRITES.COM
Songs of the Amaranthine is a collection of short stories set in FORTHRIGHT’s Amaranthine universe. Before the Emergence, the clans were nothing more than whispers and mysteries and legends and lore. But every so often—in out-of-the-way places or shockingly close to home—an unsuspecting person stumbles into a fateful encounter with someone who is decidedly other.
An eclectic collection, spanning continents and centuries. Tales of adventure, discovery, friendship, rescue, belonging, and love. Each short story stands alone and can be read in any order.
Amaranthine Saga
Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
Tamiko and the Two Janitors