Inevitably, he flew Northwest. It was unavoidable, he supposed, to confront the nexus of his queasy discomfort, the very eye of the storm which had thrown a dark pall over his entire life and existence. Anyway, T’oma the Hermit was wise, and would know what to do. He always did. So, as Autumn drew to a close and the first winter snows began in the high passes above the Hermit’s house, Ja’kh’redd trudged up the little path once again [...]
Read On 2 CommentsAutumn wore into winter, and Koja’so became the happy male slave of the little female he’d found, who was named Yisa. She was, as Ja’kh’redd had predicted, one of those hot-headed young females who thought far too often, and let it all leak out of her mouth. Then again, so did Koja’so, so many nights for them were spent yapping in their little, humble cave in the canyon-wall (on the heated sand side, for she’d begun to grow eggs, to Koja’so’s eternal pride and delight) about whatever Yisa had thought up for the day, ranging from how a Village should be run, to what kind of food was healthy for younglings. Koja’so ate it up, glowing with delight all day.
“I did not mate,” Ja’kh’redd confided in Koja’so, as they Hunted out in the wilderness, two days after the Week had ended for all the females. Everything had immediately resumed as before the Week, females coming and going as they pleased, visiting one another in their caves, the males ignoring any female but their own for another year. As violent as the last week had been, this week was equally peaceful.
“Wake up,” Koja’so growled, slapping his cheek.
Ja’kh’redd growled at the little Vidos, coming to himself and glaring. He sat brooding on the top of the cliffs, crouched over like a gargoyle on the sandstone ridges above the living-caves, eyes unfocused as he stared into the distance thinking of kitten. It was a hot, bright blue day and the desert wind was warm and brisk. He should feel energized and alive, but he felt strangely dour. He’d felt grumpy for a week.
Almost guiltily, Ja’kh’redd crept up beside the girl, and put his wing over her. Thomas was asleep in the tiny attached bedroom, snoring away loudly. He licked her ear once, pressing his muzzle into the back of her neck, and felt her stiffen. That was not usual; before, she’d always hugged back, the hug that Jared craved.
Sarai quickly improved, which was not merely a testament to Thomas’s skill as a Healer, but a remarkable miracle (and, Jared thought, proof of Thomas’s magical abilities). Within weeks she was able to sit at the table, and had begun to fill out with the game that Jared brought every night, and the fruits and supplies that Thomas grew or donated.
Later, when Jared returned, both of the humans nearly attacked him with their questions. He was made to sit down at once, and recount every detail of what he remembered from his first rescue of Sarai, from the smell of the smoke, to the color of the horses, to the paint on the wagons.
The girl grew stronger, and, captured heart and soul by that hug, Ja’kh’redd hardly left her side, except to foray into the forests halfheartedly looking for game. He always came back within a few hours, however, to crouch by her side and sing Vidos-hatching songs, or gently lay half of a wing over her as he watched her sleep.
In the morning, a foggy predawn without color and without a sound but the dripping of the moisture from the trees high above, Ja’kh’redd woke with a snort. He’d curled around a sack of grain unconsciously, using it as his pillow, and his back was sore. When he tried to move his wings, he realized why. He was still exhausted, but needed to know about kitten before anything else.