Page 151 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TWO

Endzoh

I try to keep my expression neutral as I watch Gregar introduce Darran to his Liv. It is not normally something I have any difficulty with. Often my brothers have teased me for my lack of expressiveness, saying that I must have few thoughts in my headspace for them to show so little on my face.

I do not lack thoughts. They just do not take the same shape as the thoughts of my brothers. Where they value companionship and the tribe, I prefer solitude. Where they like loudness and conversation, I prefer quiet.

Only today I fear my thoughts are rather more plain on my face than usual. That my discomfort is obvious to anyone who looks upon me.

I take a long, slow breath. Try to quiet all the noise in my headspace.

On a good day, it is like a hum in the back of my head, right near the place where my neck meets with my skull.

A small annoyance. Ignorable. Taking my patrols alone, or spending time in my hut, is usually enough to keep it from rising in volume.

There will be no solitude for the rest of this day.

Or for many that follow it, I suspect. That thought alone is enough to raise the hum to a buzz, the vibrations of it crawling out over the skin at the back of my neck.

But I fight to keep the scowl off my face.

Clench my fists to stop myself from itching at my skin.

“I cannot express how good it is to see you here,” Gregar says to Darran.

“Nor can I express how much gladness has been in my heartspace as we have travelled towards you,” Darran replies. “Despite the weight of our belongings on our backs.”

“Set down your burdens now. Huts have been prepared for you ahead of your arrival, and you will find them sufficiently stocked for one night. We can attend to unpacking fully in the morning, when your backs ache less.”

“I thank you,” Darran says, casting his eyes over his tribe. “For we are most weary.”

They do look weary. Disheveled from their travels, their skin drawn from days of physical labour without soft beds to lie in at night.

The forest can be unforgiving when you travel long distances through it.

If it is not biting bugs, or the heat, it is the rain and the constant damp of your clothes against your skin.

This close to the big rains, the heat is not so terrible, but the rains are worse.

Colder, longer. And Darran’s brothers will have had to protect the belongings they have transported - their lives packed up in the crates placed at the edge of our village.

Travelling any distance with your life on your back would wear a male down.

And yet there is a brightness to them, an eagerness in their eyes as they look around at us. It is an eagerness I expect in the mating age males, but I see it in the eyes of the elders as well - a shine that only grows brighter the longer they watch Liv where she stands at Gregar’s side.

I suppose it is not so strange that they are eager to see female faces.

We have gone a long time without seeing them.

Almost our entire living memory for some of us.

The elders may have lost their linashas and their younglings many seasons ago, but there is still joy they can take in the matings of others, the younglings that are born from them. Hope restored to our people once again.

I cut my gaze over to where the females have gathered, unsurprised to find my apprentice at the front, her arms folded across her chest as she surveys the males in front of her.

I am not so good at reading human expressions as I am raskarran ones, but I know Khadija better than most of her sisters, and so I know it is a look of warning she has in her eyes.

My chest puffs up, pride in my apprentice swelling inside me.

She has no cause to be wary of Darran’s tribe, but it pleases me to see her warrior’s spirit on display.

Her sisters are more nervous, grouped together a little distance back from the crowd.

I cannot blame them in this - Darran’s brothers gaze at them as though enchanted.

And perhaps they are. I remember when I first saw our tribe sisters.

How their strange, delicate beauty seemed to capture some part in my heartspace I had not known existed.

They were filthy and weary from their time spent on the sands and travelling, but it did not diminish their loveliness.

I imagine to Darran’s brothers - who are unused to their faces - they are almost painful to look upon.

But it does not stop them from staring, and such open interest will only make some of the more timid females as uncomfortable as it makes me.

“I trust that Vantos and Rachel made it back to you safely?” Darran says, looking over to the females. Rachel is at the front of the group, and she smiles, waving a greeting.

Gregar nods. “They both spoke with great gratitude of your warm welcome.”

“Ch,” Darsha huffs beside me. “I do not recall Vantos saying anything of the sort.”

“Too busy fretting over his linasha for such niceties,” Paskar says, the laughter clear in his voice despite its low volume.

“And I am told you are to be a father!” Darran’s voice booms with his delight in this, startling some of the jumpier females. But he is gentle again when he turns to Liv. “May Lina bless you both with a happy, healthy youngling.”

The slightest line appears between Liv’s brows as she struggles to follow Darran’s words.

It is afternoon, and Sally is resting in her bed, tired by the youngling she is so close to birthing, so Liv looks to Rachel.

Rachel has taken to raskarran words well, and likely knows all the words Darran has used from her healer's training. But she is still a beginner, and under the pressure of everyone’s attention, her cheeks darken as she raises her shoulders and hands to express her lack of understanding.

Liv nods, then calls, “Jassal?”

The youngling peers round from behind Rachel, both brows raised in question.

A startled gasp sounds, a ripple of conversation passing through Darran’s brothers as they take in the sight.

Liv gestures for Jassal to come to her side, and the youngling does so, though not without a wary glance at the raskarrans staring down at her.

If Darran’s brothers were enchanted before, now they are stunned. Jassal does not normally object to attention, but the way she slides her hand into Liv’s and grips tight tells me she is nervous.

“ Canyootellmewoteesed, ” Liv says.

Jassal glances between Darran and Liv, before taking a breath and speaking.

“ Hesed may Lina maykethebabyhealthy. ”

Her high little voice cuts across the silence. Darran’s elders watch her, their eyes shimmering with the water that gathers in them.

Liv smiles up at Darran. “Thank you.”

At Darran’s slight quirk of a brow, Jassal laughs, her shyness forgotten in a moment. The elders smile at each other at the change in her demeanour. Namson has often said that Jassal’s ways remind him of his own younglings. I wonder if Darran’s elders are similarly reminded.

“Humans don’t say ‘you have my thanks’,” Jassal says. “They say ‘thank you’. I have told them it is not the raskarran way of speaking, but they do not remember to say it properly always.”

Darran does not speak for a long moment. Then his features soften, and he drops into a squat so he is at Jassal’s level, giving her a fatherly smile.

“And you are Jassal?”

“Yes.”

“How many rainy seasons do you have, Jassal?”

“Nine.”

“Nine?” Darran cannot quite hide his surprise. Jassal is small for nine seasons, but that is her mother’s blood in her. “That is an age for trainer bows and learning to climb the tallest trees. Have your parents been teaching you?”

Jassal giggles. “Mama doesn’t climb. She has no claws. She teaches me letters and writing and other things from her world. Papa teaches me to use a bow.”

Darran grins. “And you speak your chieftess’ words as well as ours?”

“Uhuh,” Jassal nods, standing a little straighter. “Mama says I have two tongues, but I only have one. Look.”

She pokes her tongue out at him, which makes Darran laugh uproariously. He rises to his feet, grinning as he ruffles her hair, before turning to Gregar.

“Vantos made no mention of younglings.”

There is no accusation in his voice, just a question.

“Life in this village has changed much these past few sunsets. We will tell you the tale of it this night, and you will find it hard to believe, even with the evidence of our truthfulness before your eyes.” Then Gregar gestures to Darran’s brothers.

“But first, let us see you settled in your new homes.”

Darran grins. “I am grateful you have prepared so for our arrival. We will all of us be eager for our beds this night, though some of us for a different reason than aching bones.”

“I hope many are blessed,” Gregar says, clapping Darran on the shoulder once more.

“It is ill of me, but I think I will feel better if few of Darran’s tribe are blessed,” Darsha mutters under his breath.

His face is like a thunderstorm, his arms folded across his chest in an entirely different way to Khadija. My apprentice seeks to look fierce. Darsha seeks to hold in his bad mood.

Rardek laughs. “We have all had such uncharitable thoughts in our headspaces these sunsets of late. I do not think Lina will think too poorly of us. She would not have taught us the importance of sharing our resources if she did not know how difficult it is for the male with nothing to watch the male with everything.”

“I would not share my linasha. You would have to keep your nothing.”

“And if the circumstances were switched, I would be the same,” Rardek says, grinning. “So I would not begrudge you. Much.”

I do not respond to their words, and nor do they expect me to, but Rardek still turns his keen eyes on me.

“Will you be most saddened if Khadija finds her way into someone else’s dreams this night?”