Page 166 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Endzoh
W hen I hear tell of what Larzon has done to my Carrie, I am so angry it becomes difficult to breathe. Every part of me wants to hurt him, to grind his face into the ground until he knows better than to do anything to upset my female.
Fortunately for Larzon, I am not so out of control as to act on those impulses. Though it would give me a degree of satisfaction, it will not do anything to improve the situation.
There is a weight in the air, like the moment before a downpour starts, as Darran and Gregar approach the fire, looking round at the faces gathered there.
There is a heaviness to their features, also, and though I know it will sting Larzon’s pride to be spoken to by his chief and ours - that it might even make him more disagreeable - I am glad that it is going to happen.
I do not want my Carrie to feel that his actions go unpunished.
“It is disappointing to me that I must speak with you, Larzon,” Darran says.
He is not an elder yet, but he is approaching that age. And though we are all males full grown, there is not one of us that does not sit up a little straighter to hear him speak in such solemn tones. We are raised to respect our elders, to fear disappointing them.
“What is it that you must speak with me about?” Larzon says, and I do not know him well enough to decide if he does not know or if he pretends not to.
“You have bothered one of the females, Larzon.” Darran gestures to where Liv is standing, watching the conversation, Sally at her side helping her to understand our words. “Your chieftess is much angered by this.”
Liv has always held much fire in her spirit, but I have never seen it burn as bright as it does in this moment, her anger stoking it to an enormous size. Larzon glances between his chief and our chieftess, and I watch his features harden as he chooses defiance as his response.
“Bothered? I only sought to learn her name and to give her the gift of a flower. It is a thing that human females like, so Vantos says.”
Vantos’ expression is full of displeasure at having this attributed to him, but he does not lower himself to arguing back. It does not matter, anyway, for Larzon’s words do not sway Darran or Gregar.
“And did she want to receive this gift?” Darran says.
Larzon frowns. “It is just a flower.”
“It could be a flower or a stone or all the stars in our sky. If it is an unwelcome gift, it is unwelcome.”
Darran does not raise his voice by much, but his tone has strength enough to make even Ahnjas stop chattering and look in our direction. Larzon has the look of a cornered merka beast.
“Refusing a gift is ill-mannered,” he says, sniffing. “We have both perhaps misunderstood each other.”
“Giving someone what you present as a gift when you intend it as trade is ill-mannered,” Darran barks. “Do not try to persuade me you would have been satisfied simply to give it.”
“I wanted only her name, so I might know what to call her. Is that such a terrible thing to desire?”
“Her name is Carrie,” Gregar says. “And she cannot speak to give it to you, even if she wished to. Something you might have noticed if you had given any attention to her actions while you tried to press her for the information you desired. And know that I say her name now only so that there is no confusion amongst my brothers of whom we speak. So that they know who they are to make sure you stay away from.”
Larzon’s orange eyes blaze, and I suspect he is about to regret opening his mouth more than even I ever have.
“What right do you have to keep me away from my female?”
“What right do you have to claim her as yours?” Darran’s voice is almost a roar, and I spy Lorna enveloping Ahnjas in her arms, soothing him so he is not frightened by Darran’s fury.
“They choose their mates!” Larzon roars back. “We raskarrans must adapt and also choose. As Vantos chose Rachel, I choose her.”
The silence that follows this statement drives the buzzing in my head up to a sharp whine. There is a pitiful desperation in Larzon’s words and his manner of speaking them. Callif was right. Behind the anger and the stubbornness, he is afraid that he will always be alone.
It is an inevitability we have all faced down and made our peace with. In this way, our sisters are a cruel kind of torment. Hope for the village and our future, yes, but not enough. Not near enough.
“Lina chooses,” Gregar says, his voice low and steady. “It is how it has always been, and how it continues to be. Lina speaks to our heartspaces if a female is intended for us. Does your heartspace hear her voice? Does she direct you to Carrie?”
“Yes,” Larzon says immediately, but as soon as the word is out, the conviction in his expression wavers. “I think so. How is a male supposed to be certain about such things?”
“If you were intended for Carrie, you would know,” Vantos says. “And you would be devastated at the thought that you had frightened her, not arguing the truth of your feelings.”
His voice is calm, but not the calm of a warm evening spent relaxing by the fire. It is the calm of the moment before lightning strikes. Larzon opens and closes his mouth several times, but decides protesting further is not wise.
“I have truly frightened her?” he says eventually, the defensiveness in his tone gone. “I do not understand. What cause has she to be frightened of me?”
“You are much bigger than her and you have a temper,” Gregar says. “She has suffered an attack from the Cliff Top tribe. She knows not all raskarrans are good in their nature. Why should she believe that you are?”
“I would never do anything to hurt a female.”
The defensive note is back in Larzon’s voice.
“No,” Darran says. “I know you to be an honourable male, despite some lapses in judgement. But she does not, and you have done nothing to show her.”
I watch as Larzon’s expression falls, shame creeping into his features. He bows his head.
“It was not my intention.”
“I accept that as truth,” Gregar says. “And so too does my Liv. Regardless, you are not to approach Carrie again until such a time as she is prepared to forgive your actions. And I think for this evening it would be best if your duties involved a patrol on the furthest outskirts of our territory. I will have one of my warriors accompany you, so that you might learn the route.”
He looks around at those of us who are nearby, his eyes settling on me for a moment.
Often he chooses me to accompany others when there has been a dispute or some other issue, for he knows I do not get involved.
When Vantos mated to Rachel, I was assigned patrols with Vantos, because Gregar knew I would not hassle him for information he was not prepared to give.
But Gregar does not know how deeply involved I am in this incident, and though I have never denied my chief anything he has requested, I find myself beginning to snarl at the thought of having to spend any time with Larzon.
“Darsha has been complaining that he needs to take a walk beneath the trees this day,” Rardek says, his voice as casual as it ever is.
But his eyes cut to me just briefly, and I think he knows more than he says.
Darsha sits up, his expression one of betrayal, but Rardek shoots him a glare and so Darsha does not complain.
I suspect Gregar sees all of this as well as I do, but for all Rardek can behave like a fool, he rarely does things without some purpose.
We may all at times struggle to fathom the reason Rardek does what he does, but Gregar is wise enough to trust that there is one.
“Darsha, then,” he says, nodding.
Darsha gives a heavy sigh as he rises to his feet, but he turns to Larzon without animosity. “It is a long walk to that outpost. We should take food, for we will not make it back in time for the evening meal.”
Wisely, Larzon does not make any protest, just follows after Darsha, his eyes firmly on the ground.
Gregar looks round to the rest of us, including his own tribe brothers in his address, I think to soften the blow to Darran’s tribe.
“I do not wish to hear of any more such incidents,” he says. “It does not make me a happy male when my linasha comes to me so displeased. She cares greatly for her tribe sisters, so if they are upset, then she is upset, and then I am upset. We are raskarrans. We treat our females better than this.”
Darran does not speak, but his silent disapproval is back up for Gregar enough.
The mood about the village does not lift much.
Darran’s brothers are sullen and displeased.
More than once, I notice them looking at the females in almost an accusatory way.
My Carrie does not reappear during the afternoon.
Lorna takes two plates of food away from the fire during the evening meal and does not return.
I do not blame my female for hiding away.
It is what I have done in many circumstances.
But I find I miss being able to glance across the gathering, glimpsing one of her sweet smiles.
The buzzing in my headspace does not cease, and I wish to go to her hut, to knock on her door and see that she is okay.
But even if I had Rardek’s skill with words, I do not think I could explain to Darran’s aggrieved brothers how my doing so is any different to Larzon’s actions.
So I sit in my seat, not engaging. Grateful that at least I do not have to look upon Larzon’s angry face.