Page 218 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

“Nelsah survived, but she was never well again. She would tire so easily, needing to sleep through great parts of the day. The smallest exertions exhausted her. She ate like the smallest bird - little morsels of food, nothing more. She could not gain weight, and she did not grow as tall as she should have. She could not walk, needed carrying if ever she had to go somewhere. She remained sick for the rest of her life.”

My Sam’s grip is so tight, if her claws were less soft, she might have drawn blood.

“I’m so sorry, Dazzik, that’s awful. Awful for her and for the people who loved her.”

I know she includes me in this, and I am grateful that she is not a jealous female, that she understands my love for Nelsah was as a brother, not as someone who could have been her mate.

“The sickness did not just take the females,” I say, continuing with the sorry tale, not wanting to linger here any longer than necessary.

“It took the heartspace of the tribe. Some were able to carry on. Those with strong chiefs. Walset’s tribe is one.

It was not always Walset’s. An elder before him kept his spirit strong, held his brothers to Lina’s ways.

To hope. But my tribe… We were not so fortunate. ”

“Basran,” my Sam says.

Clever female.

“Basran,” I confirm. “He was my tribe brother a very long time ago.”

“I thought when you were fighting him… it seemed too personal to just be about me. I thought there was bad blood between you.”

“Bad blood.” This is a human way of saying things, but I find it is appropriate. “Very bad blood.”

I let the next part of the sad tale play out from my memories. We turn to watch as Basran storms into the room, my younger self going to meet him. Looking at us both now, I can see I never stood much chance against him then. He was bigger, stronger, meaner. I was barely a male full grown.

“Get out of my way, Dazzik.”

“She is resting, you should not disturb her.”

“Resting, bah, all she does is rest. She cannot hide away in that bedroom forever. She is a grown female, and it is time she does her duty to the tribe.”

I feel my Sam stiffen beside me, and I think she has guessed what Basran means by duty.

“You are not her mate, Basran.” My younger self is cold with fury.

“Things are changed around here. Lina’s ways… what use is there in following them when Lina is dead and gone? Died with the rest of the females. We have the only remaining female now, and it is only right that she should try to breed a new generation.”

My Sam scoffs. “He’s not thinking about children, he’s thinking about his own dick.”

She has the measure of him, then.

The scene fades away as I turn to her.

“I am sorry for what comes next,” I say. “I hope you do not think less of me for it.”

When I look round again, my younger self is sitting by Nelsah’s bedside, gripping her hand in his.

“ You must do this for me, Dazzik. You must.”

Her voice was always so quiet, so soft after the sickness, but in this memory it is strong, firm. I wonder if it is the truth of how that night was, or if I just remember firmness because of the determination in her eyes.

“You cannot ask this of me, Nelsah. How could you ask this of one who cares for you as I do?”

“I ask this of you because you care. Because you are the only one who cares enough.”

She takes a rattling breath, reaches beneath her pillow, draws out a knife.

“I am tired, Dazzik,” she says, pressing it into my hand. “I have been tired for a very long time.”

My Sam’s arms go around my face, drawing me to look at her.

“It’s okay,” she says, “you don’t have to relive this. Take us back to the tent.”

And I am weak, but I do just that, taking us back so that she does not have to see me slide that knife into Nelsah’s chest, pierce her heartspace, what lifeblood she has left spilling over my hands.

My Sam holds me, and I cling to her, the hurt and the shame of it all ripping through me afresh. My linasha pets my hair, makes soothing sounds, and I do not know what I did to deserve a mate with so kind and forgiving a spirit.

“I’m so sorry, Dazzik,” she says after a while. “That must have been awful for you.”

“It was no more than I deserved,” I say.

“But what happened after…” I swallow, my throat thick with emotion.

“Basran was furious, of course. He had always been reckless, angry, but as the seasons went on, he grew more and more dangerous. The elders of the tribe held him close, hoping their care and guidance would draw him back. But a male that would slake his own thirst on a female as grievously sick as Nelsah still was - I knew he was grown too dangerous, too mad to be safe around my brothers. So I called him out. Challenged him on what he had done. But I underestimated the fear he inspired in the others. Fear of him, fear of what would become of the tribe if he were no longer part of it. He had become a vengeful male, and the others feared, I think, that if he were banished, he would shatter what bonds remained between the rest of us in his outrage.”

I touch the unmarked skin on my face, feel the phantom ache of claws digging into me there. My Sam places her hand over mine, her touch so delicate, so warming. It brings me back to the present, banishes the memory of pain.

“I fought him, but he was stronger. The better fighter. No one came to my aid, no one stood with me against him, and when he made me outcast…”

“None of them tried to reason with him. No one defended you,” my Sam says, and I take much comfort in the tremble of rage that shakes her voice. “Oh, Dazzik.”

“So you see, my Sam, I have no tribe of my own. An outcast male is outcast from all tribes. His face is scarred so that any male may look on him and know him for what he is. Walset would have taken one look at me and had his warriors run me off, if he were merciful enough not to just strike me down. This was why I could not come to you, why I said I could not care for you. My supplies were low, yes, and I would have failed to keep you well fed, but I am tribeless also. It is no way for you to live. I would not have you suffer in exile with me.”

I bow my head, the largest part of my shame laid bare before her, and I wait. Wait for her judgement.