Miserable conditions.
Tarrin growled a bit as a rivuletof cold water funneled out of his hood and chilled his shoulder and upper arm, feeling it sink into the cloth of his shirt. The rain had been heavy, cold, and very unpleasant for nearly four days, and it was something which he'd hoped to avoid. He'd gotten a bit tired of rain, making it dark and oppressive despite the fact that it was well after noon, making his homecoming seem strangely ominous. Spring rains were a yearly occurrance in Aldreth, the chilling rains lasting for days, even rides, but they were an event much anticipated by the people of Aldreth. The ends of the rains heralded the beginning of the planting season, and two rides after the rains ended, the festival of Summer's Dawn was held on the village green. Those two rides were spent feverishly planting for the summer, and the fesitval marked a respite from the heavy work, a holiday to celebrate the end of the heavy labor.
Aldreth. He had yearned for the place, dreamed about it, thought of it, for many months now, and finally, he had come back. He stood on the road to Watch Hill, shaking some of the water off of his large cloak, trying to figure out how he had gotten lost and ended up so far south of his home village. He had been aiming for his old farm, to pass through it on the way to Aldreth, to see what was left and remember good times gone by. It had to be the rain. It made him a bit listless, a bit unwatchful. He had been on the meadow path leading to the farm, but he must have accidentally turned onto the blackrock path instead of staying on the meadow path. The blackrock path led to a large black rock-hence its name-that rested about a longspan south of the village. His mind was so occupied with seeing things, he never noticed that he had made a wrong turn. He hoped his father never found out about this, he'd never hear the end of it.
It had to be the expectation of it. He had been looking forward to this for a long time now, and it had been the main motivation for crossing the Frontier as quickly as he did. He travelled in ten days what he thought would have taken him fifteen, because any time he was not sleeping, he was running. He had been so excited to come back to Aldreth, to see it on his way to Suld, that it made his attention wander off what he was doing much of the time. That wandering attention had gotten him into trouble on two separate occasions, proving that the Frontier was not a place to be if one couldn't keep his mind on what he was doing. The first altercation had been when he had crossed the territory of a Were-boar without stopping the required three days to let him know that he was passing through. He had seen the signs, but he had been in too much of a hurry to stop and wait. The Were-boar had caught up with him while he was taking a nap, and he had been very, very unpleasant. So unpleasant, in fact, that he had had the gall-perhaps the stupidity-to attack Tarrin. Tarrin did not take kindly to being attacked over something as silly as not saying hello, and reacted accordingly.
The next time he killed a Were-boar, he had told himself, he wasn't going to make the mistake of biting it. Were-boars tasted horrible.
The second altercation was probably the more dangerous of the two. He had been moving in a straight line, using Sorcery to keep him on the path to Aldreth, and he had blundered into the home range of a pack of Were-wolves. Were-wolves hated Were-cats with a passion, and Tarrin's presence in their territory was noticed almost immediately. That pack of fifteen Were-wolves was on Tarrin's trail immediately, and it was only by good fortune that he realized that he had wandered where he shouldn't have been, and turned away so he could get out of their range as quickly as possible. Tarrin wasn't going to tangle with an entire pack of Were-wolves, not if he could help it, and certainly not on their home ground.
What made it dangerous and a bit annoying was that the Were-wolves continued to pursue him even after he left their range. That annoyed Tarrin, for he had done what he was told to do, and yet they still weren't going to let him go. It annoyed him and offended him, for his pride was too much to continue running away from them. So he stopped in a clearing and waited for them. If they wanted him, he was going to oblige them.
What happened after that was probably going to get him into a great deal of trouble with Fae-da'Nar. The Were-wolves reached him and immediately attacked. Tarrin, who was already annoyed and still had the fresh memories of his tangle with the Were-boar in mind, wasn't in the mood to show neither mercy nor quarter. The Were-wolves showed no fear of a solitary Were-cat-until, of course, their numbers began bursting into flames at the wave of a paw from the Were-cat. Tarrin wasn't stupid enough to fight fifteen Were-wolves claw to fang, so he chastised them mightily with his magic. So mightily, in fact, that only three managed to live long enough to get out of the meadow.
Tarrin grew a dim opinion of his Were cousins at that point. If all Were didn't like the Were-cats, that was fine. But if they were going to attack him, they were going to pay the price for their stupidity.
Nobaka. The Sha'Kar word for fool.
Outside of those two little adventures, the passage through the Frontier had been uneventful, and a little blurred. He was running almost twenty hours a day now, just like a Selani, moving with a desparate urgency to reach Suld in time. Thoughts of that and daydreams of visiting Aldreth had occupied his mind and allowed him to run freely, making the time just fly by. It seemed like it was only a couple of days ago that he entered the Frontier. Then again, it did get a little unpleasant when the rains started. Tarrin tried to ignore it at first, but it was just too cold and too unpleasant. So he Conjured up a cloak that was waterproof. That helped, but it had been a while since his feet and trousers had been dry, and that cold, clammy feeling made the cool air that much more unpleasant.
The weather wasn't the only thing that had changed. The brown skin of his tan had steadily faded with the days under the forest canopy, away from the sun. He didn't look like an Arakite anymore, but he did still have a dark tan that made him look slightly bronzed, like an Arkisian with a light complexion.
The time in the Frontier hadn't been totally alone. Keritanima had been contacting him daily, and she kept to her new pattern of calling to him around noon every day to talk. Allia had also started doing that, but her calls came near sunset. It was good to keep in communication with his sisters, but there wasn't much that they could say through the amulets, because of the risks involved. It was usually little more than smalltalk, though Keritanima did pass on information through Jenna, letting his sister talk to him in that place that only the two of them could enter. More and more of her troops had arrived, and Keritanima had managed to convince the Council and most of the city that they were there to defend Suld against the possibility of an attack, not outright preparing for an attack they knew was coming. This was a logical conclusion, given that Dal armies were laying siege to Ultern, and were only ten days' march from the walls of Suld. The Wikuni and Vendari had done a good job to make what looked like general preparations, nothing extreme or specific, while doing their real preparing in the darkness of night. Tarrin had worried slightly that the Vendari honesty would ruin the subterfuge, but Vendari were warriors. They knew when to keep their mouths shut. They understood that surprise was a key to battle, and surprise could not be achieved if the enemy knew what to expect. They simply said nothing, and allowed their Wikuni comrades to do the lying for them.
He had also seen Jenna three times, taking time to join with the Weave and meet with her in the Heart. It was there that he learned what was really going on, for Keritanima told Jenna, and Jenna told him. Jenna hadn't managed to regain her powers yet, but he had already begun teaching her the broad generalities involved with using Weavespinner magic, and had also given her some instruction on how to use High Sorcery. He didn't like having to pause to do that, but Jenna's instruction was nearly as important as his reaching Suld. If he couldn't make it in time, Jenna's power may be the only thing standing between the ki'zadun and the Goddess. He wasn't going to let her enter a battle like that without preparing her for it. It was a great deal to ask of a fourteen year old-fifteen next month-but he had every confidence that Jenna would do the Goddess proud.
Jenna would be ready. She'd have her powers back in time. He was certain of it.
Tarrin looked up the road, then down the road, then up the road again. It seemed… travelled. Too travelled. The road usually didn't see a traveller a ride, but the muddy road had wagon ruts, hoofprints, and bootprints churned into its surface. Some of those bootprints were too large to be human. So it was true; Aldreth was under occupation. That made him a bit wary and fearful, and he was worried at what he might find there.
But showing up like this was not the smart thing to do. Absently, Tarrin shifted into his human form, sending his clothes and his sword into the elsewhere, then reached within and Conjured forth suitable plain, nondescript clothing for his human body, in the style common in Aldreth. The itch of holding the human shape had already started, but it wasn't anything that would become a problem any time soon. It would be best to drift in looking like a nearby farmer. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, feeling a bit weird that it wasn't pressing down on cat ears, Tarrin turned northwest, towards the village that had been his home for seventeen years.
The rain fizzled out as he turned a slight bend and found himself looking at the village he considered to be home, the village of Aldreth. A strange tumult of emotions rose up in him, seeing the familiar buildings and houses of his home village, but he did see changes. Some of the buildings were new, having been built on the foundations of old homes, but two houses that had once been there were gone, with only bare patches of soggy, muddy earth to mark their locations. One of them was the herbalist's shop and home, the other was the home of Darl Millen and his family, the village wheelright. The Road's End Inn still stood at the foot of the bridge over Cold Water Creek, but what worried Tarrin was the new, rather large log building that had been built beside it, a building who flew the flag of Daltochan.
It was a barracks. Two men stood flanking that door, wrapped in wet cloaks and looking miserable. Both men were unshaven and slovenly, and their pikes were in bad condition. Aside from those two men, there was nobody else to be seen, anywhere. It was almost eerie.
Tarrin came over the bridge and approached the Road's End Inn. The door was closed, but there was smoke wafting from the chimney to show him that it was indeed open. He opened the door and stepped inside, looking into the place and seeing that it had not changed in the slightest since the last time he'd seen it. It was still an open, bright room with a hearth and fire crackling, and candles hanging from an iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were six tables spread on the floor of the common room, and a low bar with casks of ale and wine behind it on the far wall, beside the door to the kitchen. Most of those tables were occupied by burly, unkempt men with black hair and bristling beards, wearing rusty chain jacks and splotched tunics under them. They had the look of Karn Rocksplitter; they were all Dal soldiers. About twelve of them, and they all looked hung over and unfriendly.
Wylan Ren was standing behind the bar, a slightly annoyed look on his face. He looked much thinner than Tarrin remembered, with dark circles under his eyes, and a very pinched mouth that looked out of place on the usually friendly, jovial fellow. Tarrin couldn't suppress a smile when he saw the man, who had been a friend to the Kael family for as long as Tarrin could remember, and he quickly made his way through the drinking soldiers to come stand in front of the bar.
"Can I help you, goodman?" Wylan asked in a hollow tone. Had the occupation taken that much out of the energetic man?
"I'm sure you could," Tarrin said to him, and that made Wylan's eyes pick up immediately. Though Tarrin looked more mature than Wylan probably remembered, Tarrin's voice hadn't changed.
"Tarrin?" he asked in a strangled, low tone. "Tarrin, is that you?"
"I'm afraid so," Tarrin grinned at him.
Wylan grasped his hand strongly and warmly, then reached over the bar and clapped the taller man on the back. "It's good to see you, my boy!" he said exuberantly, but still in a low tone. "But-" he looked around. "But I heard that you were, well, different looking."
Tarrin smiled ruefully. Father's letters, he had little doubt. Father had told the villagers some of what had happened. "It's true, Wylan," he admitted. "But I have a few tricks that let me move around without attracting much attention."
"Regardless of that, it's just so good to see you!" he said happily, motioning for Tarrin to sit at a stool by the bar. Wylan pulled up a tankard and filled it with ale, then set it in front of him before pulling up the stool he kept behind the bar and sitting down across from him. "How are your parents?"
"They're fine, and so is my sister," he replied. "But what is all this? What's happened here, Wylan?"
"What you see, I'm afraid," he sighed. "We don't have an army, my boy, so when the Dals came, we simply accepted it. Darl Millen and Lars the herbalist were killed during a nasty confrontation after they took over, and the Goblinoids burned down the houses of the Yeats, the Mikels, and the Longbranches. Jak is hiding in the forest now because he killed a Dal soldier after they burned down his house, and they retaliated by killing the rest of the family."
That made Tarrin wince. The Longbranches were good people. Myra and Stef Longbranch, the parents, were good-hearted people, and Lili Longbranch was a very cute little girl with a love of butterflies. Jak was one of Tarrin's few friends, and it hurt him that his friend had had to suffer through the deaths of his family members. "I'm sorry to hear that, Wylan," Tarrin said sincerely. "The Longbranches were good people."
"I know. Well, they had a large garrison here, but after the Goblinoids started to die off, they moved them out and left about twenty or so men here to enforce their law. I think the Forest Folk in the Frontier didn't like the beasts so close to their homes, so they came out and killed them off."
"Probably," Tarrin agreed. "The Forest Folk really hate Goblinoids."
"Outside of that, things have been pretty calm," he continued. "We don't give the soldiers much reason to do anything, and they leave us alone." He leaned in and whispered. "I suggest you don't raise too much attention. You look like a villager, but if these men realize you came from somewhere else, they'll arrest you."
"They'll try," Tarrin said in a grim tone that made Wylan's eyebrow raise. "I'm debating what to do about those soldiers before I leave."
"Just don't cause a scene, lad!" Wylan whispered. "Any you kill will just be replaced by others, and we'll be the ones to pay for it!"
"I wouldn't put you in danger, Wylan," Tarrin said calmly.
"Barkeep! More ale!" one of the Dal soldiers burst out.
Wylan gave Tarrin a roll of his eyes, then poured a tankard of ale and scurried out to the Dal soldier and handed it to him. The man took a drink of it, then spat half of it out onto the table. "This is swill!" the man said harshly to Wylan.
"It's all I have left," Wylan said flintily. "If you men would pay for what you drink, I'd have the money to buy better ale to replace what's gone." Wylan crossed his arms. "And when that's gone, I'll have to close the inn. I'll have nothing left."
"Stinking backwater," the soldier snorted. "Why don't they garrison us in Torrian? They have lots of ale there."
"Let's just confiscate the goods to run down to Torrian and buy it ourselves," one of the other soldiers suggested with an evil glint in his eye.
"We get nothing but local slop since the army moved the supply lines from here to moving through Torrian," another soldier complained. "I'm getting tired of wearing boots with holes in them."
Tarrin picked up at that. Moved the supply lines? Not getting anything? It sounded like the Dals had written off Aldreth as another conquered village, and its remoteness had caused them to more or less forget about it. That was something he very much liked to know. He could very well kill off the Dals and leave Aldreth free, without worrying about them suffering reprisals.
"If you hadn't have threatened the cobbler, he wouldn't have run off with his family into the forest, Kag," one man told the complainer sourly. "Then we'd all have new boots."
Garyth the cobbler, hiding in the forest? He was the village mayor!
A plan formed in Tarrin's mind. Right here, in this room, he had a large block of the Dal occupying force. If he killed them off, it would be a simple matter to finish off the remainders without too much danger to the village. Aldreth's remote location had caused the Dals to more or less forget about it, and that would give Tarrin enough time to ensure that they couldn't retake the village, no matter how meny men they had.
Wylan returned behind the bar and sat back down across from Tarrin. "I'm surprised you came here first, Tarrin," he said in a low tone. "Why, we all thought you'd have gone home first, and seen your wife."
"Wife?" Tarrin said with a scoff. "Wylan, I doubt I'm ever going to get married."
"Well, who's that woman that lives out on your old farm, then?" he asked curiously. "Garyth used to talk to her all the time before he started hiding. He said that you and her were-well, you were married."
"Wylan, I seriously doubt that any woman would marry me," Tarrin said with a chuckle.
"She's-well, she looks alot more like you than you do at the moment," he said delicately, looking at the Dal soldiers again.
Tarrin's eyes bored into Wylan. "What do you mean?"
Giving the soldiers a furtive look, Wylan put his hands on either side of his head and raised two fingers in a crude imitation of cat's ears.
"She is? She's living on the farm?"
Wylan nodded. "Garyth said she was waiting there for you. She's been living on the farm, raising her baby. The soldiers never go out there, and we villagers keep her a secret to make sure she's not hassled."
Mist? Could it be Mist? Mist knew where he had lived beforehand. "Why would she come out here?" Tarrin said in confusion, mainly to himself. "She wouldn't bring her son anywhere near a human settlement."
"Son? Garyth said she had a girl, not a boy."
"What?" Tarrin asked, his voice rising a bit higher than was good for him. "A girl?" he asked in a hissing tone. "The only woman I know with a child has a boy."
"She certainly knows you, Tarrin."
"What does she look like?"
"She's taller than me, with red hair and white-uh, white hair. She-"
Tarrin turned away from him so quickly that he nearly fell over. Jesmind! That was Jesmind! And Jesmind had a daughter! Why was she here? What possessed her to go get frisky with another Were-cat and then bring that child onto his farm? His mother would have an absolute fit! And that didn't count how it made him feel!
A whirlwind of emotions rose up in him, memories of Jesmind, of their fights and their intimacy, the longings and the anger he'd felt towards her after they separated. It all seemed to come crashing down over his head, because now, not three longspans from where he was standing, Jesmind was in his old house, on his old land, raising a baby in a place where it-and she-did not belong. Tarrin clenched a hand into a fist, so hard that his knuckles turned white, as the anger of feeling betrayed by the woman he once loved nearly overwhelmed his sense of logic, logic that told him to go see Jesmind and find out what was going on before flying off the handle.
He knew that Jesmind was her own woman, and had the right to dally with any male she chose, but how dare she bring that child back to his home! It was an outrage!
"Here now, the young man here looks a tad miffed," one of the Dal soldiers laughed evilly. "Did your girlfriend throw you out?"
The gaze Tarrin levelled on that soldier was very nearly inhuman, a look of absolute, utter disregard for the man's life that would have even done Tarrin's Were-cat form proud.
"It looks like this one has an attitude problem, Gart," another soldier said with an ugly laugh. "Think we should teach him some manners?"
"Gentlemen, please," Wylan said quickly. Wylan fully understood the incredible danger those men were now in, if his father had written anything about Tarrin's change of personality. "I beg you, not here, not now. Leave the lad be, he's just received some bad news."
"Aww, poor little backwater sop," the man that had first spoken to him, a narrow-faced man with pockmarks and a missing front tooth, said with a nasty grin. "What, your chicken just died? Or maybe your woman found out what it was like to get it from a real man, eh?"
That was one remark too many. With an outraged howl, Tarrin burst through his human clothing as he changed form, returning to his towering, menacing Were-cat body, and then immediately hooked his claws into the offendor before the man could even register that his life was about to end. With a grasping paw and a quick twist, Tarrin literally tore the man's head off, sending a showering geyser of blood flying from the wrenched neck. The other men in the inn began screaming in terror and jumping to their feet, but their shock and surprise spelled the end of their lives as the enraged Were-cat tossed the dead body aside and waded into their midst, claws sending blood, flesh, cloth, bits of armor, even wood from tables and chairs flying as he entered a frenzy of absolute destruction. The terrified screams became wails of the mortally wounded and the dying as Tarrin savaged the entire common room, killing anything he could reach, heading off every man that tried to flee for the door. The few that did manage to draw weapons and feverishly fight for their lives found that they did absolutely nothing to this nightmare before them, that stabbing the monster only made it that much more angry.
It was over in a surprisingly short time. Tarrin stood in the middle of the destroyed common room, standing in the middle of the destruction he had wrought. He stood on shards of table and chair, on the eviscerated flesh and exposed bone of piles of meat that could no longer be identified as human. The floor and walls, even the ceiling, were covered in spattered blood and the occasional morsel of flesh that had managed to stick to the whitewashed walls or timber-beamed ceiling. Panting heavily to regain control of himself, to ease himself out of the rage, the blood-streaked Were-cat closed bloody paws into fists and forced the Cat back into its place within his mind.
"By Karas!" Wylan managed to squeal, rising up from behind the bar and looking at the destruction wrought in his common room. "Tarrin, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Wylan," Tarrin said in an emotionless tone. "Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up. I promise."
"Eron said you-he never said anything about this!"
"Does it surprise you that he didn't?" Tarrin asked calmly, standing fully erect and feeling himself fully in control. "I can see it now. 'By the way, Wylan, did I mention that my son is now a homicidal maniac?'"
Wylan gave him a strangled look, then actually laughed. "Well, if you say it that way, I can see why," he admitted. "Are you feeling-"
The door to the inn opened, and four more Dal soldiers were standing there, looking in with sudden horror and revulsion. One of them actually turned and vomited. "Good gods!" another called. "That thing killed them all!"
"Get it!" another called, an officer by the looks of him, raising his sword to attack.
These four lasted little longer than the first twelve, but the only difference was that Tarrin attacked them with a rational mind. He swatted aside a sword and then casually decapitated the leading attacker, the officer, with a twist of the paw and then a wicked backhanded swipe of his claws. Before the dead body fell, he had the man behind the first in his clutches, with his claws sank into the man's chest, then picked him up as if he weighed no more then a small dog and hurled him head first into the wall. The other two men, who had not rushed in to the attack, turned to flee, but Tarrin grabbed both of them by the backs of their chain jacks and hauled them into the inn, picked them up, then smashed their heads together with enough force to break their necks and shatter their skulls.
That was sixteen. There could only be four or five more left, and Tarrin wasn't going to leave them around to cause trouble. "Excuse me a moment, Wylan," Tarrin said politely, then he ducked under the door and left the inn. He saw that the guards at the door of the barracks were gone, so he let himself in and then stalked through the barracks quietly and deliberately, hunting down the others. Three he found in their beds, and were dispatched without arousing them from slumber. Another was found in an office, who looked to be the barracks commander, and he too died without much fuss, though Tarrin had to drag him back in through a window while he screamed and begged for mercy. The last one was a challenge, for he had been in an outhouse behind the barracks, and had seen the the man Tarrin killed in the office try to escape out the window, so he ran.
He didn't make it to the edge of the forest. Tarrin caught up with him, then killed him with a single claw to the back of the neck in mid-stride.
Using Sorcery to clean the blood off of himself and repair the holes in his clothes, Tarrin returned to the inn and stepped into the carnage. Wylan still crouched behind the bar, only his eyes and the top of his head visible. "Sorry about that, Wylan," Tarrin said calmly as the rain began again. "Let me take care of this."
Weaving together a flow of Air and Water, Tarrin stripped the bloody mess off the floor and the walls, even the ceiling, then caused it to drift out the door. He used a weave of Earth to dig out a suitable hole for the mangled refuse, then it was placed inside and buried neatly. Then he reached within, touching the core of his Druidic power, and Created tables and chairs that resembled the old ones, though they had the look of new furniture rather than the scratched, pitted appearance of the old ones.
Wylan rose up uncertainly, looking at Tarrin with just a little fear in his eyes. That stung Tarrin a bit, but he couldn't help it. It was part of what he was. "I hope you know that you just made things very uncertain for us, lad," Wylan said soberly.
"I'll take care of it, Wylan," Tarrin told him. "Before I leave, I guarantee you that you won't have to worry about another Dal garrison marching up the road."
"I certainly hope so." Tarrin turned and walked back out the door. "Where are you going, lad?"
"To evict someone," he answered in a very ugly tone, a red haze building up behind his eyes.
The villagers were coming out of their houses. He recognized all of them, but he didn't reply to their calls, didn't wave to them as he marched resolutely towards the overgrown road that would take him to his farm, his home. He was going to deal with Jesmind, one way or another. The idea that she had usurped his home violated him to the core, even more so with the thought that she had brought with her a child that had no more of a place there than she did. He wasn't jealous of that-not too jealous, anyway-but the thought of his home being violated by an outsider overwhelmed any logical reasons as to why she chose that place to live.
The villagers recognized him, but instead of following after him, they approached the inn, where Wylan had come out and was calling to the others, keeping them from following the outraged Were-cat.
They didn't want to see what could very well happen on the old Kael farm.
Step, step step.
The sound of his footsteps mixed with the sound of the halting rain, sounds of raindrops hitting newly grown leaves, hitting the ground, hitting him. He'd lost the cloak somewhere-he couldn't remember where or how-and he was too mad to think to summon it back, so he had marched off in the rain. He was more or less soaked now, which made him that much more angry at being wet. Those sounds seemed distant to him as he made the last turn and found himself looking on the land he had called home all his life, still called home, a land that no longer looked as he remembered it.
The house was still there, but the large barn and the brewhouse were collapsing in on themselves. The house had been recently painted, a dark brown color much like wood itself, and the smaller barn showed signs of recent repair. There was a hoed patch of ground where the chickens used to scratch in the farmyard, what looked to be a garden. The place looked empty, somehow, without animals or sounds or activity. It almost looked abandoned. But there was smoke rising from the chimney, a sure sign that the house was occupied.
That caused him to come up short. Jesmind was in that house. He was very angry with the thought of her living there, of her bringing a child into his home, but fonder memories of Jesmind competed with those angry mentations and reminded him that he still cared for her. He was mad at her, but he still cared for her. Maybe instead of breaking down the door and proceeding to chastise his old flame, he should give her the chance to explain.
I've tried to kill my own mother, and I meant it at the time, Jesmind had told him once, long ago. He knew exactly how she had felt right at that moment. Part of him wanted to strangle her, and the other part wanted to find out why she was here.
Either way, he wasn't getting any answers standing in a soggy barnyard staring at the house. Taking a cleansing breath, trying to calm down to the point where he'd give Jesmind a chance to explain, he started towards the house again.
He reached the inner edge of what he had always called the yard, about fifty spans from the porch, when the front door opened. He couldn't see inside because the front of the house faced to his left, but he did see someone come out. He kept coming forward as a small figure exited the house holding a small basket in its hands, but as the figure turned, he saw that it had a tail.
The figure was that of a little girl, probably about six, who skipped down the steps of the porch lightly. She had the white fur of her mother, but had strawberry blond hair instead of red, tied into a single tail behind her. She wore a little half-shirt that left her belly bare and a pair of rugged leather breeches, undyed, with shredded cuffs around her ankles from her claws. "Five minutes!" Jesmind's booming voice called from inside. "If you're not back by then, I'll tan your hide, young lady!"
"I'll hurry, mama!" the little girl called back.
Who was this? This was no baby! This was a six year old girl! Had Jesmind had this girl before she met him, and had broken off from raising this baby girl to take care of him? Was she the reason Jesmind had left him? Tarrin stopped where he was and tried to make sense of it all. Why hadn't she told him about this? She would have. She should have. There was no reason to keep this girl a secret from him. It made no sense!
The little girl looked in his direction, then stopped dead in her tracks. She was an adorably lovely little girl, with her mother's beauty written all over her face. She had pattern green eyes, common for a Were-cat, a cute little nose and high cheeks that made her absolutely adorable. She looked at him for a long moment, her expression serious and sober, and then she smiled at him, showing tiny little fangs. She dropped the basket and ambled towards him with surprising speed and dexterity for such a young child, holding out her arms to him.
He didn't quite know what to do. Why was she running towards him? She didn't know him. Jesmind should have taught her that it was a very bad idea to be so friendly to strangers, even other Were-cats.
She got closer and closer, and as she did so, the sense of her assaulted him, smashed at him with its force, almost overwhelmed him. Such power! This little girl, untapped, had the potential to be a Sorcerer that would even eclipse him! Her power was unbelievable!
The gift of Sorcery has been introduced into the Were-cat line, the Goddess had told him. Through you. Your children will have the gift.
Your children.
Children. Not child, but children.
Tarrin felt his knees give out from under him, and he dropped to them in the soggy ground as the little girl rushed towards him exuberantly, crying out a single word that seemed to drown out all sound throughout the world.
"Papa!"
She hugged him happily around his neck, holding onto him and laughing, but he did not respond. He couldn't understand it. It was true, it was true; this little girl was his daughter. But she was too old! She had to be five or six, yet he'd only met Jesmind two years ago! His mind reeled from it, couldn't rationalize it, couldn't understand what had happened, make sense of it all.
He grabbed the little girl and pushed her away, looked into her eyes. There was no denying it. This girl was his daughter. She was his child. She looked at him with adoring eyes, smiling brightly. "Aren't you happy to see me, papa?" she asked in a bubbling voice. "Mama said if we waited long enough, you'd come home!"
Mama. Jesmind. Tarrin's eyes turned flat, startling the little girl, and he pushed her away just enough to return to his feet, towering over the little girl. "Jesmind," Tarrin hissed seethingly. "Jezzzz- MIND!" he rose to a shout, his ears laying back.
She appeared on the porch, and his entire world seemed to spin at the sight of her. She looked just as he remembered. She wore a plain cotton shirt and a pair of those canvas breeches she favored, and her expression both happy and fearful. She saw the girl standing in front of him, and that made her eyes very worried. Obviously, it looked that she would have preferred breaking this herself.
Passing the little girl by, Tarrin marched deliberately towards the house, claws flexing and murder twisting his features. He had passed angry some ten paces ago. He was absolutely, utterly, and thoroughly furious. But it wasn't the hot, blinding rage of the Cat, it was the cold, calculating anger of the Human, a Human that could not fathom what was going on, and was intent on getting answers. And getting them right now. Jesmind gripped the door nervously, waiting for him to reach her, and not looking too happy to see him. He came up the steps, marched right across the porch, then grabbed her by the arms and stared down at her with righteous indignation.
"Would you mind telling me what in the nine hells is going on around here?" he demanded hotly, gripping her so hard that his claws drew blood.
"I'd think that it's fairly obvious," she said weakly, trying to look bold, but Tarrin's newfound size and height seemed to have her off guard. She looked up at him with the questions dancing in her eyes, but he would have none of her distractions. "Tarrin, I'd like you to meet your daughter, Jasana."
"Daughter? Daughter? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you have Triana tell me!"
"I told Mother to keep it secret," she replied with a calm that pure bravado. "I didn't want you to get distracted from what you were doing. I didn't want to put you in danger."
"I wasn't doing anything when you left me!" His eyes widened. "You left me because you were pregnant!" he gasped in understanding. "You knew, and you wouldn't tell me!" He picked her up off the porch by her arms and pulled her up nose to nose with him. "Why? For the Goddess' sake, why?"
"Because of this!" she snapped at him, pushing him away enough to put her feet back on the porch. "I knew you'd overreact! That you wouldn't understand! I didn't know if you'd survive, or what would happen to you! I didn't want you to worry about me or our child, because I knew the Human in you wouldn't allow you to let me go if you knew!"
Her logic assaulted his anger. That much made sense. When she left him, he was still a Rogue, and his future was very much in question. And she was right again. If he'd have known she was with child back then, he would have put both paws on her and made her stay with him. That would have endangered the baby.
But logic had little to do with anger. He felt betrayed by her leaving him without telling him, no matter what her reasoning was. He was about to go off on her, but a small paw grabbed him by the end of his lashing tail and held firm. Tarrin turned and looked down, to see Jasana, her eyes teary, staring up at him with a heartbreaking expression. "You're not happy to see me?" she asked in a small voice.
Tarrin had experienced any number of raw emotions in his lifetime, but the emotions that flared up in him at seeing that little girl looking up at him with those heartbreaking eyes was simply too much for his anger to bear, and was some of the most intense and soul-piercing emotions he had ever felt in his life. His anger was shattered by those eyes, causing him to remember that this was his child, this was his daughter, and he had been inhumanly cruel not to acknowledge her, not to even say hello to her. She had greeted him with such exuberant love, and he had tossed her aside like so much garbage. Guilt over his actions rocked him to his foundations, and it was suddenly replaced by the instinctive needs that went along with being a parent. He felt the need to comfort the girl, to make her feel better, and the acknowledgement inside him that this was indeed his little girl caused the same powerful feelings of love to arise in him as existed for the rest of his family. This little girl was his family, his child, and he would not deny her.
He knelt down and put his paw on her shoulder gently, though it was too large to fit. "I'm very happy to see you, Jasana," he told her with exquisite tenderness. "I was just very surprised to see you, that's all. I'm afraid I don't take surprises very well."
"Papa!" the little girl said quickly, then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him with surprising strength. Tarrin stood up with the little girl in his arms, nuzzling her, taking in her scent and branding it forever in his memory, the knowledge that he had another child, a daughter, threatening to make his knees unlock again.
Too much. It had all been too much. This was the last thing he ever expected to see when he came home!
Jesmind looked at him with unwavering eyes, and then she smiled slightly. "Welcome home, Tarrin," she said to him, putting a paw on Jasana's back.
Tarrin knew manipulation when he saw it, though it took him a while to see it for what it was.
Tarrin's cute little daughter, that sweet-looking little girl, had manipulated him like he was a puppet.
But he had no defense against it. She had seen that he was very angry, so she got his attention and assaulted him in every manner in which she could, attacking him through guilt and instinct and love to batter down all the barriers to his anger he had erected. That sweet little girl was a cunning little sneak.
Tarrin wasn't quite sure how long he had sat at the table, with Jasana sitting happily in his lap, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Jesmind had made him some dinner, but he didn't remember what it tasted like, or even what it was. Or even if he ate at all. The shock of this radical shift in his life had yet to run its course, and he was still stunned by the immensity of it.
Jesmind had born his daughter! A little girl, a little girl with powers of Sorcery that would be incredible! He still reeled whenever he thought of that, but there she sat in his lap, happy as could be, playing with the end of his tail as the two adults sat in uncomfortable silence.
But there were things he just had to know, and that meant that he had to ask. "Jesmind," he finally said. "How-"
"She's a Were-cat, Tarrin," Jesmind smiled, as if predicting the question. "She's normal for her age. Remember, she'll be a fully grown adult by the time she's ten. We're not like humans."
"How old is she?"
"About a year and a half," Jesmind replied. "But she has the mind of a six year old. We mature just as fast mentally as we grow." She gazed into his eyes for a long moment, then blinked and looked away. "My turn. What happened to you?"
"This?" he asked, holding up an arm, with the fetlock dangling from his outer wrist and forearm. "I came out second best in a fight with a Succubus. This was the result."
"I'd like to hear that story."
"There's not a whole lot to tell," he grunted. "Why here, Jesmind? Why did you bring her here?"
"Because this is your home," she said seriously. "This is where I wanted her to be. I didn't want her to grow up without knowing her father. If you wouldn't have come back, at least this place would have told her all about you."
"Mama likes it here," Jasana said. "We fish and we hunt and we make things, Mama teaches me all about the forest and the humans and things, and sometimes the Drew-weed and the funny humans comes from the forest and visits with us."
"Druid, dear," Jesmind corrected absently. "You call him a drew-weed, and he's likely to smack your bottom."
"Funny humans?"
"That old man, Garyth," Jesmind answered. "He's holed up in the Frontier with some of the villagers."
"I heard about that," Tarrin grunted. "I've already started fixing the problem."
"You didn't-"
"Oh yes I did," Tarrin said hotly. "I'll make Aldreth safer than the Heart. Nobody comes into my village and burns down houses and kills people. Not without dying for it, they don't."
Jesmind looked into his eyes. "You've changed, cub."
"I'm not a cub anymore, Jesmind," he said bluntly.
"No, I guess you're not," she sighed. "You're nothing like what I expected, though."
"What did you expect?"
"The same innocent little cub that needed me," she said, looking into his eyes.
"That Tarrin died a long time ago, Jesmind," he said distantly. "Along with alot of what you remember."
"Mother's been telling me about what happened to you. I'm sorry-" she broke off, looking away. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
Tarrin put a paw on his daughter's torso. Part of him could understand why she left him, but the rest of him was still angry and betrayed by it, by her not telling him. The only thing keeping him from strangling her was the fact that Jasana was sitting on his lap. He was going to settle with Jesmind-oh, yes, he was-but not while Jasana was around.
"I see that not everything is a bad thing," Jesmind said, reaching out and grabbing his other paw. He flinched slightly at her touch, a touch that brought back memories of both sweet sensualness and anger and rage, a mixed confusion of emotions that had always defined his relationship with his fiery first mate. "I see the manacles are gone. Mother told me about them, told me what they meant. I'm happy to see that you gave them up, and everything they represented."
"It," he said after a moment, then blew out his breath. "It wasn't easy. I still think it was a bad idea."
"It's a good sign. Mother said you were nearly as feral as Mist, but I don't see it in you. You've managed to regain yourself since the last time she saw you."
Tarrin looked at the top of Jasana's head, at her pert little ears. She was such an adorable little girl.
"She also told me about what happened with Mist," Jesmind added, and that made Tarrin blush slightly. "Don't worry, I'm not jealous. I think it was a wonderful thing you did."
"Jealous? What right do you have to be jealous?" he flared. "You abandoned me a long time ago, Mother."
Jasana put her paws over his casually, patting it, and her touch had a powerful effect on him. It soothed him almost immediately, and it reminded him again how much control this little girl seemed to be able to enact against him, whenever she wanted.
"You have no idea how much it tore me up to do that, Tarrin," she said earnestly, gazing into his eyes. "I was torn between my duty to you and the safety of our daughter. Can you appreciate how that made me feel?"
He could appreciate how it must have made her feel, but it didn't make him feel any better about it. Jesmind's abandonment of him had hit him very hard, and even now he was still feeling the effects of it. A part of him even felt that feeling jealous over the little girl in his lap would have been perfectly acceptable, but there was no way he could harbor any negative emotions against the precious little girl.
His daughter.
"It's getting late," Jesmind said, looking out the kitchen window. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"
"I'm not about-" he started, but he was cut off.
"Please, papa?" Jasana asked, looking up at him with those adorable eyes. "Please stay with us tonight?"
He found himself to be defenseless against that. "I-alright," he huffed.
Jesmind and Jasana did their nightly chores while Tarrin sat at the table, chin on his paws, trying to make sense of everything. He was both happy and furious, relieved and annoyed, felt both accepted and betrayed. It was simply too much for him to deal with at one time. He was angry with Jesmind, but he couldn't deny what they had once shared. She had abandoned him, betrayed him, and though his heart rebelled at that, his mind fully understood and agreed with her decisions. Had he not come from slaughtering twenty one Dal soldiers in Aldreth, he may not have acted so harshly towards Jesmind and wouldn't have upset his daughter like he did. Seeing her, hearing her voice, incited memories of the Tower in him, both good memories and bad memories. It reminded him of the unmitigated hatred that they had had for one another, and then it reminded him of the tenderness and affection they had found for one another after that. It reminded him of the long thoughts of her while she was away, thoughts of lustful need, thoughts of company and warmth, and fury at how she had left him. His feelings for Jesmind had always been a chaotic whirlwind, and that had only increased now that he knew why she had left him in Suld.
Home. That was one thing. He was home, even if he found something waiting for him here that he hadn't been quite ready to accept. This was the same room that he and his mother and father and sister had spent many an evening, reading, listening to his father play the lute, learning things, telling stories, or just watching the fire burn in the hearth. This was where he had grown up, where he had always thought he would be, at least until he was fifteen. Only four years ago, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.
At that moment, he truly felt old.
Things were different. Jesmind had moved the table, and his parents' chairs were gone. So was the little table that sat between them, chairs just in front of a thick bearskin rug sitting in front of the fire, a rug that had a few blackened burns in its backside from the popping fire. Tarrin had always liked the musty, warm smell of that old rug. He wondered where it was now. In their places now was a single chair facing the fire, with a small wicker basket sitting beside it, and three large pillows spread out near the hearth. The kitchen was bare compared to what he remembered, for Jesmind only seemed to have a few pots and pans, a few baskets and bins for food. It looked empty.
"Go take your bath," Jesmind said to her daughter sharply, shooing her off with a paw on her bottom.
"Aww, mama, I hate baths!" Jasana protested.
"Tough. Now get moving."
Pouting a bit, the little girl shuffled into the back room, where his sister's bedroom had once been.
"She's getting to be a handful," Jesmind sighed, sitting at the table. "She's a devious little monster, to be honest about it, cunning and sneaky."
"Sounds like Kerri," Tarrin said absently. "She's certainly smart."
"I have trouble keeping her interested in things," Jesmind admitted. "She learns so fast, I'm running out of things to teach her."
"She's a Sorcerer," Tarrin told her bluntly.
"I know," Jesmind replied. "I can feel it in her. And if I can feel it in her, she must be pretty strong." She blew out her breath. "I know you're very mad at me, Tarrin. I just hope you can forgive me for all this."
"I'm not sure I can," he said stiffly. Without Jasana there, his anger had free reign to rise up again.
"That's your decision, but I'm not going to let our problems stand in the way of our daughter," she said bluntly. "Jasana needs both of us."
"I thought females didn't let males interfere."
"Not usually, but she's a Sorcerer, Tarrin," she said with a little fear in her voice. "I don't know what to do about that. You're a Sorcerer, so I was hoping that you'd know what to do. She's starting to be a problem."
"What do you mean?"
"She's starting to use her power," Jesmind told him, reaching out and putting a paw on his forearm. "I don't think she understands what she's doing yet, or if she's aware of it, but I've caught her using her power three times so far. That doesn't count what I haven't seen."
"She shouldn't be able to do that. She's just a girl. Sorcery doesn't manifest until puberty."
"Should or shouldn't, the fact is that she is doing it," she said calmly. "I'm afraid of what might happen. I remember what happened with you, and I don't want her to be in any danger."
"What is this I hear? Jesmind is admitting that she was wrong?"
Jesmind gave him a hot look. "Of course I can admit it when I'm wrong. I let my hatred of the Sorcerers cloud the fact that you were better off with them than with me. Does that make you happy?"
"No, it doesn't. What would make me happy would be for us to go back to that time and have you not leave," he said gruffly, glaring at her. "That hurt me, Jesmind. Alot more than you think it did."
"The past is past," she huffed. "I made my decision, and I have to live with it just as much as you do. We can let it poison us, or we can accept it and move on with our life."
"I don't forgive that easily, woman," Tarrin said ominously, his ears twitching.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," Jesmind snapped. "I apologized for leaving you, but it was the best-the only -thing that I could do under the circumstances."
"That doesn't help, Jesmind!" Tarrin told her in a rising voice. "If you had even an inkling of what I've been through the last two years, you'd never have left in the first place!"
"Am I a psychic now?" she asked archly. "I did what I had to do at the time!"
Tarrin rose to his feet, slamming a paw down on the table with enough force to crack it. He looked down at Jesmind with rising anger, but she stood in the face of his wrath calmly, stoically. "How would you feel if you came home after two years and found your old mate living in your house with a child you never knew you had!" he raged at her, pushing his paw down into the table with enough force to split it in half. "Do you have any idea how tired I am of surprises! How tired I am of having my life turned on its ear every two months?" he asked her as the two sides of the table clattered to the floor. "I'm trying to stop an army from overrunning Suld, and I find you and this waiting for me on the road back!" He threw up his paws. "Damn it all, I give up!" he said in exasperation. "I'm going to go into a monastary!"
Jesmind looked at him for a long moment, then she suddenly burst out into helpless laughter. Tarrin fixed her with an unholy stare, but she kept right on laughing, even going so far as to tip backwards in her chair and fall to the floor. Tarrin's fury with her melted into an indignant kind of embarassment, because he had no idea what she found to be so bloody funny.
"Ohhh, my," Jesmind managed to heave, then she laughed a little more. "No matter how much you say you change, Tarrin, that tells me that you're still the man I remember. You're still my Tarrin."
Tarrin glared at her.
"I'm done with my bath, mama!" Jasana called, coming out of Jenna's old room. Tarrin glanced at her, then shook his head.
Jasana forgot to put clothes on.
"Why are you on the floor?" she asked her mother.
"It's alright, cub," Jesmind chuckled. "Go put your nightshirt on."
"Yes, mama," she said obediently, then padded into his parents' old room.
Jesmind pulled herself off the floor, looking up at Tarrin with slightly mischievious eyes. "I know you're mad, but you're a Were-cat, Tarrin. You'll get over it," she grinned.
"Don't count on it," he snorted, crossing his arms defiantly.
"Well, I seem to remember this one time that we hated each other," she smiled, "and it didn't last as long as I thought it would. Face it, Tarrin. You like me, I like you. You may be mad at me, but that will pass, and we'll be nice to each other again."
Tarrin glared at her again.
"I may not be your bond-mother anymore, but I know you, Tarrin. I know you better than you think. Look me in the eye and deny that you feel anything for me."
He couldn't do that, so he simply looked away from her.
"That's what I thought," Jesmind chuckled. "Don't worry, Tarrin. Anger is natural for our kind. I've tried to kill my own mother, and I meant it at the time. It keeps our relationships invigorating." She put a paw on his forearm. "You'll come to realize that I did what was best for Jasana at the time, and that I'm sorry that it hurt you," she said gently. "Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn't think of any other way to protect Jasana."
"I, I don't know, Jesmind," he said gruffly.
"Just sleep on it, Tarrin," she said. "Stay with us tonight. Get to know your daughter. I promise you, you won't feel so angry in the morning."
Jasana padded out from the room and immediately set herself in front of her father, arms out expectantly.
Tarrin reached down and picked the little girl up, holding her close to him, letting her scent and the sense of her saturate his senses. He couldn't deny the love he felt for this unexpected bundle of joy cast across his path. Despite the seething anger he felt for Jesmind at the moment, he couldn't ignore the powerful feelings that the little girl inspired in him. This was his child, his daughter, and he wanted to know her.
There would be reckoning with Jesmind later. And probably reckoning with the Goddess, who had no doubt sent him here to find them.
"So, the rabbit went down into the hole, but mama reached in and grabbed it," Jasana chattered along exuberantly. It was later that evening, and Tarrin laid on the floor where the old rug used to be, laying on the pillows with Jasana just beside him. Jesmind had quietly withdrawn from them to allow Tarrin time alone with his daughter, time to talk to her, get to know her.
He'd discovered several things about her already. She was bubbly, for one, full of energy and life, always racing around. She talked alot, which reminded him of Sarraya, chattering on about things that had great importance to a child, yet meant very little to an adult. He wasn't sure if that was normal for her, if it was just excitement at having him with her. She liked to touch people, touch things, touch everything around her. And she was very affectionate, having seemingly formed an immediate bond with her unknown father, acting like he had always been a part of her life, like it was nothing special that he had finally shown up for the first time in her life.
And he had learned much about the workings of her mind. She was only a year and a half old, yet she had the maturity and ability of a six year old human child. Maybe even more so. From talking with her, he had come to realize that Jasana's mind was not normal, even for a child of six. She was very intelligent, exceptionally so, admittedly much smarter than he was. She had a keen understanding of things that seemed to be out of place for such a tender young age, an insight into the subtle signals that passed between her parents that allowed her to effectively control Tarrin's temper any time she wished, usually by little more than a touch and a smile. She didn't seem afraid of her father's volatile temper at all, and he realized that that was because she had no reason to fear something she could utterly control.
Tarrin had never been wrapped around someone's finger before, and he found it to be both annoying and embarassing.
But the truth hurt. Jasana's gentle presence had a dramatic effect on her father, calming him where nobody other than his parents, Allia, or Keritanima could hope to calm him. She conjured up images and feelings of Janette, his little mother, causing the same powerful motivations in him that he had for that darling little human girl. He found himself completely in her thrall as he sat there and listened to her talk about when Jesmind had taken her out hunting the day before, teaching her how to pull rabbits out of burrows without getting bitten in the process. Such savage training seemed out of place for such a sweet little girl, but Tarrin knew that Jasana was a Were-cat. Hunting and killing were instinctual responses in her, and as such they were things that would be a part of her life. It was only natural for her mother to teach her all about killing prey.
It seemed surreal, lying there on the floor, a floor ingrained in his deepest memories, lying there with a little girl that was his own flesh and blood, his own daughter, listening to her prattle on aimlessly. Laying there told him how tired he was, how hard he had pushed himself, how draining that day had been both physically and emotionally. He was tired. Goddess, he was tired.
"Papa, you're not listening to me," Jasana said sharply, nudging him.
"I'm sorry, cub," Tarrin said blearily. "I'm just very tired."
"That's alright, papa," she said with a giggle. "You just put your head down and I'll read you a bedtime story, just like mama does for me."
"I'm a little old for stories, cub," Tarrin chuckled wearily, putting his head on his paws and staring into the fire.
"You're never too old for stories. Mama says so herself."
"Really? And what's her favorite story?" he asked with a slow smile.
"Her favorite story? Well, she likes telling the story of the Wanderer."
"I didn't ask what story she likes to tell, I asked what story is her favorite," he corrected her.
"Her favorite story is the one she tells me about you, papa," she replied, her expression turning sober. "She tells it to me almost every other night."
"A story about me? I'd like to hear it."
"Well, I don't know if she wants me to tell you," Jasana fretted, but then she giggled. "But she's not here, is she?"
"Jasana, you are a sneaky little rat."
"Mama says worse things," Jasana told him with a roguish smile, but then her expression turned sober again. "Mama told me that you were once a human, like Uncle Garyth, but you became like mama when she bit you."
"That's right."
"I don't understand that. How could you be something else than what you are?"
"Magic, cub," he told her with a smile.
"Oh. Anyway, she said that you were chosen by someone to do something very important, something so important that you couldn't be with us. She says that you've travelled all over the world doing this thing, and that someday you'd come home to us and we could be a family."
"She said that?"
"Umm," Jasana said with a nod. "Mama tells me something new every night, like how you stole some great thing from an evil monster in a faraway city, or you fighting Trolls in the forests, or you beating some evil thing that tried to hurt you, or how you learned about things from Gramma after you got hurt. She once told me about how you climbed some great stone tree and found a city at the top."
Tarrin was startled. That all had happened. How did Jesmind find out what he was doing? Triana. Of course. Triana was a Were-cat with some extraordinary sources of information. Triana was telling Jesmind, and Jesmind was telling Jasana in the form of bedtime stories. "Seems pretty wild to me, cub," Tarrin said mildly. "If I did all that, where would I find time to sleep?"
"I asked her why you couldn't come home, but all she says is that you're not done yet," Jasana sighed. "But you're done now, right papa? You came home, just like mama promised. Does this mean we can be a family now?"
Tarrin sighed deeply. "No, kitten, it doesn't," he said quietly. "I'm afraid I just came home for a little while. I have to leave again, and very soon, because there are very important things out there I need to do."
"It's not fair," Jasana said petulantly. "Aren't I important to you?" she asked in a small voice, staring at him with large, expressive eyes.
That was a low blow, but he'd come to learn that Jasana went for the throat. She was a devious manipulator, and she went right for the jugular with that remark and those heartbreaking eyes. "I'm doing this because you are that important to me, cub," he told her carefully. "If I don't do this, then our home won't be safe. I have to keep the den safe, don't I?"
"Well," she hedged, looking away.
"Exactly. Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do, even when they don't feel right to us."
Jasana looked at him with a pouting expression. Goddess, this was a devious little girl! He very nearly groaned. Devious! He pitied Jesmind at that point, having to deal with this cunning little handful all day every day.
"That's not going to work on me, Jasana," he said firmly. "Unlike your mother, I'm used to dealing with sneaky little girls like you."
The pouting expression vanished like it had never been, and the girl pushed her strawberry blond hair from her face. "When will you come home for good, father?" she asked intently, sudden maturity creeping into her voice. "Mother misses you, and I want you to be with me."
"I don't know, cub," he sighed, putting his chin on his paws and staring into the fire, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "Hopefully, very soon."
Rain began pattering on the roof, droning on in a way that tempted him into going to sleep in the most delicious manner. "So that means that you'll come home?" Jasana pressed. "That we can be a family?"
"Family is what we make of it, cub," he told her in a distant tone.
"That's alright. You promised to come home," she said happily, snuggling down beside him. "You promised."
"I am home, cub," he said in a musing doze, and then he closed his eyes. "This is my home."
And then the hard days, the weather, the events of the day overwhelmed him, and he drifted off to sleep.
Jesmind couldn't help but feel her heart go all aflutter.
She leaned against the doorframe, looking at her Tarrin and their daughter sleeping on the floor by the fire. When he was asleep, the softness and gentleness of her former cub shone through the tension that was always in his expression, making him as handsome and appealing as she remembered him to be. It didn't seem fair for so much misery to be heaped on those shoulders, and though she was proud that he had managed to come through it without losing his mind or his humanity, she still grieved for him, for the pain he had been forced to endure.
Seeing him there on the floor reminded her of why she had brought Jasana here, why she had bothered, why she cared.
He was so tall. Looking at him like that, stretched out on the floor, his height was so apparent. He was as tall as her mother now, with those tufts of long fur on his ankles and forearms that marked the unnatural aging he had been exposed to far away and some time ago. It seemed so unnatural, and yet it also seemed… proper, to look up into his eyes instead of having them level with hers. He radiated a strength now, an inner strength just like her mother, an aura of unshakability that would intimidate everyone around him.
So many changes, but underneath it all, he was still the same Tarrin. Her Tarrin.
It was unnatural. She knew that it was. It was completely unnatural for her to be so attached to one male, so utterly devoted to him, so ready to spend all of eternity in his company. But she couldn't deny it, even from herself. She loved him, loved him like she never thought she'd love any male, and she would win him. He was angry now, but that would pass. She could be patient. She was more than five hundred years old, so the idea of wearing him down over the course of a year or two didn't seem like a very long time to wait. Jasana would keep him from running away, so she had all the time in the world.
Of course, she wasn't the only one waging war. She had heard much of what had happened between Tarrin and his daughter, and Jesmind had to smile. Jasana was working on him too, trying to make him stay with her, and what was more, trying to break down Tarrin's anger at Jesmind and get him to accept her.
Between Jasana and Jesmind, Tarrin didn't have a chance.
Jesmind smiled warmly at her fractured little family, unable to resist the scene. She padded over and laid down on the other side of Jasana, curling up with them, feeling for the first time that her life had been completed. She had her daughter, and now she had her Tarrin. Even if he wasn't very happy with her, she knew, she felt, she was certain that he would forgive her and accept her once again. Until then, she would be content with what she could get, even if it meant curling up with him and their daughter while he was unaware.
Closing her eyes, she immersed herself in the scents and sensations of family, and then drifted off to sleep.
To: Title EoF