Shimbekh was as anxious as any new bride to present her love with a child, someone that would be theirs to love and nurture. But she had one problem--Brin’bi was dead. In fact, she was faced with the embarrassing complication of registering her marriage with the Roh’mach and one other witness.
Amarakh did not understand Shimbekh’s powers, but she did appreciate them. And anxious to have her young friend happy, she did not require any proof of their relationship, even the simple step of speaking with Brin’bi. Kambra was her other witness, and like Amarakh, she promised to keep the marriage a secret from the others.
Officially married, she set about the task of having a child. Having a surrogate okhim was out of the question--she wanted to keep herself pure for her husband. So the only other way was adoption.
There were certainly enough pups to choose from who wandered the stars, and she did consider giving her heart to one. But she wanted at least one warm body to lay beside her in the night, one who would grow and present her with grandchildren someday.
Ber’meer, a distant cousin, had married the daughter of a seer, and his daughter Makhpil showed an emergence of strong psychic powers.
Ber’meer had often given hints to Shimbekh of his desperate attempts to raise Makhpil. The stress of raising her was beginning to erode his marriage. Though it would be a challenge, Shimbekh liked Makhpil, and wanted to give her the home life she needed to grow into a secure and happy adult. It was either that or giving her up to the priestly caste for training. So Ber’meer was absolutely delighted when Shimbekh made him an offer. “Frankly, she scares me. I think she feels it, and she rebels against our authority all the time. Pardon my honesty, but I’m afraid she’s going to be another Gur’mekh”
When Makhpil was weaned, she went to live with Shimbekh. She was told that it was an extended visit, in the hopes that she would grow fond of her new parents before the adoption became final.
Makhpil was sad for perhaps a day. But once she peered deeply into Shimbekh’s eyes, she felt the spell of Shimbekh’s love. Like Gur’mekh, she was irresistibly drawn to her, drunken with a love she had not felt before.
Unlike most of the hyenas, Makhpil could easily spot Brin’bi whom she called Okhim from the beginning, and she quickly began calling him Maleh.
Shimbekh and Brin’bi did not treat her like a freak, but instead wrapped her in a warm, soft blanket of unconditional love. Under their encouragement, she quickly stopped her tantrums, blossoming into a vibrant young lady who was polite and anxious to please.
Makhpil showed every sign of being delighted with Shimbekh and Brin’bi, but after one week, she began to look very sad. She would not admit to it, much less discuss it, but she sank into a depression. Finally, Shimbekh saw her huddled in a corner of the den they had dug her, sobbing. There was no denying it then.
“Are you homesick, hon?”
“No!” She continued to sob.
“Well, what’s wrong?”
“You’re going to send me back! I don’t want to go home! They don’t love me--they’re scared of me!”
“Oh but they do love you. You frighten them, but you’re their little girl and they’ll always love you.”
“But not the way you do.” Makhpil sniffed, wiping her eyes with a paw. “I like it better here, Muti.”
Shimbekh shuddered. “Darling, you called me Muti!”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not!” She fondled her with her paw. “Honey tree, how would you like to be my daughter and live with your Maleh Brin’bi and I?”
Makhpil’s tail began to wag so strongly that her hips shook from side to side. She jumped up and kissed Shimbekh over and over until she had to laugh. “OK, I take it that means yes?”
Shimbekh now had a family, and though she missed the traditional closeness a wife would have to her husband, she adored Brin’bi all the more for coming to her unhappy world to keep her company. In the hard times ahead, he was a great comfort to her, as was Makhpil. Shimbekh saw in her what she once was, blithe, innocent and fresh.