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Day 75

Morning

_ _

I could not believe my eyes. I still can't. It felt like watching a mist dissipate, like watching ice melt. The shift of form, the alteration of structure, the sharp, smooth change... truly magical, and yet I could not sense any manipulation of the sort. Just like when Sulaya demonstrates her own abilities. The same type, the same source; the same primordial magic.

_ _

I wondered how seeing it would affect Sulla. I worried it would bring up memories and feelings, and it did, but not in the way I thought or expected. He watched as I did, engrossed and honored, and felt the power of the transformation and the depth of Talla's bond with Fa. There before us stood two feral wolves, still hunter and companion, or rather, both hunters now. The Fa that we had met and recognized, and then another slimmer, sleeker male, bearing Talla's markings and brightness of expression and personality. They ran; they danced; they played for us, and we watched.

_ _

I do not understand the magic that powers these bonds, and the idea of this Old Blood. These are things new and unusual to me, in my study of the history of magic and the world surrounding it. So much remains to be seen, and so much remains to be learned. How could I think my time here was finished?

_ _

On the group trudged through the forest, the landscape changing ever so slightly as they dove deeper into the heart of the land. Revitalized by the rest and dinner, Lannon kept pace with the wolves a little more easily - though today found himself continually distracted by wandering thoughts and fresh new memories.

After Talla's demonstration of his abilities, when each pair had retreated to their own corner of the makeshift campsite for sleep, Sulla yet again demonstrated his predatory nature, in a few well-placed claws and some bites that still stung and ached this morning. Lannon, panting and gasping beneath him, squirming and writhing and moaning, squeezed tight and held onto the wolf's paw, and then felt that hot, hungry breath in his bejeweled ear -

"Could I still," Sulla had growled, voice deep in his chest, "then I would shift as well, and mount and mate you as a wild beast."

So now the lynx could hardly take twenty steps without again trailing down that mental pathway, the thought at once strange and frightening and taboo while it made him stir and blush and fluster. Sulla knew this, too: of course he could feel the wolf's smug satisfaction through the link, which just fed back into the embarrassment. He kept his journal out and under his arm for new notes and observations made along the journey, mostly in regard to the subtly changing environments. New flowers and herbs started appearing, and the dominant species of tree changed as well; the scent of the air shifted and altered a bit, wrapping the group in a new, altered essence of the woods. Lannon felt as though something was coming - and, indeed it was.

This time Talla requested that Lannon and Sulla be the ones to hunt. A brief conversation between the wolves settled that Talla and Fa would continue travelling straight along the path, while Lannon and Sulla would deviate in their search, and then would meet back up along the way; Lannon worried that their pacing would change too much and they would lose track of the young hunter, but Sulla seemed confident enough.

So they hunted, and almost beyond the lynx's notice, time continued to pass. Even with his little pack slung over his back, with the weight of his journal and a change of clothes and the soap and comb and whatever else, he crept through the trees and hugged the twisting mix of shadows across the forest floor, almost instinctively able to feel and sense the reach of each of his actions. These were things that even magic could not do. Gradually he learned how to deliberately control the weight of his steps, how to peer between the branches and leaves for any sign of movement, and how to scan the forest floor for signs of passage.

Another hunter-companion pair had travelled this way recently, Sulla judged from off between the trees. Lannon agreed. Other thoughts and ideas stirred in his head, but a new scent on the air distracted both of them from their shared conversation. The hunt continued; Lannon slunk along, lynx at home beneath the trees, while wolf prowled out through the shadows. Tension strung out in the air between them, tightening, tautening, snapping into place - through a shared kick of shock and surprise, and then Lannon sprang off in one direction to cut off their prey's escape. Instinct raging through its body, the hog reared up, half-turned, padded at the ground...

So this was what that felt like, too, then. Before Lannon would have stood his ground for a second and then let it pass, knowing the aggression and power that these things could manifest in their legs and tusks. The Lannon from before would never have thought he could face a frightened, angry wild creature and come out on top, but here, now, with Sulla invisible between the trees on the other side, with Sulla strong and confident in his head, seven different options stretched out in his mind, each one running along the threads of reflex and instinct. The lynx crouched down, body close to the earth and legs bent to provide him with the ability to leap in whichever direction might be required; in one paw he clutched his knife, with the other hung out with fingers out and claws bared.

His ears flattened, his lips curled back, a low growl began in his throat. The hog knew he was here: no longer did he need to hide in the shadows and quiet his presence. What a figure he would cut, then, a slim, smallish lynx decked out in modified mage's robes, ears heavy with jewelry, entire body poised like that of a wild beast - but, still, it was enough for the wild hog to falter and adjust again. Normally it would barrel through whoever stood in its way, but for Lannon, it would step aside.

It would, were it able. One arrow in one second, punching deep, not quite piercing all the way through; a squeal of surprise and pain, a shudder of shock, a scrabbling as the hog tried to flee. The energy bound up in Lannon's legs released and he leapt, tackling hard into its side and barreling it over, almost breaking off the arrow in its place - and with one arm straining tight underneath its angled head, struggling against the feral musculature, legs coming into place around its huge body, wrapping tight. Muscles that Lannon had rarely used before pulled and tugged, reverberated against the hog's resistance; the two tumbled down across the ground, shaking and straining, locked tight together. The lynx worked his other arm around, knife angled, elbow pivoted like the fulcrum of a lever -

And then the struggle ceased. Lannon tilted his head away from the spray even though it emptied out across the ground, on the other side of the hog's punctured throat. The scent of hot iron billowed up into the air; panting gentle, legs already complaining about the impromptu strain, he untangled himself from the prey and stood up - then nearly fell over, and would have had Sulla not already crossed through the trees to reach and catch him.

"That's adrenaline," the wolf rumbled in his ear. Lannon laughed, then sighed and let the tension go out of his limbs. He was shaking. "What happened there, love? I felt as though I were watching some forest spirit instead of you."

"Well, I'm flattered..." the lynx purred. Frightening, tiring, tense, yet so invigorating. He shifted a footpaw as the warm, sticky pool spread out through the leaves. "Give me a moment to catch my breath, and we can - take this back. It'll slow us down. See, this was my worry: now we have to lug this with us, and Talla will get further ahead, and-"

"And - it'll..." Sulla crouched down, slid his arms beneath the body, and then in a smooth movement hefted it up over his shoulders and straightened up. For a moment he faltered, head bent before the hog's body over his back, but then regained his balance and peered at Lannon. "It will be fine. Trust me. Can you walk?"

"Yes. Just... give me a moment, and then I can help out..."

Sulla turned out to be right in his assumption. Whether there still lurked something there between the hunters that Lannon could neither see nor sense, or whether it was just instinct and feeling, as the sun continued across the sky soon the two pairs linked back up again. Talla's face brightened at the sight of the hog hefted between the two of them, Lannon with one sleeve smeared and soaked in blood turning brown as it dried, unable to hide his grin at his kill.

Their kill, really. The satisfaction, like most things, was now shared between the two of them. Neither minded, in this case, and both felt the pride and success. Night hadn't quite fallen, though the color of the sky showed its approach. The hog would take a bit of cleaning and preparation, so after Talla sent Fa to find a source of running water, the group settled down in the dying light of the day and set up camp again, as much as that could be done with what they had.

Lannon took the reins for cooking tonight, showing the wolves a technique he had learned in his home village of stripping and slicing the meat in such a certain way to allow it to loop in limp strips over the spit, hanging down over the fire at an angle so the drips of melted fat slid down into a puddle along the side of the fire. This combined with bits of an herb he had plucked off the path the previous day, with some of the root vegetables stewed in the pot, provided quite a satisfying end to the day, with Talla resting back across Fa's large body and Lannon settled much the same into Sulla's embrace.

Two pairs of golden eyes flickering from across the fire watched them. Talla's jaw widened in a yawn, and he reached up to wipe at his mouth. Lannon swallowed down the last of his food, also wiped at his mouth, and gave the younger wolf a warm smile.

"They're all wild," the other villagers had murmured. "They're foul, vile creatures, barely even people. Closer to the animals they walk alongside than they are you and I. Do not trust them. They stay in their forest simply because we repel them whenever they try to leave and take our things. Why do you think your father has only one arm? Why do you think you have that scar on your shoulder?

_ _

"Why do you trust them?"

A breeze stirred through the trees. Lannon, full and satisfied, stretched his arms over his head, turned his head to the side to bump against Sulla's in a little nuzzle, then lifted himself to his feet and started around the fire. Both of the other wolves peered up at him as he approached; he reached down, spread a spot for himself along the leaf-littered earth, and then lowered himself down right there, side pressed up against Talla's and back settling into the warmth of Fa's body. The larger feral huffed softly and adjusted how he lay.

They smelled so much like Sulla, yet so different. Just like he had noticed with Sulaya, the same breed, distinctly different. The older wolf, still across the fire, smirked to himself - though Lannon felt the amusement through the bond - and then leaned back onto his elbows. It was a little disorienting at first, feeling and sensing Sulla's thoughts and impressions while so close to Talla instead, but before long the lynx managed to work it out. Talla rested one arm over his lap and draped the other over Fa's side, nearly putting it around Lannon as he did so.

"We're almost there," the young wolf rumbled, his voice and unfamiliar words tickling at the lynx's decorated ear. Lannon still wore the chain signifying his magical ability, he realized; was that proper? "We recognize the forest, around these parts."

Lannon looked to Sulla. The older wolf nodded: there was a familiarity in the air and forest to him here, though the details themselves had changed in the time since he had last come through.

"Should arrive... I don't know. As the sun rises tomorrow, should we depart early. Right as most of the tribe awakens as well." Talla smiled again, and this time reached over to pat Lannon's leg. The touch sent a little shock and shiver through him. "Our chieftess shall finally have her son back."

"She shall," rumbled Sulla from across the fire. He tilted his head back to look up at the sky. "And I shall finally have my family back, if they will have me."

~ ~ ~

Lannon awoke the next morning totally surrounded by wolves, Fa behind him with Talla and Sulla on either side. He had slid over in his sleep so that now his head rested sideways across the younger wolf's chest, while at some point during the night his paw had entwined itself with Sulla's. The older hunter was having a dream of the same stars he had fallen asleep watching, as well as flowing water, lightly blowing wind, and... the smell of smoke, it seemed.

The fire before them had long since died down, coals dark and glistening with the sheen of their burn as well as the thinner layer of morning dew. Almost as soon as Lannon stirred did Talla stretch his arms over his head as well, though his breathing told the lynx that he had been awake the whole time; Sulla came to a little while later, and after a sleepy shared breakfast of berries and some of the dried strips of cured meat from the hut, the group continued on.

Naturally, Lannon could tell no difference in the woods around them, but at some certain point the wolves split apart to flank the lynx on either side. He looked from one to the other, felt the tension in the air, looked ahead again - and then jumped when a huntress slid from the trees before them like a shadow slipping across the ground.

She held her bow at the ready, arrow nocked yet not drawn. Cool green eyes flicked from Sulla, to Lannon, to Talla, and back. Fa stepped around behind the three, tail curling in front of Sulla and head pushing in along his hunter's shoulder.

The huntress bowed her head but kept her eyes on them, unwilling to show her throat. Slim and sleek, corded all over with the same streamlined musculature that Talla showed. This was a species used to long, extended periods of travel through the woods, leaping up and over boulders and roots, swinging from branches and clinging to trees, pursuing prey into the night. A moment later her companion stepped through as well, an almost fully black she-wolf with gemstone amber eyes. One bore a splash of bright emerald green, sharp and uncanny in contrast.

"Talla," she said, voice warm and clear. Still it bore the unmistakable grit of hostility, however. "Ea shala e faro?" Who do you bring with you?

_ _

"Tuhau," he responded - a name translating, by Sulla's understanding, to something roughly like doubtless- "Oro Noma. Eo shala suva-io. Susa."

_ _

Tuhau frowned, confused, then looked up at Sulla. Her ears flicked back and then slowly came back up as she peered closer; he reached up, touched at his throat, swallowed, and scratched nervously at an ear. Then to Talla again, the huntress made the same motion, a pair of fingers going to her throat first and then to her eye as well. Talla shrugged.

"Sulla?"

His ears perked. He nodded. "I return," he said, Old Tongue slow and deliberate. Lannon felt a touch of uncertainty through the bond, as though he worried she might not understand him for some reason. "Through... peculiar circumstances and events. I would very much like to see my mother."

The huntress glanced down to her companion for a moment, who flicked an ear and peered close at Lannon. "Vo?" she asked. And him?

Again Talla shrugged. "Shualaya," he answered simply. Embarrassment on top of warmth flooded the link. His bonded. His life-mate. "Kur. Lu'eo ulal'ova."

To this Tuhau nodded and then was off, bow over her back and tail perked as she strode purposefully through the trees. Lannon looked to one hunter and then the other again, waiting for an explanation; Sulla reached over and gave his paw a squeeze, his own nervousness trembling through their bond. After a while Talla let out a breath and then took a step forward, then motioned for the other two to come with him. They continued, though at a slower pace; Lannon had heard, felt, or otherwise sensed no sign that they would be allowed in, though, and as such kept a paw close to his dagger. Surely some of the hunters would recognize him. Talla had, after all, and there had been the occasional sign or sense through the trees before he had lost his ability, the near-constant sense of someone watching him.

"What's going to happen?" he asked, first to Sulla and then looking to Talla as well. Sulla was just as clueless as him; the younger hunter shrugged yet again.

"I'm unsure," he answered. "Nothing like this has ever happened. It has been years since we last brought an outsider into our camp."

Likely my father, Lannon figured. "I suppose they can still turn us away, as we haven't-"

"We have," Sulla rumbled. "Tuhau watches the perimeter."

"You recognize her?"

Mismatched eyes glimmered down at him. "No. I stood on that post before, soon after my bloodrites." A smile touched his lips. "My _first_bloodrites. What an idea..."

Before long the forest widened, as though stepping back to make way for the returning hunters and their unusual guest. Leaf-littered mulch gave way to a drier, softer earth, specked with old twigs and crumbled plant matter; the morning sun cast its rays through the distant treetops, sending long shadows over the clearing likely a combination of natural and created. Then Lannon saw first one, then a second, and a third of the tents that he had caught a brief glimpse of in Sulla's head so long ago. Taut lengths of treated hide stretched along wooden frames, not quite tents yet certainly not houses, painted along the outside with images and figures, each in different colors and from a clearly different hand.

Then he saw the wolves, too. First a few, then many, and then more than the little lynx had ever before seen in one place as the morning advanced. Each and every one of them wearing some variation of Talla's simple garb, loincloth, sash, and belt, some with shoulder pads, some with packs covering one side of their body, some with a more conservative dress. Browns and greys mostly, some straps or sections dyed earth green, or rich ochre, or warm carmine... and again and again and again Lannon felt their eyes, their sharp predators' gazes, flick over to them and then dive away again. Then, though, they always returned, first to Sulla, this large, unfamiliar hunter without his companion, and then to Lannon, this wholly new, completely _different_individual.

One wolf in particular, walking without his companion, paused along the path and frowned as he watched them. He held a paw out to his side to stop the hunter beside him, then murmured something into his ear; the other hunter looked as well, and noticing the attention, Talla stopped and motioned for the others to do the same as well.

The two hunters approached, ears up but arms and paws poised. One older and one younger, perhaps father and son, or uncle and nephew. The younger one moved to speak, but the older raised a paw and stopped him.

"Ea..." he said, looking Sulla up and down. He peered quite closely at his face. "Sala ea va lu'hula?"

The same way that Talla had first greeted Lannon. Sulla straightened up, and replied in the same way.

"Beneath the sky we walk," he intoned, and crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head to free a strand of fur from over his eye and tilted his head up, to just barely show his throat. "So that we will meet again in the heart of the forest."

The other hunter's muzzle split in a grin.

"Wa raza lu'eo a," he replied, "il ulal kur lu'eo'lo wa." And here we meet, so that we may walk together again. Brown eyes suddenly misting with tears looked back and forth between Sulla's mismatched blue and green. "Sulla. Could it be?"

"It could," Sulla answered. "Sosha. I can't believe it's you."

"How do you think I feel?" the older hunter said, his voice unsteady. He reached out and drew Sulla into an embrace; the younger hunter by his side smiled, glanced at Lannon, then looked back to the reunion. "How long has it been? Twenty years?"

"More, old friend."

"I have a son, now."

"I see! Just how did that happen?"

"Well, certainly you couldn't have expected me to..."

On the two spoke, Old Tongue flowing smooth and lyrical, heavy with emotion and memory. Lannon looked to his side for Talla, but the younger hunter had disappeared along with Fa - but soon another pair took their place, and then another, and another. The crowd grew, as did the noise: mixed voices, "Sulla,"; "Is that you?"; "Is it him? Is it really?"; "And there's his lynx, too - what is his name?"; "Lannon..."; "Lannon?"; "Sulla and Lannon..."; "Azalon's son?"

There was laughter. A cheer, a sob, a cry. Sulla was wrapped again and again in embrace after embrace, tail wagging, eyes bright, ears up. Lannon felt his joy, and the outpouring of emotion, and the relief, and had to reach up to wipe at his own eyes. Then, to his surprise, a warm paw settled on his shoulder; he jumped and turned, came face to face with the broad, sharp muzzle of a rather large companion... paused, blinked, peered closer.

"Stike?"

The old feral huffed. "Lannon," rumbled that voice in his head, only vaguely familiar. "You two made it. Just as she said you would."

_ _

The paw wasn't his, of course. Lannon turned further, and then had to look down a bit to meet the gaze of the slightly hunched elder huntress there behind him. She leaned partially on a smooth cane of wood, carved along its length with little figures just like what Sulaya had done to the earthenware cup still in Lannon's pack. Warm honey-yellow eyes appraised the young lynx; she wet her lips, looked past him to the crowd, then looked back.

"Ea sar oa suvara-ea" she cooed. Her smile widened. "Eo huli'ei lal ea vo."

_ _

Lannon thought about that, then fumbled as no understanding came - Sulla was too wrapped up in his own greetings to interpret. A few words here and there stood out, the simple ones that he already knew; I and you, and your father somewhere in there.

"Oh-" He motioned towards Sulla and then himself, though lacked a particular reason for why. "I'm sorry, I don't - speak your language. Um - Sulla came with me, and Talla, and..."

The wolfess's expression softened. "Sulla," she purred, and looked towards him again. Still he was caught within the throng of old friends and new acquaintances, laughing and crying, bouncing between snippets of conversation. A moment later her gaze returned to the lynx. "Ea lal... Lannon."

That he understood. You are Lannon. He grinned and nodded. "Yes," he confirmed. "I am Lannon. Ah... Eo lal." At least the Old Tongue had no particular rules regarding different verb endings. But then - how would he turn that around? "Ea lal...?"

The wolfess straightened up a bit, bringing her cane closer underneath her body. It seemed as though she could stand and walk just fine, with it simply providing a bit of balance. "Noma," she answered.

A familiar name. What was Lannon supposed to do in this situation? He had read in books that it was proper to kneel and bow before a king or queen, and upon his acceptance into the Solm academy he had had to do the same for the royalty there, but with her... she seemed like no royal. At least, not what Lannon recognized as royalty: here she was, standing on her own with her large companion striding back around her, the rest of the tribe that had awoken still focusing on Sulla. Nobody had stopped to call her out, nobody had come over to kiss her paw or greet her.

"Oh. Um..." Lannon swallowed. What was it he had said, all that time ago...? "Eo mole faruru dola ea."

That made her smirk. I mean you no harm. The old wolfess reached forward with that free paw; Lannon twitched, startled, but then let her feel at his ear, her touch slow and gentle, careful. Up she went over his left, following the base of the chain and across the vertical cuff, then over through the tufted tip to the other side with the top of the chain, and three studs... the lynx couldn't help but shiver as she squeezed softly, fingerpads settling between the little points of metal for a moment to feel, and count, and investigate. Then she reached over to his other ear as well, stroked up along the soft back, and settled the hanging bone and amber into her palm. She lifted her head, pursed her lips, peered close... and then rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Sulaya," she murmured.

Lannon laughed at that. "Yeah. She's been - hanging around. She was actually the one to help Sulla and I... ah..."

Something in the back of his head twinged. The lynx trailed off and spun around, and saw there in the midst of the crowd Sulla himself, paws each held by someone in the group though his attention lay elsewhere. First shock, then relief overlaid with love, and unsure nervousness... and he pulled away to step closer, while Noma let her paw drift down from Lannon's ear to his shoulder, and then along his arm as well. Whether she used him for support, he couldn't tell: he held his arm out until her fingers brushed over his, and then let him go.

The old huntress tilted her head as he approached. She had to tilt her head back to look her son in the eyes. "I thought you were gone," she murmured, "lost to the depths of the forest as well as your agony..."

The crowd fell quiet. Lannon, feeling a bit awkward, went over to Stike; the large feral eyed him, shook his head and shoulders, and then came forward to bump against the lynx's arm. He reached out to run a paw through thick, coarse fur.

"Lannon found me there," Sulla replied. He had taken his mother's paws in his own. "Buried in those dark depths, and he brought me back out."

Noma smiled. "I hear your daughter had something to do with it, too."

"That she did."

"Of course. As she meddles in everything." While she spoke, even as she smiled, Noma's expression warred with itself. Her brow knotted, her nostrils flared, her short whiskers pinned back; she swallowed again, wet her lips, sniffed, tried to grin, failed - and then the tears began to pour down, cutting little rivulets in dark fur. She faltered on her cane, and Lannon thought she was going to lose her balance, but then Sulla swept his arms around her and hugged her tight, half-crouching to put himself level with her.

"Sulla. How I've missed you..."

"I'm glad to see you never gave up, Mother."

"Never. Not even when she had." After a moment the wolfess slid out of the embrace, though kept her arms around her son. Again she appraised Lannon. "And who is he, then? Azalon's son. You remember Azalon, yes?"

"Yes. That he is. He is..." Lannon felt the swirling slew of different thoughts and ideas twisting around in Sulla's head. He blushed a bit, then reached up and scratched behind his ear. Finally, though, the hunter shrugged. "Lannon. Shualaya."

"Shua..." Noma's eyes widened at the word, and this time she peered a little more closely at the lynx. He felt so out of place here, surrounded by all these wolves and all these scents, all these unfamiliar voices and words... "You are something different, aren't you, Lannon?"

"That he is," Sulla continued for him, with a warm smile and a wink. "He has achieved what Sulaya could not. And you can understand that _she_explained to me everything that has happened in the meantime..."

Noma scoffed again. "Oh, yes - she does love the sound of her own voice..."

Lannon watched and half-listened for a while longer, and then turned back to Stike beside him. The huge feral had relaxed in place and now lay with his muzzle on his paws, a huge dark blob in the center of the camp. Lannon knelt down so he could still rub between his ears.

"Where did Talla go?" he asked.

_ _

"Talla..." Stike closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and then let it out, so that the tufts of grass and loose leaves stirred in a swirl before him. "He has retreated to relax with his sister. Do not forget that he returns after a long hunt, just as you and Sulla."

_ _

"Of course." Lannon sighed and lowered his head. "I wanted to thank him."

_ _

"You will have your moment." Golden eyes flashed up at him again. The old feral looked tired. "He wishes the same, little cat. You have given him much to think about and consider."

_ _

"Yes, that seems to be the case..." Lannon looked back to the now dissipating group of hunters. Sulla and his mother had dropped to the ground right there, now sitting together as they held an animated conversation in rapid Old Tongue. Sulla's tail swished and worked behind him; Noma's swayed as well. From a distance Lannon might have thought them to be a young mother and her bright, energetic pup. "I asked Fa this same thing-"

_ _

Stike made another noise. Lannon glanced at him but otherwise ignored it.

"-but why is that I can speak with you, and him, and I assume others, when we are not bonded? I hear that even between hunter and companion, it is uncommon for this to happen."

_ _

"The Old Blood permits it." An expected answer. Stike lifted his head and wagged his tail as Noma approached, bending down over her cane to pat between his ears. "All of us, as their companions, are capable; it is dependent on the ability of the hunter, to open and establish the link. As for you-" Noma passed by. A thought passed along the link told Lannon that Sulla would be with her in the chieftess's tent, as well as its location in the camp. "You bear Sulaya's mark."

_ _

"Talla said that, too. What does that mean?"

_ _

"Her favor. She is the culmination of this Old Blood of which we speak. You know this."

_ _

"I do."

_ _

Stike lifted his head to watch his huntress depart. "She has great power at her disposal; Sulaya is the spirit and soul of the forest, of all of nature."

_ _

"So she really is a goddess."

_ _

"If that is your word for it, then so it may be."

_ _

Lannon sat back as well. Now he felt even more out of place, sitting on the ground in this strange place alongside this unnaturally large beast... "So that's it, then. I've never been able to get a straight answer out of her."

_ _

Something like amusement pushed through this... whatever it could be called, with Sulla. "She is tricky," he agreed. "She knows her value and power, and plays with these as toys."

_ _

"So she's the reason?"

_ _

"Yes. She has seen great potential and similar power in you."

_ _

"Is she here?"

_ _

"No. But she will return soon. You will stay for a while, yes?"

_ _

Lannon looked over to where the bond told him Sulla now waited. The natural flood and flow of emotions and memories let him know that still he spoke with his mother.

"Yes," the lynx sent back. Idly he wondered if Sulla could hear this conversation as well, as he could understand the hunter's with others. "For a while."

~ ~ ~

Day 77

Morning

_ _

Nothing like this has ever happened before. I have been told this before, but actually seeing it, actually hearing their voices and seeing their faces... maybe half of the wolves here are old enough to recognize Sulla, but still his return is lauded and welcomed. Whether for having the son of the chieftess back, or finding an old friend, or simply seeing the end of the terror of the woods, what we have achieved is welcome.

_ _

We - "we", however - are... a little less so. Chieftess Noma took it in stride when Sulla explained that he and I had bonded, just the same as a hunter bonds his companion. It seemed that she had expected it, yet still could not believe it; I could tell, sitting there in the vast tent with the two of them some time later, that she wanted to ask 'how', but tradition prevented her. Union of a hunter with an outsider was uncommon, yet not unheard of - while the full bonding, of course, was. There would be a process for the union, she told us, with a glimmer in her eyes.

_ _

It will take a week, we were told. "You will stay until then?" Sulla and I looked at each other. We hadn't spoken about it, but the agreement came quickly. We will stay. The question remains after, though, hanging between the two of us like the supple rope of our bond: how long after?

_ _

Noma is a delight. Though her age weighs on her like a cloak, she is still bold and energetic, still quick and strong. Meeting her now, I can see much of her in her son. His confidence and strength of spirit both had to come from somewhere.

_ _

At first I kept my journal at the ready, noting down any words and their meanings that I could catch, but this was, at least for now, a pointless endeavor. Noma understands that I can converse with her so long as Sulla is nearby to hear and translate, and she as acclimated to that already. She has a pleasant voice, soft yet strong, with that same confidence carrying through underneath.

_ _

Talla joined us at one point. I do not know how he knew where we were, but it seems that he and the chieftess are well-acquainted - or perhaps every hunter here is like that. He strode in, Fa at his side, and sat down beside me, bidding me a soft welcome and smiling at Sulla and his mother. Then Noma asked about me, and my father. And I told her.

_ _

Naturally, she remembered things in a bit more detail and with more clarity than Sulla could, but most of it lined up. There were a few certain discrepancies that I chalked up to Sulla having been only a pup at a time, but all of it still made sense - and I could tell that Noma still thought fondly of him, of the odd stranger who appeared during a storm, putting down his own life to save that of a litter of feral pups.

_ _

Perhaps I can escort him out here for a visit. I think he would like that.

_ _

There is so much to learn about this culture, and this tribe, and this family. I do not know how long we will stay - that is something to talk about later - but I am excited and willing to spend some time here. As the day progressed, as we began and finished a meal and wandered around the camp, I asked about Sulaya. Sulla was curious too, but he did not say anything about it.

_ _

Noma guided us to where she lives, a sizeable root burrow out beyond the fringes of the camp. Sulaya was not present. I asked if Sulla would like to wait here...

_ _

"No," the hunter replied, with a little shake of his head. "I will see her when she returns. There are still many others to greet and catch up."

"Okay." Lannon smiled and stood up on his toes for a quick kiss. "You go ahead. I'll be here, or I'll come back after a while."

"You know where to find me."

"Yeah. I can't help it anymore."

The lynx watched as the three wolves - Sulla, Noma, and Stike; Talla and Fa had disappeared again - departed back towards camp, then looked over this little home that she had made for herself. Simple, yet cozy; Lannon peered in close towards the way the roots of the tree arced forward and out to form the walls and ceiling, with the little holes perfectly positioned to let in light but not rain. Inside the earth caved down and away, smooth and solid, clean and precise - with, of course, the same patterns and figures painted and etched along the walls, just like the tents back in camp.

So that was a cultural thing, then, as he had suspected. Lannon felt a little odd about inviting himself into her home unannounced, but figured that she had done the same to him several times before. The burrow settled deep enough that he did not need to bow his head under the living-wood roof. Idly he wondered if all of these she had done the same way as she did his little cup; the lynx reached up and ran his fingers over the walls, feeling at the spots where the sod and soil tinted to the natural reds and browns and yellows of different pigments, as though these dyes had organically settled into place there throughout the long ages of time.

He closed his eyes and sighed, fingers spread over what looked like the shadow of a mountain rising up before a full moon, the charcoal-blue outline of the land blending in with the sky behind it. A little outcrop jutted out from the side of the mountain, and there in sleek shiny black stood the twisted, lightning-struck skeleton of a tree, beneath which knelt the figure of a wolf. Down along the slope of the mountain, rock turned to wood and the trees coated the wall, thick dense greenery struck through with lines of light and mist.

A river curled away from between the trunks, down and across the bared earth wall of the house. Lannon almost expected to see his little hunting cabin down there, but of course it was not - while the little root altar certainly was, standing in a clearing between the trees, complete with angular pinkish-grey strokes of the granite tiling. Two figures stood beside it, a white-furred huntress and a feral who Lannon could only imagine to be her companion.

Sulaya's, he thought. Who was she? Su, I think she said. Beauty. With the hobbled leg.

On and on the mural went. The forest opened up and showed the camp now, with a few tents in particular standing out. These bore little imitations of their actual decoration, soft and swirling sweeps of color that Lannon might have been able to recognize had he spent more time in the main camp. Noma's stood in the center, larger than the others, with a small group of wolves around it. Lannon counted two hunters, two companions, then a hunched, twisted abomination that could only be Sulla, a noticeably space beside him, and the white figure of Sulaya off to the side.

Then the forest closed back in again, and here there were many little images and scenes that the lynx couldn't hope to identify. Groups of wolves and other species following one another between the trees; a tall cliff atop which sparkled a single yellow flower; a river again, this one swelling out into a lake with a deep inky blot at the center; a sparkle of amber dripping from a large tree. Lannon followed the mural as it went, stepping over and around the furniture that Sulaya had around the room - cushions set on the floor, a spread of hides and blankets for her bed, rudimentary shelves and cabinets and other things.

Now he stood halfway around the hut with his back to the door, a low-standing table behind him. The mural finished shortly to his side - or, more properly, it hadn't been finished yet. Again the forest turned to the ridge of a mountain and back, and spread out to show a wider clearing with sparse, structured houses of wood and clay and brick standing apart from one another. Lannon's village, or more likely one of the others around the border of the forest. A pathway cut through along the village and back into woods, and along that pathway where it dipped back between the trees, three liquid drops of bright ochre-amber.

A spider in one, reddish-black with its legs splayed out. A scorpion in the next, a bit flattened and skewed, spiked tail arced at an awkward angle inside its bright prison. Lannon reached up and touched at his ear, at the earring with the very same hanging from smooth bone - a scorpion suspended in amber. On the wall beside this, opposite the spider, waited the image of a little iridescent beetle, side of its shell embellished in subtle blue, green, and violet, done over with a crushed mineral to give it its spectacular sheen.

From there, nothing. The last image Sulaya had added was a sweep of her fingerpads in rich red around the three chunks of amber, then trailing out and down to the side. Smooth, undecorated earth waited beyond. Lannon's ear twitched; he expected at any moment to feel her paws on his waist or shoulders, or her breath in his ear, or to hear her voice from across the house - "what do you think you're doing here?" or "took you long enough" or something else similarly sassy, or...

He lifted his head, swallowed, sighed, and turned - and found that he still stood here alone. A breeze blew from outside, sending a swirling gust of cool air in through the conveniently-placed windows between the twisting roots. Night had started to fall; he wasn't about to lose his way in the woods between here and the camp - he couldn't, with his Sulla-oriented compass in his head - but he still thought he should make it back before it got too dark.

...

and when I awoke this morning, clutched warmly in Sulla's arms as like every morning, I learned that Sulaya had indeed returned to camp. Sulla's muzzle settled into my neck, my muzzle settled into hers, with an arm around her body and her fingers just barely entwined with mine... I almost hesitate to write it down, but I settled into place, nuzzled in a bit closer, and then dozed back off. When I awoke again, of course, she was gone.

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 79

Evening

_ _

I am not surprised to learn that not all of the other hunters are wholly accepting of what has happened between Sulla and myself. This bond of theirs, the bloodrites, have always been a deeply important and private. Again the closest thing they have, in their loose spiritualism, to something being holy. Never would a hunter bond another hunter; for one to bond an outsider, then, stood even greater taboo.

_ _

Despite how long he spent away, Sulla still knows so many of the hunters at camp here. Noma became chieftess the year before Tul's death, and I am to understand that while the "succession", so to say, was planned and expected, it had no effect on Sulla's standing in the tribe. He is simply just popular, and certainly missed.

_ _

I am beginning to meet new people and learn their names. Tuhau, the huntress at the camp "gates", sought me out and apologized. I wrote that down in my journal for later - "I'm sorry" is a good phrase to know in any language. I called Sulla over and we had chatted for a bit...

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 80

Midday

_ _

Noma and Stike still hunt on their own. I would have expected someone of her age to relax at home, like the king on his throne in Solm. Let someone younger, less valuable, more energetic, do your hard work for you. But, no: still she weaves through the woods like a living shadow, Stike prowling from a distance yet still linked so closely to her. I can see how some of the ignorant villagers might think of a hunter-companion pair as frightening: they move with a fluid grace well into the uncanny, yet to call it "unnatural" would be an ironic miscalculation...

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Evening

_ _

I spoke with some of the children today. Their grasp on the Old Tongue rivals my own, which makes it an interesting learning experience. While the hunters prepared a meal from the day's hunt I sat around the fire with some of them - Huca, "big crow", and Zala, "noisy insect", which I think might just be their word for "cicada" - and exchanged phrases and words, using hand signs to fill in the gaps for what we couldn't explain. I thought of my father as I saw him in Sulla's memories, chatting with the younger Noma, laughing. Enjoying himself.

_ _

It's easy to feel at home here.

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 82

Evening

_ _

Everyone wanted to know if Sulla could still hunt, without a companion. I still do not know what I am: I am no feral, no companion, yet at the same time I am hardly a hunter. It is a title of reverence. I am a lynx, a scholar, no longer a mage. I have thought about it before, and never came to a conclusion. I suppose for now it does not matter, for when we depart, when we leave the camp and hunt, it is just that: we hunt.

_ _

I can feel the pulse of the world around and beneath us as we hunt. The breath of the forest stirring around us, the deep, primordial essence of everything working in tandem. This is what he meant when I asked, when he said that it is their - our - purpose to seek, to track, to hunt, to kill, to consume. It is intense and exhilarating, and it makes me feel... almost as if we truly are one. One mind in two bodies, linked together, swinging and twirling in this heavy, breathless dance.

_ _

We return triumphant. As we always have, and as we always will.

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

Day 84

Midday

_ _

Sulaya came to me again. She was there for the ceremony...

...with her feral amber eyes watching from the crowd, wearing another altered version of the garb of the tribe. Hers looked more suiting of a priestess, more flowing cloth embellished with strips of leather and hide, yet devoid of metal ornamentation. That made sense; Lannon still hadn't seen any evidence of the wolves using a forge, or even recognizing metallurgy, past the occasional appearance of a steel arrowhead in a quiver, or a dagger with an iron blade instead of obsidian or bone.

A good portion of the tribe had come as well, though of course not all of them. There were those who had to care for their pups, those who were out on distant hunts, though who did not care to come, those who had not heard. Lannon stood in the cool water of the river that arced around the exterior of the camp, by his reckoning likely an offshoot stream from the one near his hunting cabin. Fur bared to the sky and air, head to toe he stood there, the chill of the water seeping in yet going largely unnoticed, for he had the warmth of Sulla's body behind him, and his arms around his chest.

"...We would give the standard ceremony for this..." Noma went on, ankle-deep in the water near the bank. Stike rested along the pebbly shore, showing his broad side to the sky to soak in the sun. "But that would be improper. You understand."

"I understand," Lannon said, and looked up to Sulla's muzzle above his. The wolf smiled. He looked beautiful in the light, even more than the lynx already knew him for.

"And as for propriety..." Noma spread her arms out. "This has happened so rarely, and never in my living memory, that we do not have a speech for it. The traditional ceremony carries with it a bit of a dense passage from oral lore..."

"Do you remember the forms?" Sulla murmured with a chuckle to Lannon.

The lynx laughed as well. "What, with your - what was it - I walk beneath the sky, in the... arms of the forest..."

"Yes. It's like that."

"Oh, gods."

"...So," the chieftess continued, "in the lack of a prepared format, the process falls to you. Have you something suitable, between the two of you?" Orange eyes flicked back and forth. "As uncanny as it is, for you to understand each other while speaking separate languages?"

That made them laugh again - and, as one, an idea sparked into being. "Yes," they agreed, as one.

"Excellent. In the bonding of a hunter," said to Sulla, "to an outsider," said to Lannon, "performed only... four times before, if memory serves... it is customary to stand here in the river, as it is the water of the world that feeds the rest of the wood. Jewelry is exchanged. Sulaya?"

Lannon turned his head. "Jewelry?" he thought; "I haven't seen any of you wear it."

_ _

"We don't, generally," Sulla answered. "It is more symbolic than functional. Jewelry catches on branches and snags on leaves."

_ _

"That makes sense."

_ _

"It looks good on you, though."

_ _

The lynx patted at Sulla's arm. "I'm glad I'm an exception."

_ _

Forward the white-furred wolfess strode, stepping deeper into the water until it came up to her waist just as it did for the two participants of the ceremony. Lannon remembered all the times he had gone for his morning bath only to be interrupted much the same as this, although - for all of those instances, she had worn considerably less clothing.

A smirk crossed her muzzle, as though she could read Lannon's thoughts. He focused on them more intensely, daring her to do just this; the wolfess's ear flicked and a little glitter of fang showed through, and then she raised her paws, cupped together, for him.

"Take it." Her voice in his head, cool and sweet. He expected something like in her first dream with her, where she had placed a bit of amber in his paw, squeezed it, and then freed the little beetle within. When she removed her paws, there in his palm sat a pair of earrings, each a hoop of bone with a small bead of amber capping each end. Lannon squinted and peered at it: in each hoop, one of those little drops of amber indeed contained a beetle while the other held a tiny spider.

Beetle and spider here, and scorpion in his ear already. Feeling the weight, it flicked; Sulaya's eyes flashed up to it.

"Are you going to pierce my ear again?" It was good that the water came up above his waist, when he sent this to her.

"No," she replied, with another glance to Sulla behind him. "He shall. And you shall his."

Her eyes held his a moment a longer before she turned and waded back through the water, murmuring something to her grandmother as she went. Noma suppressed a grin and looked back to the two.

"Sulla? Lannon."

The wolf's huge paw came in over Lannon's and plucked up one of the ornaments. "Shua-eo..." he rumbled. "Face me, and turn your head."

So he did. The water stirred around him; it seemed the closeness, despite the watching crowd, had had a similar effect on Sulla as it had on himself. Lannon wet his lips, swallowed, smiled up to him - his _shualaya,_his life-mate, bonded, and beloved - and turned his head.

"This will hurt."

"It will be worth it."

Hot, damp breath trickling down the side of his muzzle, his cheek, and his ear, making it twitch and tickle; Sulla pressed a forefinger and thumb in along the tip beneath the tuft, licked his lips - the sound made Lannon squirm - then inhaled, held it, sighed...

...and the wet crunch nearly made his knees buckle, but he held on. A bit of fiddling and wincing later and there the new ring hung, a thin trickle of blood oozing down the back.

"Ready?" Noma continued. Lannon looked to her and winced again; he shouldn't move his head too quickly.

"Ready."

"Lannon? Sulla."

The lynx looked up and giggled. "Can you - bend down, a little? I can't..."

Sulla smirked, trying his best to stifle a laugh, and folded his paws behind his back as he did so. First he turned one way, showing his intact ear, then paused, wet his lips again, and turned the other way, to show the halfway-torn one. At this angle a single blue eye, Lannon's blue, sparkled in the light of the day.

"Use your sharpest fang," he murmured. "Line it up, test it gently, then bite straight through. In and out. Your little kitten teeth should make it much cleaner and easier than-"

Lannon tugged his arm down around the back of Sulla's neck to bring him closer. "I'll show you 'kitten'," he growled into the wolf's ragged ear, then did as instructed - but used his sandpaper tongue first to guide himself into place. Instinct made him hesitate, but a gentle mental urging from the wolf pushed him over, and in another few seconds he felt the sickening crunch from the other side, as well as tasted the blood welling into his mouth. He swallowed it down instead of spit it out, and once he wiped at his lips with the back of his paw, lapped it off of his fur as well. Sulla fixed the ring into place there. The two turned to Noma again.

She held her arms out towards them. "Your words?"

Sulla tilted his head back to the sky, smiled, and sighed. He rested his paws on Lannon's hips, looked down to his life-mate, opened his mouth -

And then Sulaya began, instead.

"Aval va ko-ca, aval va kee-lula, aval va susa-bal, aval va vurum-sta,

ea ulal eo no, aruru fa lla eo ea..."

_ _

A tune more familiar to Lannon than any other, with the original Old Tongue rendition of the song more solidly settled into his memory. Sulla joined in for the second line, and then Lannon did as well for the next, quieter than the others in case he messed up, but still singing along. Noma joined in too at one point, as did a few from the crowd; he heard their voices coming together in song, hovering out over the burbling of the river and the wind in the trees.

One by one, then, they died off again as they had joined. Sulaya was the last to finish off - "faruru hau, faruru cha..." she sang, and tapered off. This left Lannon and Sulla on their own, discolored eyes matched in each other, one in mind and heart, two in body.

"Aruru fa lla eo ea," they sang, "eo ulal ea se lla." Just like when Sulla returned to the river by the hunting cabin with his voice restored to him, the words first uttered then and reinforced now.

~ ~ ~

As long as you love me, I will love you too. Shualaya, he called me; I murmured it back to him. We held each other, and met in a kiss, and let our bond tingle and fizz between us until we opened our eyes again and noticed that we stood alone in the river. Alone, yet together.

_ _

How things have changed! And how they shall change into the future... as we moved to leave the ceremony site I looked down into the water, and saw myself there. My eyes mismatched as his, one blue and one green. One ear bearing the record of my life as a lynx, the three studs from childhood to departure, the hanging chain of the magic I no longer wield, the vertical cuff for the love I have finally attained. It feels right to wear, now. It feels proper. Then the other ear, not as heavy, glittering orange like the eyes of the Old Blood, two rings: the new hoop placed beneath the hanging amber of Sulaya's scorpion so that the beetle and spider hover around it. Just like on her wall, all wrapped together.

_ _

She has largely left both of us alone since we arrived here last week. I wonder why that is...

_ _

~ ~ ~

_ _

"Lannon."

The lynx perked up from where he sat whittling at a small chunk of wood. The flickering light of the fire made it a bit difficult, but he had spent the past two weeks trying his best and honing the talent he had never known to possess: Noma's cane now bore another hand's breadth of carvings along its length, while a pale palm-sized arachnid stood upon one of Sulaya's shelves back in her hut. It was supposed to be a scorpion, but Lannon had accidentally chopped the stinger off while working at the detail, and upon seeing it the wolfess had split and doubled over in laughter...

He scratched at a spot on his cheek with the flat of his blade. "Talla?"

Looking at the young wolf, it seemed as though the light came from those sharp golden eyes instead of the fire itself. Three weeks was barely enough time to learn a language, but what Lannon's father had told him, combined with the basic grammar rules he had picked up at the academy, meant that he had at least some grasp of it now. Still, though, the hunter spoke slowly and deliberately, sounding out each syllable as he went.

"How long will you be staying?"

Lannon tilted his head back and watched the stars. Summer had continued into its depths, with the night air now starting to take on the familiar bite of approaching autumn. The sky overhead had changed as well, spinning its tapestry around this little chunk of land upon which he sat.

"We spoke about that," he replied after a moment, working through the proper grammar sequence of the Old Tongue in his head. Sulla was there but distant, dozing off against Stike's side in Noma's tent. "Not much longer, now. There remains much for me to do. I came out here for research, and to... investigate a myth." How silly that seemed, now. How... unreal. "I must return my findings to my academy."

"And stay there?" Talla reached out to rest an arm over Fa's body. The big feral huffed and shifted under the added weight.

"No," Lannon answered right out. "When I healed Sulla, I sacrificed my ability to use the very thing that sealed the cure. I forfeited my magic in exchange for his sanity."

"Is there a cure?" Sulla had asked on a prior night. The subject had no introduction: Lannon reached for his lamp to turn it out, chest still heaving with effort, sweat beading on his forehead, with Sulla's legs beneath his and the wolf's arms on either side of his chest - and the little twinge of annoyance that he could not douse the flame at a distance had put the thought into Sulla's head. "Will you be able to use your magic again?"

_ _

"No," Lannon replied, without thought. "Or... with Spirit magic, there might be. With your daughter's primordial magic, there likely is. But she told me she would not."

_ _

"She cannot, more likely."

_ _

"She only deals in what should be. Yes, I know." He squirmed in place and reached up to cup his mate's muzzle. "As for Spirit magic, I was the greatest hope, and now it is beyond me. So no, there is no cure - and if ever that changes, it will not be for quite a long time...

Talla looked to the sky as well. "A worthwhile trade."

"Yes." Lannon bowed his head. "I'd do it again, had I known the cost."

"So you leave, reach your academy, and then what? Leave again?"

"Yes. Return here, most likely. I would like to spend some time with my father, in the grasslands beyond the trees." Lannon smiled as he bent back over his work. "I'd like to bring him out here, too, to meet with Noma again. They're acquainted, you know."

"I believe I did."

"And then..." The feline trailed off. He turned the little wooden figure back and forth over his paws, and leaned in to blow away the clinging curls and dust. "I'm not sure. The rest of our lives remains to us. Sulla had much of his stolen away, and now he finally has that time back." Then, suddenly, the lynx scoffed. A flash of emotion sparked through his bond.

"We are hunters," he murmured. "So, we hunt."