And there was Anahli.
“Do we have to take Dancer?” Akumeh twisted his eyebrows at Tokela, levelling a wry smirk at Anahli as she strode up. He still hadn’t—quite—forgiven her for humiliating him so—despite the fond familiarity of address.
Anahli tossed a fishing spear lengthwise at Akumeh; he caught it one-handed and twirled it, tucked it under one arm. She grinned, fully aware of his annoyance and seeming, somehow, to revel in it. Sauntering over, she linked arms with Tokela and offered the other to Akumeh. With a roll of eyes, he took it.
Tokela rather suspected he admired ‘Dancer’.
Madoc, on the other hand, flicked Tokela a sullen glance from where he stood on the bank next to his sire. As if to make up for that, Kuli came running past Sarinak and flung himself at Tokela and Anahli, chattering all the while.
“Ai, I’m glad you’re coming with us, Tokela!” The reedy shout could, of course, be heard downRiver. Undeterred by Madoc’s loud groan, Kuli climbed Tokela like a favourite tree. More from self-defence than anything, Tokela snatched and swung Kuli around to his back. Akumeh was grinning. Anahli gave Kuli’s hind end a shove as he slipped mid-climb.
“You’re slippery as an eel, little Fox!”
“Madoc’s been grumbling like an empty belly, but the rest of us have missed you, haven’t we, Laocha?”
Laocha was in full agreement, hugging Tokela’s waist. Her curly black hair stuck out in wet spirals, her thick ahlóssa braid the only part of it lying tame, sodden-flat against her skull. “Will you tell us a story after we’re finished?”
Their enthusiasm warmed despite the chill of Madoc’s mood. “Perhaps.”
“Ai,” Akumeh said, “I didn’t know you were a StoryKeeper.”
“I’m not, really—”
“He should be!” Kuli insisted, and this time Tokela didn’t demur. Akumeh’s smile had tilted from indulgence into blatant admiration. Anahli’s smirk grew to laughter as Tokela yipped. Kuli had grabbed hold of his hair.
“Perhaps I’m glad”—Akumeh gave wry consideration to Kuli’s progress—“I’ve no stories in my heart after all.”
“Didn’t you, Madoc?” Kuli pressed. “Miss Tokela?”
“Of course.” Madoc’s gaze said otherwise. “When I have thought of him.”
A shadowling answer from behind Tokela’s eyes snarled back, just as thoughtless and cruel. Instead, with utmost self-composure, Tokela answered, “I’m sure Madoc has more important things to occupy him. Like hanging onto Aška’s skirts.”
Anahli nudged Tokela with an amused snort. Kuli giggled from the security of his perch on Tokela’s back, clearly not remembering his own tearful hanging-on to his dam’s belt when she’d first left him there before the wintering.
Madoc tossed his head and growled—seemingly to his sire but peering at Tokela the entire while, “Perhaps these oških aren’t the ones to help. All they ever do is swagger and throw their spears at each other.”
“Do you question me, son?” Sarinak smacked the back of the bright head. “Can you can swim better than Tokela? Have you somehow grown stronger than Akumeh? Or quicker than Anahli? Perhaps I should do as your oških brother suggests and send your bold tongue back to your dam’s kirtles!”
Madoc’s face flamed.
Sarinak beckoned Tokela. “You know falling weir best. You will lead.” Sufferance had been bought, it seemed, with Tokela’s removal to the oških den. “You little ones, mind him well, and all of you keep your eyes sharp along the trail. Several wily bearKin chance that place.” With a curt nod, Sarinak motioned them on.
Tokela put it from his mind as Akumeh snatched their remaining spears from the bank. “You take the little ones, Otter. I’ll ride herd on this mouth.” Akumeh suited actions to talk and grabbed at Madoc’s ahlóssa braid, hauling him towards the path. Anahli and Laocha followed suit.
“Tokela is Tokela, not Otter!” Kuli took umbrage from his perch on Tokela’s back, then grabbed hold with a little yip as Tokela trotted after.
“Oh, I know his name. But Otter suits him.” Undeterred, Akumeh threw back a grin.
“Well,” Kuli considered, “perhaps it does make sense. Uncle Sarinak is right—Tokela does swim better than any of us.”
“How nice,” Tokela exchanged the grin with Akumeh, “that you make sense.”
“Hunh. I wasn’t talking about your swimming, playmate.”
Tokela’s ears heated. His grin, however, widened.
Anahli nudged him again, eyes dancing.
“I think Tokela swims like otterKin, too.” Laocha put her bid in, taking Anahli’s hand and skipping along beside.
Madoc, unwilling to risk another swat by squirming from Akumeh’s grip, let himself be propelled along. But the fond play between the oških increased his grumbles.
“I can swim, too. Not as good as you, Tokela. Or Madoc”—Kuli pacified as Madoc shot him a glare—“but well enough.”
The dull rumble of the waterfall was beginning to touch their ears.
“What has happened with falling weir, chieftain-pup?” Anahli asked Madoc, who was indeed beginning to sound like growling young wolfKin.
Well, and Madoc had always liked Anahli. Enough to stop growling and answer, “It’s stuck again. I was going to free it, but Laocha and the Spawn said they’d tell if I did.”
“A good thing, too,” Tokela retorted.
“And if you call my little brother ‘Spawn’ one more time, I’ll end you,” Anahli furthered.
While Madoc was thinking up a suitable comeback, Akumeh swatted him. “Anahli speaks truth. And ahlóssa have no business moving weirs alone. You should know that more than most, chieftain-pup.”
“I’m no pup!” Madoc protested. “And I wasn’t afraid!”
“To have no fear isn’t brave, just stupid,” Anahli pointed out.
Tokela said nothing. He knew it would be fat to Fire. But Anahli was right. Falling weir was particularly treacherous, beneath a waterfall cascading from a stony promontory to the deep sink below. The fall of water was a prime “ladder” for the fish to use to the upper pools, and therefore also prime territory to set one of the largest weirs: a cunningly laced contraption of weeping-tree staves and netting, easily moveable.
The path grew chancy, winding up a woody bluff. The fall’s rumble was increasing into a roar. As Tokela swung his passenger down, Kuli ran forwards, dogging Madoc’s heels.
“Did you spot any bearKin lingering?” Anahli asked. Madoc’s negative was muffled
