For some time now Našobok had been in his own place, with his heart in his body, and if that heart still bled and twisted on occasions… well, it was only to be expected. Most darks were indigo-black and true, River bearing him into Wind unhampered. Solitary. Free.
But there was also no denying some were ice-white, long and lonely, leaving Našobok to yearn for the sounds of the only inLand family he still could claim, all of them breathing beside him in the stillness.
“No babes thisdark, though.”
Našobok looked up to find Palatan’s Forest-hued eyes upon him, reading every thought like a sounding chart. “They grow fast, a’io? Kuli means to den with his little friends, and of course Anahli has oških obligations.”
Našobok snorted. “Have you been espoused so long as to make rutting an obligation?”
Aylaniś returned his snort, grinning.
Palatan laughed, lifted up the skin of tulapaiś and leaned back, stretching out his legs. “Ai, to be oških again!—and a good rut my only pressing obligation!” He leaned forwards, drank then passed it to Aylaniś. “But true, thisdark the bedding will be ours alone.”
“Though I’ll wager Kuli will soon enough come creeping into our tent,” Aylaniś added, taking a drink and offering it in turn. “Likely early dawning. So you’ll have his feet on your tail after all. He adores his Uncle Našobok.”
“Just like old times.” Našobok accepted the skin.
Arrow came trotting from a stand of trees, damp from a wander. Too polite to beg for titbits, he greeted Palatan first, then Aylaniś and Našobok, then curled up beside his person, between Palatan and Fire’s heat.
Palatan produced a treat nonetheless, gaze sobering as he eyed the old fleethound. “The mastiffs still refuse to tangle with him, at least. I hesitated to bring him this time. He grows old, and stiff. One Sun those great dogs will humiliate him.”
“He’ll be more humiliated should you leave him behind,” Aylaniś said. “Perhaps it’s time to find a younger fleethound, maybe two. They would bear him company and help him when you cannot.”
And when Našobok reached out and stroked his lovemate’s knee, comfort, Palatan shrugged. “Ai, it’s the way of things. Drink up, wyrh-chieftain! Perhaps you can sit at my side for Dancing.” Palatan nudged him. “On my blanket, I hope.”
Aylaniś smirked. “Are you just trying to annoy your relations?”
“Why not? My sister has my love, but her opinion holds no fear for me.”
Našobok waved a hunk of nutcake. “You do remember what sharing a blanket means here in dawnLands?”
“Probably less than it does in duskLands,” Palatan pointed out, unperturbed. “And no less than the truth.”
“HE’S HERE.”
Dawn spilled into the great, deep-hewn den. Sarinak paused in the doorway, tying back the woven door curtain and sliding off his boots. A brace of mastiffs milled just outside; one started inward, changed ša’s mind the next breath as Sarinak growled, “Out!”
On the far side of the great circle, Inhya kept seeing to Council’s final preparations. “He wouldn’t come, unless”—she flipped out a blanket from the well-filled basket at her feet—“he wants something.”
“Surely he means only to see Palatan and Aylaniś,” Sarinak mused softly. “For there is nothing in the entirety of Naišwyrh’uq that the one who was my brother would admit to wanting.”
Amidst placing another blanket, Inhya blinked. “N’da, not Na… the wyrhling. I mean Galenu a’Hassun. He arrived lastdark.”
Sarinak cocked his head, setting the beads and copper upon his Sky-hued head-wrap dancing.
“He stayed with Nechtoun.”
“Well, of course.”
“Your sire should know better.”
“Inhya. My sire has loved Galenu since their time as oških. Playmates often grow into lifelong companions—look to your brother’s preferences.”
“Preferences!” Inhya snorted, moved to another place and unfolded another blanket. “My brother acts oških when it comes to the wyrhling. He is Alekšu now, and also should know better. Aylaniś merely encourages them both.”
“One of Horsetalker ways that I’m glad you’ve rejected.” Sarinak’s grin flashed just before he turned away and put curled fingers to his lips in a shrill, short whistle.
“You are enough for my bedshelf, Sarinak Mound-chieftain. Though”—a wry moue—“no doubt your father still wishes you would take a second spouse.”
This was greeted with a snort. “Despite never doing so himself.”
Inhya pretended to consider, not for the first time. “It would make less work for me, at that.”
Sarinak eyed her. “N’da, spouse, you’re quite enough for my bedshelf. And my den.”
Inhya smirked and turned away, exchanging her emptied basket for another filled with jerked fish and dried fruit. Open Council could be long.
The results of the whistle—a quartet of nigh-grown oških—trouped in, discarding footwear and tendering polite greetings. The lot of them nevertheless sounded like a herd of rowdy draught animals. Inhya’s smirk broadened.
“Take the empty baskets to the stores,” Sarinak ordered his helpers. “Return for the rest before the drums call Council.”
Another rumbling of unshod feet, accompanied by a teasing, if muted, commentary amidst themselves as they departed, hung with emptied baskets.
“We have overmuch to look forwards to with our own sons.” Sarinak ambled over and traced his fingers at Inhya’s shoulder.
Inhya nuzzled them, sighed. “I fear it’s our eldest where Galenu has interest.”
“Has he approached you?”
“I saw Nechtoun upon thisSun’s rising. He informed me Galenu intends to broach the matter in Council.”
“And your answer?”
“You know my heart in this.”
“A’io. And you know Galenu can claim sire rights,” Sarinak reminded. “His sister’s son was Tokela’s sire.”
“Sire rights! A foolish custom.”
“Spouse, sometimes you still speak like your dam’s People.”
Inhya clucked mock disapproval and said, satisfied, “Well, Galenu can have no sire rights while Tokela is still ahlóssa.”
Sarinak bent to take a blanket from her basket, flipped it into a place beside the long, low
