Like earlier times, this. Comfortable. Even Rain’s patter upon rich foliage didn’t disturb the sense of normalcy and peace Anahli hitherto had found only on the wide, dry plain, her horse galloping between her thighs and her weapons at her back.
Also like earlier times were her dam’s next words, all soft reproof and lesson.
“Mind this, Madoc chieftain-son,” Aylaniś said, quiet, as she tossed a braided hempen rope across to Anahli, who caught it easily. “To reject what’s owed is not honourable. I know Kuli’s love seems a burden to you, but you must remember it is love.”
Madoc frowned. “But he hangs on me, all the while. He won’t even let me breathe!”
Anahli had to fight a smirk, started to mutter how Tokela might feel the same about Madoc.
With a small shake of head that belied a tiny grin, Aylaniś touched Anahli’s hand. “It’s a hard lesson, little cousin,” Aylaniś told Madoc, “to set free what we love. Harder for males than fems, I think. We must let our loved ones leave us before their first breath, even.”
Warmth pooled in Anahli’s belly—the words, and her dam’s smile, turning fond upon her.
Madoc frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Aylaniś tilted the smile to Madoc, but her eyes remained upon Anahli. Anahli nodded, and stood. Throwing the rope across a lower branch, she tied a gathering knot and began to haul at the rope, exposing the wabadeh’s pale belly. Aylaniś continued, “When a dam bears her young, she must reconcile herself to the letting go. It is a thing of Grandmother, bonds that must be severed, but never can be.”
“Sometimes they are, though,” Anahli found herself saying, quiet. “Sometimes people willingly sever them.”
Still, the amber eyes held to hers, soft but resolute. “Loved ones are always with us. Their Spirit never leaves, even if their bodies are far away or gone. It doesn’t mean they don’t love us, it only means something weighty has called their heart.”
Something weighty. Perhaps like her sire taking Alekšu’s horns from Chogah. Or Našobok leaving his family for River.
River, who made silent talk with Tokela with such fierceness.
If River spoke to Našobok with the same fervour as She had Tokela… Anahli didn’t question how she kenned such a thing; the knowledge had sunk into her heart, undeniable. And if She possessed them so utterly, took their strength, filled their hearts…
Perhaps that was love, too? And did anyone have the right to deny such things, to anyone?
“Love should be enough to keep anyone at your side!” Madoc claimed stoutly.
“Sometimes.” Aylaniś inspected her knife, then bent to the carcass. “Sometimes not. There are all kinds of love, and none of them are wrong… other than they may not be right for you.”
Madoc kept frowning. Anahli bent once more to the buck, thoughts tumbling.
“Madoc, when Kuli returns, we’ll need your strength to help hang this wabadeh,” Aylaniś deflected an ahlóssa frown with some mastery. “Between us we should be able to parcel and pack the carcass onto your horse.”
“My horse?”
“A’io. My mare is young, and would prefer a treble of our People on her back than a blooded carcass.”
“My dam often says that horses a’Naišwyrh are only fit for draught. Of course my sire says horses a’Šaákfo are hot-hearted silly things not practical for work…” He trailed off, only then realising it might be construed as insult.
Aylaniś laughed. “Well, I’m pleased to see Inhya keeps you riding as she can. Even a coarse draught pony. You’re of my tribe through your dam, and without our four-legged Kin we are nothing.”
“Aška taught us to ride, both me and Tokela,” Madoc started, then subsided, his realisation obvious. Likely he and Tokela wouldn’t be riding together anymore.
“Your eyes are not watching outwards, but inwards,” Aylaniś chided, gentle, and as Madoc quickly minded his duty, she continued, “You’ll follow Tokela’s path soon enough, nephew. Never wish away what Suns you have. There’s little honour—or content—in resenting the way things must be. Paths differ, others will go ahead and trail behind, and we must wish their steps be fair and firm. Otherwise our heart grows small.”
“A great heart,” Anahli abruptly sang, pulling on the carcass, “is coaxed, like a wild horse ša is coaxed, with open eyes and Spirit.”
“And sweet, sweet talk,” Aylaniś joined in.
Madoc wasn’t having it. “So I’m to just let Tokela push me away? Like he pushes everyone away except that one, and he’ll take Tokela away on his rotted old boat and—!” Madoc broke off, cheeks once again flushed dark.
“You’ll not find me agreeing with you on Tokela’s chosen playmate, my nephew. Našobok is oathbrother to me and mine.”
“But he’s Riverwalker! Outlier!”
Again, Aylaniś answered Madoc; again, her eyes slid to Anahli’s. “I respect your tribal law, Madoc, but it’s not mine. And even a chieftain-son must respect that.”
“But—”
“Našobok’s heart is great with love. He will be kind to Tokela, and Tokela wants him. What else should matter?”
“Tokela just likes to flout everything that matters!”
“Perhaps he does,” Anahli found herself saying. “Perhaps he feels he’s little choice. Or,” she narrowed here eyes at Madoc, “perhaps you should ask yourself what you feel like, now, without him. I don’t know Tokela as well as you, but I think he feels alone about many things.”
“He wants it that way!”
Anahli shrugged, aware of her dam’s eyes upon her as she continued, “There are many ways to be alone, Madoc. Some make you content. Some just make you more isolated.”
Madoc subsided, chewing at his lower lip.
Aylaniś reached out with bloodied fingers and traced them, first on Anahli’s cheek then across her breast.
Anahli smiled, resumed the song. Aylaniś joined in, and even Madoc hummed along.
A rustle interrupted, alerted them. After a brief cock of head, Aylaniś nodded.
“That will be Kuli with the horses.”
SO STILL. So quiet.
The space behind his ears wasn’t all crowded with thick heat and not-sound; his eyes weren’t filming over with sparks and indigo-ebon; his heart didn’t try to spend itself in fiendish labour
