"The Questing Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Galloway James)

Chapter 9

The mood in the small cabin was grim.

Dolanna sat on the edge of the bunk, holding a shirt to the grievous wound in Tarrin's chest, flanked by Faalken and Allia, who held his paw in her delicate hands as both stared down at him in grief-stricken worry. He had lost so much blood, laying there on the dock! The Wikuni wouldn't let anyone get close to him until well after the clipper and its accompanying frigate were a good distance away. And then they let everyone go and retreated, without hurting anyone else. The entire time, Tarrin lay there and bled onto the wharf, losing precious moments and precious blood, dying in front of them. She was amazed that he had survived for so long. But Tarrin was strong, and his will to live was formidable. That was the only thing keeping him alive now.

There was nothing else she could do. She felt so helpless! The wound had been inflicted by a silver arrowhead, and that made it unhealable by anything other than time. But time was the one thing that Tarrin did not have. His life hung by a thread, and Dolanna had seen enough to know that the wound was mortal. No matter what she did, it would not be enough. Without magical healing, Tarrin would eventually give up, and then he would die. His stubbornness was the only thing making his heart beat. He was already pale, the pallor of death, losing the blood that helped color his skin, and looked dead already.

"Dolanna, how is he?" Faalken asked in a very worried voice, looking down at him.

"Silence!" Dolanna snapped, holding the shirt harder to his bare chest. She had to stop the blood. If she could just stop the bleeding! Then he may have a chance! She could feel his hearbeat through the shirt held up to his chest. She could feel it slowing more and more, becoming irregular in its rhythm, see that his breathing was becoming shallower and shallower. He was starting to falter!

"No, Tarrin, do not give up!" she said in a desperate tone. "We are here for you!"

But her pleas had no effect. His heartbeat stopped for a span of seconds, each an eternity to her, then it started up again, much weaker than before. It managed only a few beats before it stopped again, and then he let out all his breath in a slow sigh.

Then she felt someone behind her. Dolanna turned to look, and gaped in astoundment as Triana stepped through the doorway. As tall as Azakar and as lithe as Allia, the strong-featured Were-cat took only one look at the three of them, and then at Tarrin. Her expression never changed from its stony mask as she reached out and put her paws on his chest, between Dolanna's hands, and looked right at her. "Don't move it," she said. "And be careful. When I do this, he may jump."

Dolanna nodded wordlessly and pushed down hard. She never felt anything, but Tarrin's body suddenly convulsed, and he took in a powerful breath, as if he'd been dunked into a icy pond. Then he collapsed back to the bed, his hearbeat and breathing stronger.

"What did you do?" Allia asked in worry.

"Gave him the strength he needs," she replied in her powerful voice. "Now keep that bandage on the wound. I'm not done yet."

The three of them watched as she kept her paws on him. They couldn't see anything that she did, but Tarrin lost the pallor that had denoted the loss of blood, and his breathing stabilized into a very slow rhythm. "Keep that bandage on him," she said again. "Don't move it until I tell you to."

"Why are you doing this?" Dolanna managed to ask, keeping her elation that he seemed to be improving to herself. "Tarrin said you meant to kill him."

"I've meant to kill my other children from time to time as well," she said gruffly, keeping her paws on him. "He's no different."

"Your child?"

"He is now," she snorted. "And I don't let my children die unless I'm the one that kills them. Who did this to him?"

"It was the Wikuni," Allia said quietly. "They ambushed us. Tarrin never had a chance."

"I saw them," she said. "I'll deal with them later. Right now, I'm needed here. You, out," she said, looking at Faalken. "Stand at this door and kill anyone that tries to come in. You, go get some hot water and rags. We need to clean the wound before we dress it," she ordered of Allia. "You, Sorceress, stay here. I need your Sorcery."

"I cannot heal him."

"I know, but you can use your power in other ways. We need to get this rag off of him and bandage him without reopening the wound, and we'll need your power to do it."

"As you command," she said obediently. "Allia, Faalken, do as she says. Tarrin's life is in her hands."

"Is he going to be alright?" Allia asked hesitantly.

"I can't promise anything, but he's tough. I think he'll make it, if we're very careful."

Allia burst into tears, and Faalken embraced her. "Go on, my dear ones," Dolanna said gently. "Tarrin still needs us."

It was like trying to find a way out of nowhere.

Tarrin's consciousness floated in a sea of blackness, and he was curiously detached from his senses. He'd felt that way before, and a part of him seemed to understand that he'd been hurt. But he couldn't recall when or how it happened. He floated in that sea of nothingness for either a second or eternity before the first fringes of sensation reached him, wondering what had happened.

The first sensation was pain. A chronic wave of pain that seemed buried in his chest, and emanated out in pulses timed with the beating of his heart. He was somewhat accustomed to feeling pain, but this was something new. Even in his detached state, he could tell that it was intense, acute pain, pain that would leave him thrashing about in agony if he were fully conscious. But it felt strange to him, knowing that it was pain, yet not reacting to it as he felt that he should. To him, it merely was, and though it was a bad sensation, there was no fear or worry in it for him, and it couldn't seem to touch him.

But that pain became more and more focused. He began understanding it, realizing that it was the pain of a deep wound, and it became clearer and clearer to him. It did start to feel for him, and he began to get uncomfortable with it lodged inside him the way it was. But as the sense of the pain sharpened in him, so too did other senses. He became fuzzily aware of sounds around him, of someone holding his paw, of the feel of sheets against bare skin. A cool sensation on his skin, like the air of an autumn night. But overwhelming all of them was the pain.

It was in his chest. It went through his chest, like a spear of pain that drove right through his heart, and it was the beating of his heart that made the pain throb through him.

He had no idea where he was, what had happened, or why he was there. Wherever there was. Everything seemed hazed over his semi-conscious awareness, and he found it hard to even think. He couldn't remember anything, and images from his memory seemed to drift through his mind randomly. Memories of his life before Jesmind, memories of Jesmind and the Tower. Strange memories, things that seemed like they belonged to someone else. Of him and Allia and Keritanima in the baths, laughing and playing like children in the empty chamber, splashing at one another. Of the day he found the strange gossamer wing that still resided in his special box, one of his most prized and treasured possessions. Images of his mother, Elke Kael, holding her axe lightly in her hand and teaching him the best way to hold a sword. Of the many fights he'd had with Jenna when both of them were very young. How they had hated each other when they were very small, only to outgrow it and have it turn into a powerful friendship when they entered adolescence. He couldn't remember when that had happened, of which memory was older than which, or even of what had happened recently. The images were a jumble, and he couldn't sort out which ones were long ago, and which were only last month.

He felt someone squeeze his paw. It was a strong contact, strong in physical power and strong in the sensitivity of the touch. He struggled to find some way to tell whoever was holding his paw that he knew it was there, that he was nearly awake, but he couldn't figure out where his paws were.

The effort had cost him, more than he realized. He spiralled back into the unfathomable blackness.

The next time he clawed himself near the surface of his sleep, things seemed different. The pain was still there, but it seemed somewhat duller now, as if time had taken the edge off of it. There was warmth now rather than cold, and he could sense light striking his eyelids. He could hear garbled voices, and it seemed that his ears were trying to discover the direction from which they issued. There was still someone holding onto his paw, squeezing it gently. But this time, he had enough sense of himself to understand which muscles to use to respond.

"Dolanna!" a voice said in a frenzy. For some reason, he could understand the words now, when before it was nothing but a jumble, but he couldn't identify the voice. "He squeezed my hand!"

About that time, he managed to remember how his nose worked. The scents in the place where he was were thick, and the air was a bit stuffy. It was someplace small, someplace with no windows to let air flow. The coppery smell of Allia was the first one he managed to pick out, then he could identify the lavender scent of Dolanna. Dar's dusky scent registered to him, as did the leathery smell of Faalken. There were other scents in the room, a few he couldn't identify, but the musky smell of Triana was almost immediately recognizable.

He didn't have the energy to be surprised. She was in the room, at that very moment. Why was she there? And why wasn't she trying to take his throat out?

He found the energy to make his eyes work. His eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes rebelled against the bright light that assaulted them. Once they managed to focus, to close out the majority of that light, he looked up through spots and smears in his vision and saw Dolanna, Triana, and Allia looking down at him. Faalken and Dar were with them. It had been Dar holding his paw. They all looked relieved, except for Triana. She just looked down at him with that penetrating stare, her emotions hidden behind the stony mask that was her expression.

"Tarrin," Dolanna smiled, putting her hand on his forehead gently. "Don't try to speak."

She looked haggard. They all did, except for Triana. Faalken had at least a ride's worth of beard, and he couldn't remember seeing it there before. Dolanna had on a dirty dress, and Allia's eyes were deeply sunk into her head.

"H-How… long?" he managed to whisper.

"You've been asleep for nearly a ride, cub," Triana answered. "And Dolanna told you not to talk. You'll just wear yourself out again." He looked at her, and she seemed to understand the unspoken question in his eyes. "Why am I here? Because I haven't given up on you yet, cub. In fact, things are going to work out just fine now." Just fine? He had no idea what she was talking about. He had no idea how he ended up there, with a deep pain in his chest and his friends looking at him like he may disappear at any moment. "Now just close your eyes and go back to sleep. You need more rest. All your questions will be answered later."

Sleep. That sounded like a marvelous idea. Tarrin closed his eyes, and almost immediately tumbled back into the black void of unconsciousness.

Again, he came partially out of his dreamless slumber, nearing consciousness. But this time, there was a curious difference in things. He could feel someone there with him, a bright star with no light that seemed to have appeared within his mind. At first he thought it was the Cat, but then he discounted that. He and the Cat were one now, and he no longer looked at it like it was something alien within him. This was something else, something strange and unusual.

Something beautiful.

You shouldn't be all that surprised, the voice of the Goddess resonated inside the dark vaults of his mind. If you'd only stop to feel when we speak, you'd have felt me touching you long ago.

"Goddess," he whispered inside his own mind, looking out into the blackness for the invisible force that owned that voice. But he could see nothing. "What happened to me?"

You were shot by a silver crossbow quarrel, she said in a seething voice. The Wikuni decided that you were too dangerous to leave alive when they took Keritanima.

"Took her? She's gone?"

Along with Miranda, her Vendari bodyguards, and Azakar, she said in a gentle voice. But don't worry. They are being well treated. Keritanima's father wants her back alive and unharmed. They are treating her like the Princess that she is. Only a captive one.

"Is everyone alright?"

Nobody was hurt other than you, she assured him. They did bop Dolanna on the head to keep her from using Sorcery, but it was nothing serious.

"Poor Kerri," Tarrin sighed. "That was the last thing she wanted. Is she going to try to escape?"

Keritanima is utterly furious, but she's not being foolish, my kitten, the Goddess told him. She knows now that she has to go back. Her father will never stop until he brings her back, and she doesn't want any of you to get hurt because of her. Let Keritanima deal with her situation. It was what she was meant to do in the first place.

"What does that mean?"

Only that I need her more in Wikuna than I need her at your side, she replied cryptically. Don't worry. She knows that you're going to be alright. I told her in her dreams. She may not be very religious, but she believes it. Mainly because she wants to believe it.

His poor sister. She may have known he'd been hurt when they took her, or been taken away thinking he was dead, or maybe not knowing one way or the other. She must have been going crazy.

Boy, did he feel sorry for the people on the ship carrying her.

She's calmed down a great deal since I told her, the Goddess laughed chimingly. Now she is turning her mind to the task of how to deal with her father.

"I hope she's alright. I'm worried about her."

She will be just fine, the Goddess said gently. Right now, I'm worried more about you. For a second, I didn't know if you were going to live. Had the quarrel been a finger more to the right, it would have went right through your heart. If it weren't for Triana, you wouldn't have made it.

"Triana saved me?"

That she did, the Goddess said with profound relief in her voice. She used her Druidic power to give you the strength you needed to survive the shock of the wounding, and then Dolanna helped stabilize you with Sorcery so your wounds could be cleaned and dressed, and to keep you warm and comfortable to take as much strain off your body as possible. Now it is just a matter of time and rest for you to recover. And that's what we need to talk about.

"What about it?"

Triana has found a way to satisfy both sides in your feud with Fae-da'Nar, she told him. She intends to teach you what you need to know while you're recovering. This way, she has you as a captive audience, and you don't lose any time. The time you're going to lose now is time you'd lose no matter what. You may as well do something constructive with it.

"Is it time I can't afford to lose?"

It's time I'm ordering you to lose, she said sternly. Your health is much more important to me than your mission. You're not starting out again until you're fully recovered.

That touched him, deeply, and he felt his love for his ethereal goddess grow stronger within him.

So for now, I want you to rest and recover, my kitten, she said in a voice powerful in its compassion and love. Listen to Triana, and learn what she has to teach. She's on your side now. You'll find her to be just as powerful a friend as she was an opponent.

"I will. I just wish I could talk to Kerri."

Then talk to her, she said impishly.

"But I can't. She's out of reach."

My dense little kitten, the amulets you all wear are connected together by my power and the bonds that make you siblings. I told you that once before. It has the power to allow you to speak with your sisters, no matter where they are. Just put your fingers to the amulet and will it, and she will hear your voice. But you will not do that until you are strong enough, she said adamantly. Keritanima knows that you're alright. She can wait a ride or so to hear from you.

"Alright," he said grudgingly.

Don't you dare disobey me, she warned. I'm ten times worse than Dolanna and Triana put together when it comes to nagging. My nagging, you can't tune out.

Tarrin found that strangely amusing. "Yes, Mother," he acquiesced with a slight chuckle.

Good. I have to go now, kitten. Rest and get better. I'll be watching over you.

And then her presence within him was gone, leaving him feeling strangely empty. But the feeling of her touch gave him a newfound strength, a strength he used to bring himself back into himself, to reconnect with his senses and his surroundings. He rose up to consciousness quickly and effortlessly, and opened his eyes.

He wasn't in the cabin on the ship. He was in a modestly sized bedroom. It had a large window to his left which illuminated the room, with brown curtains hanging from a rod spanned over the top of it and pulled to one side. Chairs, five of them of varying types, had been brought in to surround the bed. There was a large chest in one corner, and a small washtable in the other corner. Each side of the bed's head was flanked by a small nightstand, both holding oil lamps that were not lit. The door was to his right, and he found himself looking a tapestry of a large, grand galleon hanging on the wall facing him. He saw his pack sitting on the top of the chest, and his staff was leaning in the corner beside it. Sitting beside him, slumbering in her chair with her hand held limply in his paw, was Allia. She looked much better now than she did before. Dolanna sat in a chair on the other side, reading a book, and Triana stood with her back to him, staring out the window. She made no move to turn around, her tail slashing back and forth absently, but when she spoke, it was obvious she knew he was awake.

"Good morning, cub," she announced. "It's good to see you awake."

Allia's eyes snapped open so fast it nearly startled him, and Dolanna put down her book and smiled warmly at him. Triana turned around, her stony face softened by a gentle smile that made her beauty truly radiant.

"Triana," he said weakly. It was a challenge to talk, and the pain in his chest intensified when he tried to take in the breath to speak. Every inhale and exhale sent a ripple of pain through him. He felt weaker than a newborn baby. He found that he could barely move, and any attempt to do so sent fire through his chest and torso. The pain was severe, but it seemed somewhat dulled to him, almost as if he could register the pain, but it couldn't affect him as it should have. "Why?" He already knew, but he wanted to hear it from her lips. He knew she wouldn't lie to him.

"I told you, I haven't given up on you yet."

"You said-"

"I know. And at the time, I meant it. But it's our nature to be a bit impulsive. I'm sure you noticed that." He looked at her, his eyes agreeing. "I've been watching you, cub. You have some rough edges and a serious control problem, but I think we can salvage you."

"Triana has agreed to teach you what you need to know to make them stop attacking you, Tarrin," Dolanna said. "Right now, listening is about the only thing you can do, so it is not a bad agreement."

"That's right," she affirmed. "It won't take you long to learn. I don't have to teach you about being Were, because it looks like you've managed to get that part. It's the laws of our society you have to learn. And I intend to file off those rough edges," she said bluntly. "You're way too wild, cub. I'm going to reign that in, even if it kills you."

Tarrin didn't like the tone in her voice, so he covered it by looking to Allia. "Sister," he greeted with a weak smile.

"You must stop torturing me like this, deshida," she said with a wan smile, squeezing his paw gently. "I am too young to spend my life at your bedside."

"It's not exactly planned, deshaida," he said weakly. "You need to complain to the people who keep doing this to me."

Allia laughed nervously, then reached up and put her hand on his cheek. "Tarrin, Keritanima-"

"I know," he cut her off, squeezing her hand. "While I was asleep, the Goddess spoke to me. She told me that Kerri's going back to Wikuna."

"Is she alright?" Dolanna asked.

Tarrin nodded. "They're treating all of them well," he assured her. "She told Kerri that I'm alright, so she's not going crazy worrying about me."

"Thank the Goddess," Dolanna said in relief. "I was worried for them. Greatly worried."

"They're going to be alright."

"You speak to a Goddess?" Triana asked sharply.

"It's more like she speaks to me," he replied, leaning back in his pillow. Speaking so much was wearing him out. "She tasked me to find the Firestaff, so I guess she checks in from time to time to make sure things are going alright."

Triana gave him a penetrating look. "You? You're one of those fool Questers?"

"I do what my Goddess tells me to do," he said flintily, but the effort it required made him cough, and that sent a vicious rack of pain through him.

"Nothing wrong with that, cub, it's just not normal."

"Tarrin is not a normal person," Allia said in defense of her brother, giving Triana a direct look.

Triana stared at her, then she actually chuckled. "I'll give you that. Allia, go get some of that broth I had those cooks make. It's time to put some food in my cub. Then he can rest a while."

"Yes, Triana," Allia said obediently, then she leaned in and kissed Tarrin on the forehead before she scurried out.

"I'm sorry I missed that," he said with a wry smile.

"What?"

"You taming my sister," he told the Were-cat elder. "I didn't think it was possible."

"Allia isn't stupid enough to defy me, cub," she said with one of those blood-freezing stares. "Unlike some other people in this room."

"I guess it's just one of my rough edges," he retorted.

"One you're going to lose," she said, sitting down in the chair Allia vacated. "Although, I must admit, I found your defiance of me refreshing. Most people mewl at me like sheep. I'm not used to someone standing up to me." She reached down and took his paw, then put the pad of her palm on his forehead much like Allia had done. "I see you're recovering quickly. I hope to have you out of the bed by the end of the month. I think you'll be fully recovered in three."

"I hope I didn't scare anyone," he apologized.

"You scared all of us out of our wits," Dolanna told him with a smile. "But that you are getting better is all that matters."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Triana snorted. "Be happy I was close by. That reminds me. Faalken!" she called.

The door opened, and Faalken looked in. He gave Tarrin a quick look, then flashed him a grin that cried out his relief and elation that Tarrin was awake. "Tarrin!" he said happily. "Allia didn't tell me you were up. Feeling better?"

"Much," he replied with a weak smile.

"Faalken, go tell the innkeeper to check again."

"Yes, Triana," he said with a nod, then closed the door.

"Triana has usurped Faalken from me," Dolanna chuckled when Tarrin gave her a curious look.

"He's a good, solid man. And if you tell him I said that, I'll pull off your ears," Triana said with a strong warning look at Tarrin.

"Yes ma'am," he said in a tired voice.

"When the others get here, the Wikuni are going to be very sorry they hurt my cub," she said in a hot tone, her eyes flaring up a bit with that green radiance that marked his own when he was angry.

"Others?" Tarrin asked.

"Me and Jesmind aren't the only ones of our kind, cub," she chided. "I've called in some of the others. They're already on the way. And when they get here, there's going to be some payback."

Tarrin wasn't sure how to feel about that. He knew there were others, but he wasn't sure if he liked Were-cats running around and killing Wikuni. It was sure to start a war. It was a bit flattering to know that others would come at Triana's call and fight for him, though. It made him feel like he belonged. After all, he would do the same if Allia called him to come and help her clan against some enemy.

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked. "Killing Wikuni won't make me better."

"But it'll make me feel better," she said fiercely. "Besides, there are other people here that have been trying to find where you are, men running around with silvered swords. When we're done, there won't be anyone left in either city that would dare lift a finger against you."

"Now those I don't mind," he sighed. "I've already had one run-in too many with them. Where is Dar?"

"Sleeping," Dolanna replied. "He stayed up most of the night to sit with you."

The door opened, and Allia entered carrying a bowl of steaming broth. The smell of it, the smell of chicken and herbs, made his mouth and stomach respond to it in a most urgent manner. His belly was completely empty, and he was starving.

Triana took it from her and set it in her lap, then picked up the wooden spoon that was sitting in the broth. "Alright. Dolanna, you and Allia go get some rest. Both of you are more like the walking dead. After my cub gets some broth, he's going to sleep some more. He can talk again later."

"We will see you later, Tarrin," Dolanna said gently, patting him on the forearm. "Be well."

"Sleep well, deshida," Allia added.

Triana paw-fed him. He felt a bit silly that she was doing so, but he was too weak to hold the spoon himself. The broth tasted heavenly, but had strange zingy tastes and aftertastes that he had never tasted before. He wondered if it was medicine put in the broth. The pain had subsided to a nagging throb that, with Allia's concentration technique, he could partially block out. But not all of it. It was just too much pain. Triana's eyes regarded him as she fed him, that same stony expression making whatever she was thinking or feeling a mystery. When the bowl was empty, she set it aside and took his paw, staring into his eyes. "How is the wound?" she asked gently.

"It hurts, but Allia taught me ways to deal with pain," he replied in a sated tone. The warmth of the broth in his stomach was radiating through him in the most curiously pleasant manner, washing over the pain in his chest, and it was making him drowsy.

"Well, that's good to know," she said with a gentle smile. He looked up at her, and realized that her concern was for more than a wayward cub. Triana had genuine affection for him. Perhaps his position and plight had tugged at Triana's heartstrings, her maternal need to nurture children. He was certainly nothing but a raw-boned child to her. And he found that he liked her back. He was deeply appreciative of her help, of her support, but the simple fact that she had some faith in him had touched him. "What?" she asked, noticing his strange stare and quirky, dreamy smile.

"I love you too, mother," he said hazily, then he closed his eyes.

There had to have been something in that broth, because he just couldn't stay awake any longer.

Triana gave the injured cub a startled look, then she chuckled ruefully. The herbs in the broth had been specially prepared to make him drowsy and to dull the pain, to help speed him to sleep. His Were-cat metabolism and regenerative powers would burn their effects out of his system in a matter of moments, but they would have served their purpose of putting him to sleep by then. As they had done.

This one was sharp. She smiled and pressed her paw against his cheek gently, tenderly. "Jesmind was right about you, cub," she said, the stony mask that hid her emotions melting away, showing the mother, the nurturing woman beneath. "You are something special."

In his entire life, he didn't think he would ever meet a woman as pushy and willful as Triana.

She was amazing. Her long years and powerful personality were weapons which she used mercilessly to bully everyone else into doing exactly what she expected them to do. For her, there was only one way. Her way. And she made sure everyone around her was adhering that that singular law.

And she was so intimidating! Her height was only part of it. It was those eyes. She would give someone that penetrating stare, and they would absolutely lose every ounce of their own willpower. That was all it took. Nobody challenged her, nobody objected to her bluntly ordered demands, and nobody dared sass her. She ruled the entire inn like an imperious queen, and nobody had the guts to gainsay her. That intimidation was why. It wasn't that she was powerful, or mean, it was that when she gave someone that look, it was like he could see his own inadequacy when compared to her towering ability. She made people feel that they didn't deserve to have the right to challenge her, and there could be no form of intimdation more effective than that.

What Tarrin thought would be a battle of wills with his intimidating, newly declared bond-mother had lasted all of ten seconds, during one of his more lucid moments. That was all it took for her to utterly cow him with one of her stares. He'd never felt so wrong in his life to think he could dare question her orders, and after he got over it, the speed and thoroughness with which she overwhelmed him stung at his pride. But he wasn't about to try that again. He'd rather eat his own leg.

Over the two days that Triana carefully helped him recover, he found that she wasn't harsh. She demanded others to do her bidding, but she didn't demand more of them than she felt they were willing to give, nor did she compromise their honor or self-esteem. She was a rather considerate and thoughtful woman, once the veneer of her emotionless stare had been stripped away. She was engaging, wise, and she was very adamant in everything she did. She would fold sheets with the same aggressive attempt at perfection as she would when helping Dolanna change the dressing on his wound. Tarrin couldn't help but be impressed by her.

Two days had brought noticable progress. He was much stronger, strong enough to hold up his arms for short periods of time, but still not well enough to feed himself. The pain remained as a dull throb in him, and had not eased for the two days he had been conscious, but Allia's teachings about dealing with chronic pain allowed him to shunt it enough to be able to concentrate on his surroundings. He didn't drift in a sea of pain as Triana worried he would, but on the other hand, he couldn't put it completely out of his mind. What he got was a kind of semi-conscious lull, drifting in his own mind most of the time on the edge of consciousness, but being able to focus to where he could make conversation for reasonable periods of time. But both Triana and Dolanna frowned on him tiring himself with talk, and they kept him as inactive as possible.

It was morning. Tarrin could tell that because the sun was shining into the window, and Allia was sitting by his bed. Triana, for once, wasn't in the room when he woke up, but did enter not seconds after Tarrin opened his eyes, focused himself into consciousness, and then smiled at his sister.

And she wasn't alone. With her was another Were-cat. This one was about Tarrin's height, and she had fiery red hair just like Jesmind and the pattern green eyes that all Were-cats seemed to have. But her face was much sharper than Jesmind's, alot more angular, and her small mouth was a bit severe in its expression. She was still pretty, but her face lacked the delicate quality that made Jesmind and Triana so lovely. She had black fur, just like Tarrin, making her that much more apart from Jesmind. She was also a little more slender, not as wide-hipped, and her figure wasn't as enticing.

"I see you're up, cub," Triana said with a nod and a slight smile, her stony mask cracking for just a moment. "Tarrin, this is Rahnee. Rahnee, this is Tarrin."

"Well, I hope to see you up and about soon, cub," Rahnee said in a surprisingly husky voice. "I don't like seeing one of us on a sickbed."

About all he could do was look at her and nod in response. He had no idea what to say to her.

"I saw Shirazi about three days ago," Rahnee said to Triana. "She had Singer in tow. They should be here today. I also heard from Laren that Mist and Kimmie are also very close by. They should be here any time now."

"That's good," Triana replied to her. "Shirazi and Mist alone would have been enough, but you and Singer just makes it that much better."

"Mist should have left Kimmie behind," Rahnee snorted. "The girl is an embarassment."

"She was turned, Rahnee, just like Tarrin. You know they're always a bit different from the rest of us."

"Hmph," Rahnee snorted.

"Was Laren coming this way?"

"He probably will. With so many females gathered in one place, he'll probably decide to come see if he can't make us compete over him."

Triana glanced at Tarrin, who was staring at the pair of female Were-cats. "Anyone else coming that you know about?"

"Not that I know about, but there's bound to be some stragglers as word gets deeper into the Heartwood," she replied. "It's not often we can gather and welcome a new male. That's worth the travelling time."

"I hope they get here faster. Come on, I'll get the innkeeper to give you some food, and we'll discuss what needs to be done."

"How do you feel?" Allia asked gently after the two left, patting the back of his paw.

"A little better," he replied. "When did she get here?"

"I guess just now," she replied. "I haven't seen her before."

"What did Triana mean about needing done?"

"Triana is very upset with the Wikuni," Allia said in a stiff voice. "She's decided to chase them out of these two cities, by any means necessary. She's calling in your kin to take care of that."

"Huh," he said. "She meant it. Well, I hope it doesn't backfire on her."

"She doesn't seem the kind of woman that gives up on avenging the wronged," Allia said speculatively. "She's very, willful, and the Wikuni really made her mad." Allia leaned back a bit in the chair. "I think I'm glad she's decided to be mad at someone else."

Tarrin looked at her and almost laughed, but he caught himself. With a hole in his chest, laughing would be excruciating.

"She's ruthless, my brother," Allia told him. "She fully intends to kill any Wikuni stupid enough to remain in the city, but she's already declared all those that took part in the attack on us dead. Any Wikuni in a military uniform is marked." She looked at him. "Anyone with a silver sword is dead, as is anyone in his company. She knows about those men, my brother, and that they hire local cutthroats to aid them. And since she doesn't know which cutthroats are working for our enemies and which aren't, she's ordered all of them killed or chased out."

"Wow," he breathed after a moment. Triana didn't play around. "She's, thorough."

"Systematic," Allia agreed. "My people could take lessons from her on the proper way to exact revenge."

The door opened again, and Triana entered with Dar and Dolanna. Faalken stood outside the door, nodding to them as they passed, serving them as a protector of the vulnerable Were-cat in his private sanctum. Tarrin appreciated the long hours Faalken must have spent standing at the door, staring at a wall and keeping him safe. Dolanna was carrying an armful of white cloth, the bandages they used around his chest. "Things are looking up, cub," Triana said. "Rahnee just arrived, and if we're lucky, Mist and Kimmie will be here by sunset. I'll feel better with some kin around you to help protect you."

"You don't have to go out of your way for me, Triana," he said mildly.

"Perhaps, but it's a mother's privilege to go out of her way," she said with a direct stare at him.

"I'm not really your child."

"As far as I'm concerned you are," she said flatly, challenging him with her gaze. "I say you're my cub, and that makes you my cub. Do you want to argue about it?"

"N-No," he said meekly.

"Good. I hate beating sense into people when I can avoid it. Now, we're going to change your bandages. Dar here is going to see how we do it, so he can help in case Dolanna isn't here to do it with me."

"Why do you need Dar?"

"I use Sorcery to ensure the wound does not open while we remove the bandages, dear one," Dolanna explained. "With luck, it will not be needed in a few days. Your injury has already showed marked signs of healing."

"We heal fast, Dolanna," Triana told her. "Even silver wounds heal faster than a human would heal from a similar injury. A wound like that would put a human in bed for a month. Tarrin should be out of it in ten days."

"Let us prepare," Dolanna said.

The changing of his bandages was a remarkably quick affair. It was the first time he'd been awake for it. Dolanna used Sorcery to affect the bandages, to peel the dried blood in them off of the wound in such a way that didn't make it begin bleeding again. She used a weave of water, strangely enough, infusing the dried blood with water to soften the scabs that held the bandage against the wound, then separating them gently with another weave of air. After it was pulled away, he got his first look at the wound. It didn't look that bad. It was nothing but a scabbed hole on the left side of his chest, through the pectoral muscle, that oozed tiny amounts of blood around its edges. But what made it bad was the fact that it reached deeply inside him. Triana put her paw behind his neck, on his upper back, and then he felt Dolanna weave together another weave consisting mainly of air, felt it wrap around him gently, yet preventing him from moving his back. Triana then pulled gently against his neck and upper back, lifting his chest and torso off the bed. The move caused the wound to shiver with pain, but it wasn't anything that he couldn't endure. While she held him up, Dar and Dolanna quickly and carefully wrapped the bandages around his chest, then tied it. When that was done, Triana laid him back down. The sharp pains from being moved subsided, leaving him feeling strangely weak and tired.

"And that is that," Triana announced as she pulled the covers back up over his torso. "Do you feel alright?"

"It hurt some, but I'm alright," he assured her in a tired voice.

"Let's get you some broth, and then you can rest a while," Triana announced. "And get ready. Tomorrow, we're going to start your education. You'll be strong enough to pay attention then."

"I can do it now."

"You're not ready yet," she told him. "I can see right through you, cub. It's all you can do to keep your eyes open, and you haven't been awake more than ten minutes. You'd last about five minutes if I started droning on about obscure laws. You may think you're resting, but in your condition, thinking rationally and talking take alot of effort."

He couldn't refute that. He was tiring himself out, and them changing the bandages hadn't helped. Fighting against the pain was strangely exhausting, and it was exacerbated by his attempts to remain coherent.

"You'll have some broth, then you'll sleep. If you're feeling better tonight, I'll read for you." She looked at Allia. "Go get us some broth, Allia. And make sure the innkeeper understands that it annoys me when he doesn't keep it hot."

"Yes, Triana," she said obediently, squeezing Tarrin's paw in farewell before scurrying off to do the elder Were-cat's bidding.

"Dolanna, you can take care of Tarrin for a while. I have to talk to Rahnee. I'll be back in a while, cub. You take it easy, and do what Dolanna tells you to do."

"I will make sure of that," Dolanna told her, sitting down by Tarrin's head and laying a gentle hand on his forearm. Tarrin noticed for the first time that the manacles were not on his wrists. He didn't have the energy to worry about it, though. He'd find out what happened to them later. Triana walked out without another word, and Faalken silently closed the door after giving Tarrin a quirky grin.

"She shouldn't talk to you like that," Tarrin said weakly. "It's disrespectful."

"Dear one, that she will trust me with you is saying a great deal for what she thinks of me," Dolanna said with a warm smile. "Triana is fiercely protective of you. That is why she has had Faalken guard the door. Today is the first time she has left the room since we brought you here."

"I know, but still-"

"Hush, dear one," she said quietly, patting his arm. "Do not waste energy on things you cannot change."

He leaned his head back against the pillow a bit more, feeling his cat ears bend against the pillow. He really didn't have any energy to waste. He had never been wounded so badly before, and he decided that, even if there wasn't any pain involved, it still was nothing he ever wanted to go through again. When it exhausted him just to speak, it told him how weak he really was.

Allia returned with the broth, and Dolanna carefully fed it to him. It chafed at him that they had to treat him like a baby, but he wouldn't be able to hold onto the spoon. The broth was still rich and very tasty, and it managed to satisfy his hunger. It also had that same pain-easing effect, and made him distinctly sleepy.

It was a combination that his weaked body just couldn't ignore. He drifted off to sleep mere moments after Dolanna set the empty bowl on the table.

For some reason, Tarrin was worried about this.

Triana turned a wooden chair around and then sat down on it, folding her arms on the chair's back and leaning against it. Her tail slid back and forth behind her rhythmically, and she looked right at him with one of those stares, her expression sober and assessing.

That morning, she and Dolanna had propped him up into a semi-upright position with several thick, soft pillows. Strangely enough, the change in position had eased the pain a bit, though getting into that position was something that he didn't exactly enjoy. He did like being able to look at people from a viewpoint other than below, and he had gotten very tired of looking up at the beamed ceiling. He felt much stronger than he had the day before, both stronger and in less pain. He found that he could move his arms relatively well, and could shift himself without jagged lances of pain lashing at him. It still hurt, but the pain was duller than before. Just as Triana predicted, he was healing much more quickly than he expected. Triana just kept staring at him. He had no idea what she wanted, and it was making him uneasy. Almost afraid.

Then she reached over to the nightstand and pulled back an object. It was one of the heavy steel manacles he wore. She looked at it, studying the deep scratches and pits on it, where he had used them like shields to parry weapons. "For some reason," she finally said, "I think these sum up everything there is about you, cub."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you've been abused," she said bluntly. "I've taken the time while you were asleep to have Dolanna tell me about you. Between what I've heard and what I've felt myself, I'm shocked that you're still sane."

"Felt?"

"I have your bond, cub," she said bluntly. "I took it from Jesmind when I decided to come get you. It lets me know it when you're in pain, and it lets me feel it when you experience powerful emotion. It's the only reason I gave you another chance. If I hadn't had an idea of what you were feeling, I'd have killed you in Dayise." She lowered the manacle and stared at him. "What you are now makes alot more sense now that I know how you got here. If I'd have known, I'd have approached you differently in Den Gauche."

He had no idea what to say to that. He just stared at her uncertainly, a paw delicately over the wound in his chest.

"But that's water under the bridge now," she said. "This," she started, holding the manacle up again, "is what they made of you. It's not what you were meant to be."

"I don't understand."

"Probably not," she agreed. "All that you really need to understand is that I know what's happened to you. I'm not very happy about it," she said with a low growl. "But it's time to start working on the future." She tossed the manacle back onto the nightstand absently. He didn't see it land, but he heard it clink a couple of times as it bounced to a stop. " Fae-da'Nar is an ancient society, cub," she began in a resonant voice, putting her chin on her clasped paws and staring at him as she spoke. "It goes back thousands of years. We've survived this long so close to the humans because we have laws. Those are the laws that you have to learn, and what's more important, they're laws that you have to obey. There's no room for breaking these laws. If you break them once, you are warned. If you break them twice, you are dead. Because of what you've already done, there will be no warnings," she said ominously. "If you show any sign that you're not capable of adhering to our law, they will kill you without hesitation. And there's nothing I can do about it. The laws we have protect all of us, and if sacrificing you keeps the rest of us alive, then so be it.

"I'm going to teach you two things, cub," she continued. "The laws of Fae-da'Nar, and the customs of the other woodland races, what some of us call Woodkin. The laws you will learn today. The customs will take much longer. But in their own way, the customs I'm going to teach you are much more important than the laws. We all obey the laws, but you'll find that those laws don't protect us from one another. They only deal with keeping our kind from ending up on the ends of human pitchforks. If you anger too many other Woodkin, they'll come after you, and you'll have to fend them off by yourself. So it's very important that you understand the customs of the others, so you don't offend them too much." She snorted. "They accuse us of being short-tempered, but you've never seen a Centaur when you come into his range unannounced. They're the ones you have to be the most careful around, cub. Centaurs can't stand Were-cats, and they're more than willing to try to kill us over even the most minor or accidental insult."

She scratched her neck absently, then leaned on her paws again. "You're entering a much different society, cub, one that you're probably not going to like," she warned. "The rest of Fae-da'Nar doesn't like us. Some, like the Centaurs, at least have the guts to be open about it. You're going to face slights and insults, scorn and aggravation. But in the interests of Woodkin harmony, I suggest you let them pass. Especially you. You're a wild card, cub, ferocious, unpredictable, and very feral. Some of the Woodkin object to my taking you in. They'd rather have you killed. And I suppose if what happened at Den Gauche was pinned on you, I'd be doing it. But since nobody knows what really happened but us, I'm willing to let that slide."

"Why do you put up with it?"

"I don't," she said flatly. "I'm too old to be talked down to. You, on the other hand, had better be ready to either take it, or show them that you're not about to take it. How you decide to handle it is up to you." She gave him a slight smile. "I know you, cub. You'll cram the first insult you hear down the throat of whoever said it. I won't object if you do, but understand that that's how you make enemies. If you don't mind enemies, then be my guest. You'll be a grown cub after I release you, mature enough to make your own decisions.

"Now then, these are the four rules that we all live by, cub," she said seriously.

"Four? That's all?"

"That's all," she said with a smile.

"Why didn't Jesmind just tell them to me so this would never have happened?"

"Just knowing them isn't enough, cub. You have to be accepted into Fae-da'Nar. That's what takes time. They prefer to watch and observe over a long period of time, so they're sure of the hopeful's stability. Especially when it comes to turned Were-kin. For those born into it, it's generally an automatic thing, coming about on the official age of adulthood. But special cases, like you, require careful observation before they consent. But we're drifting off the point here, cub, so listen up.

"The First Law is the most important. Simply put, we never give the humans reason to fear us. That means we don't go on rampages, we don't kill unless in self defense or defense of life, we don't terrorize villages and steal children, and we don't brutalize people. It's a broad law, but it sums up the very essence of our objective. And that objective is to co-exist with the humans peacefully. They live in their cities, we live in what they call the Frontier, and everyone's happy. But when we do come out, it's important that we leave a good impression, when they know what they're dealing with at all. Since you're from Aldreth, you probably have an understanding of what that means."

Tarrin nodded. Sometimes, people would just walk out of the Frontier, and they would trade with the villagers for supplies. They were always quiet, polite, and they bargained fairly. They never made trouble. Because of that, the village welcomed them despite the fact that they were so mysterious. Villagers always whispered about them after they left, and there were a few wild stories that always circulated, but on the whole, those mysterious strangers were well received. Tarrin had tried to follow them several times as they disappeared back into the Frontier, which was against village law, but he could never stay on their trails for more than a couple of longspans.

Triana chuckled. "Some of them remember you, cub," she winked. "From what I understand, you used to try to follow them back into the forest after they left Aldreth. They would watch you and see what you did."

Tarrin was a bit startled that she would know that. "Well, I guess I used to do that," he admitted. "I was just curious. I was only a kid."

"They knew that. I think that's what made them watch you." She leaned forward a bit more. "I heard that you used to wander around the Frontier by yourself too. That's pretty brave for a kid. They used to watch you then, too, and make sure you didn't wander into trouble. I think that may be the only reason some of them aren't pushing me to kill you as much as others. I think they're the ones that have been to Aldreth, and may remember you and the Kaels. Since your farm was in Frontier land, they would watch you from time to time. Parents would bring cubs there so they could observe humans in their natural surroundings."

It sounded bizarre to hear her talk about humans like animals. But then again, Fae-da'Nar probably did see humans as the inhabitants of that other wilderness.

"Anyway, the Second Law is also simple and to the point. We don't interfere in human society. Some of us live in human lands, but they don't meddle. They just live there. We don't take positions of importance, we don't get involved in human politics, and we don't draw attention to ourselves. Think of Haley. He lives in Dayise. Alot of people know him, but to them, he's just an innkeeper. He keeps to himself, doesn't meddle with city politics, and he keeps what he is a secret. Because of that, they accept him, even though they don't know what he is.

"The Third Law deals with what we call the Shunned Races. Those are Woodkin and magical races, what some call 'monsters', who prey on humankind. Who don't follow the laws of Fae-da'Nar. Simply put, we oppose them, but we don't actively hunt them down. If they start preying on humans, we put a stop to it, because it damages our reputation. But until they do that, we leave them alone."

"Then why would they hunt me down?" he asked quietly. "I'd be Shunned if I didn't accept Fae-da'Nar."

"No. If you were a Lamia or a Vampire, then you'd be Shunned. But you're a Were-cat, and Were-cats are part of Fae-da'Nar. If you are not part of Fae-da'Nar and you're one of the races that obey our laws, that makes you a Rogue. There's a difference."

"Oh."

"Nice try anyway," she grinned. "The Fourth Law states that we obey the Druids. In our society, Druids are something like the nobility, though they never abuse their position. Druids keep us in communication with one another, they are our healers, our protectors, and our pillars of support. They are the ones we turn to when we need help, and they are the ones that all of Fae-da'Nar will trust explicitely. An extension of that law is that a Druid's chosen ground is holy, and the law of peace is paramount. That means that even though the Woodkin do occasionally fight amongst themselves, nobody fights on a Druid's chosen ground."

"What is chosen ground?"

"Where the Druid lives," she answered. "His home. Since all types of Woodkin will visit a Druid, even enemies, that law exists to prevent fighting on the Druid's front doorstep. It's also the main reason you're going to learn the customs all of your cousins. We use those customs when we encounter each other on Druid's ground."

"Oh. So they have to obey you? You're a Druid."

"They obey me, but it's not because I'm a Druid," she said with a wink. "Non-human Druids don't count, because some of us have Druidic talent. Out here, I'm not a Druid, I'm a Were-cat. But on my home range, it's another story. When I'm on my chosen ground, then the law of peace is still in effect. Because I'm a Druid on chosen ground."

"I guess that makes sense."

"I'm so glad you understand it. Anyway, that's it. That's the law we live by. It may sound simple, but once you get some exposure to our society, you'll understand that they were kept simple to deal with a very wide range of different races. If they got complicated, they wouldn't work. The rest of what I'll teach you is custom and practice," she said. "How to know when you're in someone else's territory, the marks and symbols we use out in the forest, the customs and society of the other Woodkin races. Things like that. You can get by just by knowing the law, but you can't function if you know what's going on. But that can wait for later," she said with a slight smile. "Right now, you need some food. Real food this time. I think you're ready for something solid. I had the innkeeper track down some veal. It should be soft enough for you to manage, and easy enough on your system to keep you from getting sick."

The idea of solid food did make his mouth water, but on the other hand, the broth she'd been giving him itself wasn't all that bad, and it had been filling him up. He would enjoy some meat, but the broth hadn't been a disappointment.

"Allia's relieving Faalken at the door, so I'll send in Dar to keep you company," she said. "I have to talk to Rahnee."

"Are you still going to punish the Wikuni?"

"Going to? I've already started," she said harshly, standing up. "Shirazi and Singer got here while you were asleep. I'll introduce you to them when they come back. Shirazi is perfect for something like this. The woman thinks of nothing other than the hunt. She'll hunt down anyone even remotely connected to the attack on you, and then punish them for it." She set the chair against the wall with quick and precise movements. "Mist should be here soon too. She's someone I definitely want you to meet."

"Why?"

She looked right at him, giving him that stare. "Because she is what you might become," she said seriously. "You're feral, cub. All of us are a little feral, it's part of what makes us what we are, but you're very feral. Mist… well, Mist is truly feral. I want you to see what being truly feral means. I want you to see it, and decide if that's how you want to live the rest of your life."

The way she said it worried him. He didn't respond, mainly because he couldn't think of anything to say to her. She still intimidated him. It made him wonder at this Mist. He remembered Haley mention her, so she had to be rather notorious. Or infamous. In his own way, he did want to see her, to talk to her. He wanted to see if she was really as bad as they hinted, or if she was simply misunderstood.

"Now, you lay there and think about the laws. If you can't recite them back to me when I bring your dinner, you'll have to sit there and stare at it for an hour before I give it to you. I'll also have Dar come in and keep you company after you eat, so I can tend to business." She leaned over him, lowered down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'll be back soon," she promised, giving him a warm smile.

"I'll be here," he said lightly. "Unless I decide to go dancing, that is."

Triana chuckled. "At least you're keeping your sense of humor," she noticed as she opened the door.

He got his chance to meet Mist that afternoon.

She even looked wild. She was rather short for a Were-cat, but her body was powerfully developed. Where the female Were-cats he'd seen were lithe and feminine in form, Mist had powerful muscle. Her shoulders had a definite wideness to them, and her body was more stocky than slender. But she had a feminine figure, with a rather busty chest and wide hips, though she was holding herself very stiffly. Her fur was jet black, like his, but her hair was also black. And for the first time, he saw a Were-cat with short hair. Mist's hair was wild and unkempt, like other Were-cat females, but it didn't extend much past her shoulders. It trailed down the back of every other Were-cat he'd seen, including himself. Her clothes added to her wild demeanor, an old shirt that had more holes in it than continuous material, missing its left sleeve and the collar torn, leaving her left shoulder and a good deal of her left breast bare, and a pair of leather leggings that showed more skin than leather. But it wasn't her shape, or form, or appearance that made her look so untamed. It was her face.

She was very attractive, he decided. A wide-cheeked face with a strong, slightly squared jaw, but a very tight expression marred her appearance somewhat. More handsome than beautiful, but still attractive. It was her eyes. They were Were-cat eyes, green with vertically slitted pupils, but inside them was a frightening animalistic quality. When she looked at someone, it was like she was looking at a mouse. Her eyes were fierce, they were powerful, and they seemed to define her entire being.

His first real understanding of her came when she entered the room with Triana. Dar and Allia were with him, playing King's Crown, but that didn't last long. She looked at the pair, and she growled at them. Everything in her stance screamed her wariness, almost her fear, of the pair. She absolutely would not tolerate them being in her presence. Her eyes ignited from within with that greenish aura that marked an angry Were-cat, and it only took one look from Triana to have both of them quickly and quietly leave the room. Tarrin didn't trust strangers. Mist couldn't stand them. Triana put a paw on Mist's shoulder, and the wild Were-cat shuddered at it visibly. But when she looked back, that reflexive aversion to the touch abated, and she settled beneath Triana's palm.

"Tarrin, I'd like you to meet Mist. Mist, this is my new cub, Tarrin."

Her entire attitude shifted, like water pouring from a glass. Her stiff posture relaxed once Allia and Dar were out of the door, and the fierce look on her face softened considerably. But that look in her eyes did not fade away. Even Tarrin, one of her own kind, was still partially suspect. He realized with some surprise that Mist didn't really trust anyone. She tolerated him because he was her kind, the same way that he tolerated strangers. "Tarrin," she said in a contralto voice, a voice that was harsh and controlled. Tarrin looked over her shoulder, to Triana, and he saw that she was staring at him very deliberately. She knew that he had seen the truth in Mist, and she was watching his reaction to it.

His reaction was almost horrified. She mistrusted almost everyone. To her, being in the middle of the city was like being surrounded by potential enemies, and she could not bring herself to relax. She was very much like an animal, a caged animal that had been beaten once too often, and now shied away from everyone who approached it. Tarrin had felt alone from time to time before, but Mist was truly alone, because she could not bring herself to trust another. His heart went out for her. It must have been horrible to be so alone, even when surrounded by people who wanted to befriend her.

But he managed to keep his reaction to her out of his eyes, out of his scent. He gave her a steady, calm look, just a hint of a smile, as if she were no different than any other Were-cat. "It's nice to meet you, Mist," he said with warmth in his voice.

"I appreciate your help, Mist," Triana said behind her. "I know how hard it is for you to come into civilization."

"Thank Kimmie for that," she said brusquely to Triana. "I didn't want to come."

"All the same, I still appreciate it," she maintained. She opened the door again. "Kimmie!" she barked into the hallway.

After a few seconds, another Were-cat appeared, and this one was the most unusual of all. She was wearing a dress. A brown peasant dress of sturdy wool, with a white blouse under the bodice that extended linen sleeves down to hide everything but her paws. Kimmie was about half a head shorter than Tarrin, about halfway between Tarrin and Mist in height. She had brown hair and reddish fur with brown stripes in it. Tabby fur. She was rather pretty, in a youthful way, and she didn't look much more than seventeen. But what made Kimmie different from all the others was the fact that she had blue eyes. Those blue eyes looked at Tarrin, and she gave him a brilliant smile. The fangs marred it, reminded him that she wasn't human.

Was this why Rahnee thought she was an embarassment? Because she liked to wear dresses?

"Kimmie, this is Tarrin. Tarrin, this is Kimmie."

"Hi," she said sweetly from the doorway, in a Torian accent. "It's good to see you're alright. How do you feel?"

"I'm alright," he replied. "Triana says I'll be able to get out of bed soon."

"That's good." She looked at Mist. "Mist, Shirazi wants to talk to you. Probably about where to look next."

"Alright," Mist said in her tightly controlled voice. Then she walked out without another word. Kimmie just gave him another smile, then rushed off after her. Triana closed the door, then turned around and leaned against it, staring at him intently.

"Is Kimmie Mist's daughter?"

"She used to be," she replied. "Kimmie was turned, but nobody knows who did it to her. Mist accepted her as a bond-child. That was about a hundred years ago or so." That startled him. Kimmie barely looked like an adult, let alone be over a hundred years old. "Kimmie is the only one that Mist comes close to trusting, and that's not saying very much. She doesn't even completely trust her own bond-child."

"It's awful. What did that to her?"

"Humans," she replied. "She was attacked by a Were hunter in what's now the Free Duchy of Shara. He wounded her very badly, and the human villagers there tortured her after he left her for dead, because they thought she was a witch. She literally pulled herself out of a bonfire when they tried to burn her at the stake. It took her months to recover. We weren't sure if she was going to make it or not, and after she healed, she didn't speak to anyone. She didn't speak for over fifty years. To anyone. What little ground she's regained since then is due in large part to Kimmie."

Tarrin was shocked. How could people be so cruel? The ordeal had scarred the diminutive Were-cat, scarred her deeply. It was no wonder she was feral! But her plight made him recall his own trials, his own ordeals. He hadn't suffered something quite that severe, but looking back over what he had went through over the last months, he too couldn't be all that surprised that he too had turned hard. Had become feral.

And that was how he could be. Distrustful of absolutely everyone, even his own family. Living out his entire life in fear of others, to live isolated from the world by his own distrust. It was a horrifying thought.

Triana came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his paw. "That's what could happen to you, my cub," she said in a gentle voice. "I know you've been through a great deal, but you can't let it consume you like it has Mist. You have to find a balance within yourself and cling to it. I don't expect you to just lose your feral nature. That would be silly of me. You've suffered too much to ever be able to let it go. I just don't want you to slip any further. As you just saw, you can sink deeper."

He looked at the door, his heart filled with compassion for the forlorn Were-cat. He had to do something to help her. It was horrible for her to live such a lonely life, and he couldn't stand the idea of leaving her be without at least trying.

"I'll go find Allia and Dar," she said. "I have to go make sure our kin are doing things the way I want them done. Just rest, my cub. And don't worry at it too much. I'll see you in a while."

She left him, and he stared at the door for a long moment, stared at it in the silence of his room. He had alot to think about.

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