Page 118 of The Hunter

“And you”—Tas nudged Telok’s foreleg with his own—“have claimed your mate, have you not?”

Telok’s head began turning to look over his shoulder, but he stopped himself before he could see the den. If he looked, he feared he would go back, if only to reassure himself that she was still there, still safe.

“I have,” he replied, returning his gaze to Tas. “Lacey is mine. I am hers.”

“If that is not worthy of celebration, nothing is.”

“I will not celebrate our mating bond without her.”

Tas’s shoulders shook with a chitter. “I would not dare ask that of you. But what of the rest? Our return from the hunt has brought our Nedrayas out for the evening gathering earlier than usual, and I know many would like to give thanks to the hunter who is the equal of three kurghests.”

“I do not need thanks.”

“They would give it all the same,” Tas said with a very human shrug. “And I am determined to see you relax at least once before we part ways, Telok.”

Telok chittered, but his foreleg scraped the floor, and his fingers flexed, digging his claws into his palms. He had no desire to be in a crowd, nor to receive thanks and praise for what he’d done today. He hadn’t fought those beasts for any of the winddancers. He’d battled in that frenzy for Lacey, and Lacey alone.

But…he needed to distract himself from his thoughts of her, or else he would drive himself mad with helplessness.

Letting out a huff, he nodded and stepped around Tas. The winddancer trilled and hurriedly fell into stride beside Telok. They walked through Tovuunshai together. Telok tried to shift his focus to everything outside himself, to the village’s sights, smells, and sounds, to the warm greetings and bright eyes of the winddancers he passed on the way, to the mighty trees and vibrant leaves.

Despite his efforts, his mind continued circling back to one thought—was Lacey truly his? He’d claimed her in the vrix fashion, had left his mark upon her, but it was not so simple with humans. Had she truly accepted him? Did she truly see him as hers?

He knew she cared about him, knew it in the way she’d tended his wounds in the shower, but that hadn’t stopped her from turning him away afterward.

Perhaps he could give her a mating gift to show his sincerity?

Telok had hunted for Lacey, had fought for her, had protected her, but those were things he’d also done for the rest of their tribe. He needed to do something more. Ketahn and Rekosh had woven intricate silk wedding dresses for their mates, and Urkot had found and polished many crystals and stones for his. But what could Telok make? All his skill for shaping lay in practical items for survival. Weapons, containers, shelters, nothing befitting his beautiful female.

Should he give her a gift, or perform a gesture motivated by his caring for her? Something…what was the word the humans used? Romantic?

When he and Tas reached the central platform, it was abuzz with enthusiastic conversation. Though no food had been set out yet, the platform was easily as crowded as it had been during last night’s meal. The rest of the hunting party was scattered throughout the gathering, thornskulls and winddancers talking like old friends. Cole and Sophia reclined with Shir on some cushions, playing with her broodlings. Ayali sat upon a nest of cushions about ten segments away, carefully refastening the head of her spear with new thread. Ess and Zesh sat in front of her. With the way her shoulders shook, Telok guessed she was chittering at whatever the two males were saying to her.

The largest concentration of vrix was toward the far end of the platform, where, just beyond the edge, the kurghest carcasses had been hung from a higher branch. All three swayed and rotated slowly in the breeze.

The ember inside Telok heated further.

Those beasts had tried to kill his mate. He could not kill them again…but there were others to hunt. Others that had killed mates, brothers and sisters, parents, friends. Others that had taken from the winddancers.

Garahk stood near the center of the platform, where he towered over the winddancers clustered around him. He held a stringed instrument that looked ridiculously small in his big hands, with a winddancer instructing him how to play. The others in the group held instruments of their own, which they plucked and strummed as though feeling out the sounds and seeking harmony. Two sat with drums, tapping out fleeting, varying beats. Soon enough, there would likely be lively music uplifting these already cheerful vrix.

“Come, Telok,” Tas said, leading him toward Shir and the humans.

Had the platform been clear, Telok might’ve crossed that distance in a matter of a few heartbeats. But with every step came recognition from a winddancer, came another cheer or thanks, another knuckle-to-headcrest salute.

By the time they reached their destination, he was more than ready to leave. Gatherings like this were more tiring than hunts that lasted for days.

Tas sat next to Shir. Telok lowered himself beside them, directly across from Cole, who watched him warily with narrowed eyes. Only after he was settled did Telok realize that Shir and Tas’s three little broodlings were sitting around Cole, staring at Telok with their own eyes slitted in mimicry of the human.

“Our brood,” Shir said with a trill. “Shir’Tas Virai, Shir’Tas Lei, and Shir’Tas Tahl.”

The little ones were cute. They had large, bright eyes, and their fur looked fine and fluffy, softening their features. Virai and Lei were female, with hides the same dark gray as their mother’s and blue eyes like their sire’s, while their broodbrother, Tahl, was paler gray with the colors and patterns on his hindquarters only beginning to reveal themselves. It was strange to see three-year-old broodlings so tiny, but the winddancers were all small.

If Telok and Lacey were to have broodlings, would they be tiny like these? Would they be as cute?

More so. They would be the only things in any world that could rival their mother’s beauty.

Telok eased little as the group conversed, speaking only when he was directly addressed. His eyes kept roving, his attention ever shifting, and restlessness crackled through his limbs.