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Ya’greers were very intelligent animals—though they couldn’t talk, they could have a level of understanding equivalent to a twelve-year old child. Bard knew his pet would comprehend how important it was not to frighten or hurt the girl in his arms when he emphasized that she was now part of their family unit.
Why in the Seven Hells are you making her part of the “pack” when she’s only going to be here long enough to take that damn translation pill and then it’s back to the Med Center and them someplace else for good? a little voice demanded inside his head.
Bard didn’t have an answer for that. He just knew it was important that the little female not be any more frightened or traumatized than she already had been.
“All right now,” he said to Tiny. “I’m going to sit down and I want you to lay at my feet so she can look at you. Don’t sniff her until I say so—she might be frightened of your size.”
The Ya’greer nodded his long, shaggy head once—he looked a little like a very large, long-haired wolf with a navy-blue coat that shaded to silver at the ears and paws. He went to lie obediently beside the large loveseat in front of the fireplace. Putting his head on his paws, he looked up and whined softly, letting Bard know he understood and would obey.
“Good boy,” Bard told him. Carefully, he carried Makenna over to the couch and sat down with her still in his lap. She was still trembling against him but when she saw that Tiny was no longer jumping around and barking his deep, rouf, rouf, rouf sound, she raised her head from Bard’s chest and looked carefully around.
“There you go, baby girl. You see, it’s all right,” Bard said encouragingly. “Look now, Tiny has promised to be good. He won’t hurt you—he was just excited to see me come home.”
He nodded down at the huge, shaggy Ya’greer, who was doing his level best to make himself small on the floor at his feet. Tiny looked up at the girl, his eyes hopeful, and whined very softly deep in his throat.
“Oh!” Makenna said and then let out a stream of unintelligible language again as she looked down at the Ya’greer.
Bard couldn’t help being frustrated that he still hadn’t picked up a bit of what she was saying. Kindred were generally naturally talented at learning new languages—it was part of their DNA—and he was no exception. But he’d been hearing her native tongue for over an hour now with no clue as to what any of it meant.
Still, he hadn’t exactly had time to focus on her language, he told himself. And soon enough, he would get her to take the translation pill. But for now, they would have to make do until he could earn her trust.
“He’s a Ya’greer,” he said, pointing at Tiny. “His name is Tiny.”
Makenna looked at him with raised eyebrows and he wondered again about the bruise on her high cheekbone. He wished he could heal it for her, the way a Blood Kindred could have. But Beast Kindred like himself had no fangs to produce healing essence like Blood Kindred did.
“Ti-nee?” Makenna asked with a rising inflection, indicating a question.
Bard nodded. He pointed to himself and said, “Bard.” Then he pointed to her and said, “Makenna.” Lastly, he pointed at the Ya’greer and repeated, “Tiny.”
“Ti-ny,” she repeated more firmly. “Tiny.”
Tiny’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name and he whined softly again.
“All right, I know you want to meet her, but she’s still scared,” Bard told his pet. “Tell you what, raise your head and we’ll see how she reacts.”
Obediently, the huge Ya’greer raised his shaggy head. Bard held out his left hand and the big animal insinuated his head under it, begging to be petted.
“All right, now Tiny. All right,” Bard murmured, stroking his pet’s head. Really a Ya’greer was more than a pet—it was a companion animal and Bard was anxious that his companion would get along with the new addition to their household, however briefly Makenna might stay with them.
But as it turned out, he didn’t have to worry. Once Makenna saw him stroking the big Ya’greer’s head, she put out a hand too, as though she also wanted to pet Tiny.
“Tiny?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows and looking uncertainly at Bard and he understood that she was asking him if it was safe.
“Yes, you can pet him,” he said, nodding firmly. “Tiny is safe,” he added, since that seemed to be a word she knew in Standard.
“Safe,” she whispered and put out her small hand to pet the huge, shaggy blue head.
Tiny seemed to like her at once. Bard could feel the big Ya’greer trembling with eagerness and he knew that Tiny was just about dying to lick her hand and make her acquaintance. Still, he held himself back, waiting until Bard gave the word.
