@Rhi-Rhi It was easy to say that he was tired of the desert. It was maddening to view the sand in all its expansive entirety, seemingly endless with ages buried underneath it. There was no mercy in this place. The sand took what it wanted, including him if he let it.
Atalier frowned in the distance before him, continuing his trek off the beaten path. The caravan routes were only so useful in traversing the wider expanses of desert. For now, however, he wandered away from sand and down toward the canyon ridges that resided far far west of Essyrn into a place uncharted by most maps.
It was just as well that he would die out here without ever finding what he sought. He knew if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. But a faint glimmer of hope clung to the promise of his employer. They knew a way to break him from his curse, with an arcane understanding of djinn and their vile magic. He could only hope it was true. He was not that much a fool as to buy into that alone. He knew there was a price to be had. In exchange for his help they wanted something just as valuable.
A pelt more majestic than the world had ever seen. A lion's pelt, but to be more specific, a certain breed of lion that was larger and stronger than those found in the wild. They knew the place, the path to get there, but would rely on him to get it. It sounded easy enough, kill one of them, skin the pelt, and take it back.
Atalier found the badlands easily enough, hidden far from view from the main route, within a canyon that allowed excellent coverage. How even his employer found it was beyond him. He observed the redrock stone, towered high above him as he ventured down, avoiding stepping on any poisonous lizards that hissed at his passing.
He pulled the face covering from his cowl, looking up around him, as he was now wandering the deep shadows in the canyon's labyrinthine ridge. Wind swept back his cowl and sent his hair into his face. He wiped a hand across his brow, going deeper into the shadows.
Until a growl caught his attention.
Atalier stilled himself.
Shit. Couldn't this have been after I ate something? Not even breakfast yet! he inwardly griped. He turned slowly, seeing nothing. "Fuck," he muttered, half irritated that his nerves were getting the better of him. "You should know better, Tal."
That was until he heard a loud growl again, this time much closer than before. And something heavy soon landing on his back, knocking him down to the floor.
That something was a lion.
Six hundred pounds of healthy lion, and a male from the looks of it, its mane thick and full. And all that weight landed squarely on his back as it slammed him into the sand with a snarl, wicked claws pricking through his clothes--yet strangely not piercing his skin too deeply.
Yet.
The lion pinned him with its massive front paws and lowered its large head down next to his to sniff him, nostrils flaring and teeth bared, teeth set in a mouth large enough to tear his face off in one good chomp. It huffed once or twice, stirring the sand and the hair exposed from his now half-off hood, and then drew back with a low, rumbling growl of warning for him to stay very, very still.
Not a lion; Chephirah could smell his humanness, and that made her relax the barest amount--which was good news for him, because it meant she wasn't going to rip his face off.
Maybe.
Because he was still a strange male and strange males were dangerous, especially ones who so irreverently trespassed.
And Chephirah was feeling extra twitchy about that, especially considering her blind daughter wasn't but a couple yards away.
She glanced up and over her shoulder, and found the girl crouched where she'd left her, curled up in a crevice in the canyon wall, her ears perked and listening. She had told her to hide the instant she'd noticed the male, and now she turned her attention back to him and shifted her weight, massive paws kneading into his back.
She supposed she should give the human a chance, at least, for were mercy and honor not two of her pride's biggest virtues? Humans were ignorant, and if he was just a nomad passing through, killing him for nothing would be a waste.
After all, humans didn't even taste very good.
The shift was instantaneous; one moment the man was pinned by a lion, and the next he was pinned by a large, naked human. Well. Sort of human, if her tail, ears, sharp teeth, and sharp claws didn't give that way. She dug her knees into his lower back and fisted a hand in his hair to keep his head down while she leaned in and growled into his ear, "You have five seconds to explain why you're trespassing in Nomalanga territory."
And her hand tightened in his hair, her claws unsheathing to prick against his scalp.
Atalier's eyes shot wide open at the feel of a massive paw holding him down to the sand. He felt the faint sting of claws poking at the skin of his back. Oh shit!, was definitely his first thought! But not his last. There was no way he could roll out from under the weight that secured him to the prickles of pebbles and stone.
His head was turned to the side, just enough to be able to look at what held him down. It was a lion. A big-ass fucking lion that sure as hell looked like what he was looking for in the first place. He couldn't be that sure however. He wasn't just going to tangle with some wild animal without knowing for certain this was to be his quarry.
But the weight was starting to be a lot to bear. He gasped for breath, pushing out sand from his mouth, as he sought to turn his head enough to look behind him. He tried to tense himself, to keep his ribs from buckling. "Fuck!" he panted out, watching and waiting. There was little more he could do.
Until she turned into a woman that was. That was clearly unexpected.
Atalier breathed in deeply, spewing out more sand and wincing when that clawed hand gripped his hair. "I'm..." He gasped, feeling her sharp knees digging into him.
"I'm a traveler!" he managed to spit out. "Look, I got lost in this canyon. I don't know whose territory this is, or if there were naked lion ladies out here!"
Chephirah tapped the fingers of her free hand against the sand, timing his words. Hm. Almost exactly five seconds. Well done.
His panic seemed genuine, and his excuse sounded plausible. However, one could never be too careful. With a thoughtful hum, she released his hair and started to pat him down instead, checking him over for weapons, and none too gently. "Hmm." She felt nothing on him but his clothing, no weapons, no equipment.
Finally, she released him, and slid off his back to crouch beside him, her tail curled and twitching as she watched him with that intense, unwavering gaze felines were so good at pulling off. "Rather stupid of you to be wandering out here alone, with no supplies, don't you think?" she said, voice a low rumble. "Hmph. Very well. I suppose I won't eat you."
Not that she had been planning on it, but a little fear never failed to set humans on the straight and narrow.
She rose to her feet, briefly examined her claws in a way she hoped would draw his attention to the wicked things, then sheathed them. "You should leave, though, human," she said. "Go back where you came from."
Frankly it felt weird being felt up by some naked lion woman. Atalier didn't know whether to be alarmed or aroused, until she finally let him up. Considering what she could turn into, he decided to stay cautious and carefully climbed to his feet. He pulled the hood down from his face, hair furling out and he looked her over fully.
Eyes remained steady, wary, sizing up the opponent that had dragged him so easily to the ground. His side hurt from the pressure they sustained, but nothing major he reckoned.
"How can I go back?" he said with a shrug of his shoulders, reaching into his poncho and pulling out a water flask, drinking small thirsty sips. "The road is far from here." He eyed her clawed hand, watching the nails recede back into their pockets.
"I'm sorry for intruding on your territory, but the day is nearly over. I'll just make camp here. With something I guess," he said, not sounding very confident.
A low growl started in Chephirah's throat and she drew herself up, squaring off against him--and amused to find that though he was a tall male, she was the larger of the two.
"Will you, now?" she asked, voice a low rumble as she stepped closer, her lip curled to bare large, sharp canines. He may not have a thing to his name, but that didn't mean she wanted him here. Too dangerous. One exception lead to another, growing lax about one instance lead to growing lax in others, and she couldn't afford that, not when she owed it to everyone to keep them safe from the threats they'd fled. "I don't recall giving you permission."
He had nothing on him, and the nearest water source was near her pride's camp. In this heat, he might very well dehydrate or die of heat stroke by the time he got back to...wherever he came from. But that was his problem, not hers. He had made the choice to come this way, and he had to either live or die with his choices.
"Turn around. Go back." And her claws slid free again. "I won't tell you again--"
"Wait!"
Chephirah froze in mid-speech and whirled at the sound of her daughter's voice, and growled in aggravation. Tiaret, tiny and blind-folded, had slipped out of hiding and was making her way toward her by sound and scent. She was dressed in a colorful skirt and loose top and carried her mother's clothes, as well, as her sandal-clad feet tread silently over the sand.
"I thought I told you to stay put."
"You did," Tiaret confirmed as she neared, "but I couldn't." She came to a stop a yard away and sniffed the air as Chephirah moved to position herself firmly between she and the human. "You said he's just a human, mother. That he has nothing." She frowned. She knew as well as Chephirah how scarce water was out here. "Won't he die?"
Chephirah flicked a glance at the man. "Perhaps."
"We should give him water, at least."
Ugh. Bleeding heart Tiaret. It was the healer in her. She didn't understand what it was to make a tough call; she wanted to heal the world. "Tiaret." The girl twitched at the way she said her name, in that tone that told her she was in trouble. "You know the rules. It's a risk we can't afford. He chose his fate."
"What if he didn't? What if he's running from some--"
"All the more reason to cast him out. I won't have him leading his people here."
Tiaret frowned, ears back and tail drooped. "But we take in refugees all the time. You said that's what makes us different, stronger, that we help those that can't help themselves. He's just a lost human."
Chephirah shot her daughter a look, teeth bared, and then rounded on the man again. "Is anyone following you?" she demanded.
Atalier found he didn't much appreciate being spoken of as if he wasn't here. He didn't know whether to be annoyed or grateful at the young woman's intervention. He'd come a long way into these badlands, and to think that his only salvation had been another of these lion-people that stayed the large woman's hand, well... Maybe he was just over thinking it. He kept his eyes on those claws however.
He held his breath, listening to the exchange. A frown soon set in.
"I have no people," he said, feeling the words heavily cutting even to himself. "I came alone. If you have water...I would be honored to partake in your hospitality."
"No people?" Chephirah's eyes narrowed. "And why not? Humans are social, are they not? You have prides. Tribes. So where is yours?"
Even male lions often teamed up in pairs and coalitions, even if temporary ones until they found a pride of their own. Which meant, in Chephirah's eyes, that either he was seeking a new one or had been kicked out of his old one.
He made a noise, his frown deepened but he kept Chephirah's gaze, eyes steady. "My....pride is dead," he said. "I am the last one. I am alone." He nodded and kept his hands where she could see them.
Chephirah blinked, having not expected that answer, and her expression softened. Just a little. She wasn't without empathy, and could in fact relate--and all too closely, as the thought made her stomach twist in a slight pang.
She wasn't about to drop her guard, but she could at least understand.
Giving him a final searing look from head to toe and back, lingering on his eyes in that hard, feline stare, she grunted. "We'll provide you water, stranger," she said, tapping his chest with one of those lethal claws. "Water and a meal. And then you must be on your way, to your own people. Understand?"
Atalier kept his eyes on Chephirah, even after the claw on her hand poked at his chest. It wasn't at all comforting to think they could kill him so easily. However he would be grateful for this...erm, lioness' hospitality. Not killing him being one of them. Atalier let out a slow eased breath.
"What are your names? I am Atalier." He understood their caution. But it didn't hurt them them to know this small bit about each other did it?
"Chephirah," she answered as she took the clothes from her daughter and shrugged them back on. The sun was hot on her skin without the protective fur of her other form, and the sand was burning her bare feet. All things she had pretended not to notice and not to bother her as she confronted Atalier, but it was a relief when she finally got her sandals back on.
"Leader of the Nomalanga Pride." She jerked her chin at the younger girl. "That's Tiaret, one of my daughters."
Tiaret smiled in his direction and dipped her head in greeting, tail swishing. Less cautious than her mother, she was more curious; she'd never met a human before, much less anyone who came from beyond the boundaries of their territory. She'd met very few males.
"If you're wounded, she can fix you. Now come." And Chephirah motioned him to follow as she turned, taking Tiaret by the elbow to guide her as well, and spoke as she walked. "I'll take you to our camp."
[Just gonna put it out there: I'm totally imagining Chephirah with either an Australian, New Zealand or South African accent. Not sure why, haha. Just read "Leader of the Nomalanga Pride" with that in your head.]
"Hello Tiaret," Atalier said. He bowed deeply, a sweeping motion from a life left behind long ago. He stood straight and smiled at the pair, though it was evident the lioness' daughter was unable to see him. These were strange creatures. But there was no doubt in mind that they were people. Tufted eared, tail swaying people.
Atalier found himself unable to say anything further as the trio of them ventured off deeper into the canyon. He wouldn't complain of the pain along his ribs from being held down by a 600 pound lion, or the aching in his back from where Chephirah had dug in her knees.
He accidentally bumped into Tiaret. "Oh, sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to. Your mother left me staggering a bit. She's very...strong."
[HAH! I LOVE IT! xDDD Omg you're right, too, now I'm totally imagining her with some hybrid Aussie/South African accent. CONSIDER YOUR HEADCANON OFFICIALLY CANON. *salutes*]
Tiaret gave a startled "oof" when Atalier bumped her, staggering to the side, and Chephirah whipped around to look behind her to check what was going on. But Tiaret hopped a step and righted her balance with a lash of her tail, and gave a soft laugh of embarrassment, and Chephirah relaxed again and continued her march. She knew she was being overprotective, and overly paranoid, especially toward a man who was utterly defenseless, but Tiaret was equally defenseless in her eyes.
Which was why they had been out here in the first place, to teach her how to fight and hide.
"Oh, no, that was probably all me," Tiaret said, and reached up to adjust her blindfold when it slipped down on her nose. "It's difficult walking a straight line."
She turned her face toward him, ears pricked forward, and had to focus hard on his scent and sounds to give her an idea of space, so as not to drift into him in the process. "She didn't...hurt you, did she?" she asked, voice lowered, though from Chephirah's twitching ears their conversation wasn't exactly private. But her mother had said, 'if he was wounded', and considering what she'd heard--all those growls, a thud like prey hitting the ground, and Atalier's gasped protests, she thought she had a good picture of how things had played out.
Lions were built for taking down wildebeest. To have all that slamming into him...
"It sounded like you'd been flattened by an elephant."
Chephirah hissed under her breath.
What she'd heard was fairly accurate. Atalier wasn't going to downplay the reality. In truth, he had seriously been concerned with being crushed to death by said elephant-sized lion. He chuckled a little which made him audibly wince as his laughter vibrated against his ribs. "Ouch!" he hissed and looked over to Tiaret.
"If I said she was as light as a feather...I'd be lying. She damn near crushed me," he panted, breath catching and he soothed his side a little. "Never the less, I suppose she had reason. What were you two doing out here in the middle of nowhere, if I may ask? I mean, it seems you're away from your uh...pride."
"Oh, us? We were...hunting," Tiaret said, a little color staining her cheeks. She scratched behind an ear. "Well, I was hunting. It's good practice."
Which was to say, Chephirah had brought her a wobbly baby gazelle for her to practice on--which was horribly embarrassing, to say the least, to be trained the way cubs were. But she had made her best effort to hunt the thing, using smell and scent to track it, and it had taken a few awkward attempts (and Chephirah catching it and bringing it back when it escaped several times) before she finally got it--
Though she hadn't had time to kill it when Chephirah smelled the human, and it had scampered back off to its panicked mother while she scampered off to, well...to her mother, too.
Her cheeks darkened all the more. "We go hunting all the time out here, together. Today we were hunting buffalo. I was on the scent of one before you showed up. Anyway, do you need help? Or will you be okay to make it to our camp? You don't sound too good."
Oh. That would explain much of the over protectiveness. Training in her condition couldn't be easy, and having an interloper - even just a human one was probably an annoyance they would rather avoid. Atalier could count his luck when it mattered.
He noticed her expression and he smiled. "Oh, uh. Well, if you could examine my ribs and back, that's where it hurts the most." He blushed and made a hitched breath, wincing when air passed through his lungs again.
"How do you hunt if you can't see? Just curious."
Tiaret reached out a hand to grab Atalier's elbow, and pulled him to a stop as she stopped, as well. Chephirah turned and watched them, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted.
"I hardly touched him."
But Tiaret made quick work of pulling open his poncho and pushing up his shirt. She had worked with plenty of bodies and even helped deliver children, and she was wasn't particularly shy, in the way healers were used to touching and seeing a lot of naked people in various states of distress. Only in her case there was no seeing in the usual sense--and in her case, she really hadn't interacted with many males. Not counting her brother, who had been gone now for six years.
Her hands faltered for a second when they grazed his ribs, and she fought back the stupid blush that wanted to creep down her neck. Yeah. This wasn't her brother.
Tiaret cleared her throat. "I can tell by the bruises that you were feather light," she said, trailing a line from Atalier's ribs to his back, letting her power seep into him, creating a mental map of his injuries. She could see the hairline fracture in his lower left rib toward the back and the bruising spiderwebbing all around it. That was the worst of his injuries; the rest were more bruises and some tiny cuts where Chephirah's claws had pricked him.
Focusing her energy inward, Tiaret began to run her hands over his ribs, back and forth, her hands warming as she did, and warming his skin more than the sun already was. "You've got a small fracture, but I should be able to fix it," she said as she worked. "And anyway, I hunt through smell and sound and feel. I've never had my sight, so it's never been a distraction."
Chephirah said nothing. Tiaret couldn't hunt except with help, as it was now, much less fight, but she wasn't about to correct her bluff. She had taught her that; let the human think she was more dangerous than she was.
She was touching him. She just! She had no boundaries did she?! Did that go with being blind or being tufted-eared?
"H-Hey!" He croaked, stumbling off to the side when she took it upon herself to manhandle him right then and there. Fingers splayed across his ribs and he tightened his body, tensing, expecting pain and bracing himself. Most of his years, pain was all he'd come to know, all he remembered. And this gentility was as foreign to him he was to them.
The pain he expected didn't come, and suddenly all there was was warmth.
Atalier relaxed a bit and he dropped his shirt after the examination was over and he gave a grunt. "What was that? That you did? Were you 'seeing' my wounds?"
He was careful to keep his attention off Chephirah by that point. No need to worsen his injuries.
Tiaret nodded at his question, smiling, oblivious to his discomfort. She was used to patients fussing. No one liked a doctor.
"Yes. I told you I'm a healer, did I not? I can heal, and I can...see your wounds. Though 'see' may not be the right word." She pursed her lips, tail curling in thought. "I'm not sure how else to put it, but I'm aware of your body and its functions, its health and its distress and tension. I know you're fatigued and dehydrated, too, and your temperature is a bit high, but it's nothing rest and water can't fix."
She pat his chest, careful of his bruises. "Strong heart. Otherwise healthy. Anyway, your ribs should be feeling better right about now. I escalated their healing. Do you feel it? You may start to feel a little more tired, too."
Evidently, everything she had decreed had been coming true. He could feel his body growing lethargic all ready. He eyed her mother, expression grateful, and he bowed his head. "You too kind. There's no way I'll be able to repay you." He kept on moving, walking a little easier now that his pain had subsided.
"Thank you," he said and gently squeezed Tiaret's shoulder. "You're nicer than your mother."
But once his eyes fell on Chephirah, his hand retracted.
It was a good thing he retracted his hand when he did, because while Chephirah would tolerate Tiaret touching him to help him, the opposite? Noooot so much. And when his hand lingered just a little too long for Chephirah's liking, her lips pulled back to bare her large, sharp teeth as her ears went back.
Any longer and he may have lost that hand.
Their eyes met, and Chephirah's eyes narrowed, letting him know plainly that she was watching him. It wasn't enough, though, for she slowed her pace and came to walk beside them, one hand going out to grip Tiaret's elbow.
A strange male touching her blind, helpless daughter? Oh hell no.
"I'm quite nice, actually," Chephirah said, deciding to let him know she could hear his every word, too. Tiaret bit back a soft groan. She had only wanted to talk to him. "After all, I'm giving you shelter and a meal, aren't I?"
Atalier expected such a reaction from her, but for some reason he only smirked at the glance she had given him, although it was very brief. She was protective of her daughter, that much was evident and a notion he could respect. He wouldn't try to cross her, but he didn't think letting her see him as weak would do anything in his favor.
"I appreciate your hospitality, Chephirah," he said, bowing his head once again. "I suppose every mouse should be grateful for not being stepped on."
"Indeed they should," Chephirah said, while Tiaret fell silent--though the look on her face was a hybrid of annoyance and disappointment. This was embarrassing, being mothered like this. It was embarrassing every other time, and even worse now in front of someone new. She knew her mother's heart was in the right place, but it only made her feel...well...
Like a bloody invalid.
Besides, this man was hardly a threat!
Squirming a little, she managed to free her arm, more than capable of keeping up with them on her own, thank you! To her relief, Chephirah let her go.
"I expect nothing but good behavior and respect from you when we arrive," Chephirah continued. "Understand that my pride may be...wary of you. Many come from difficult situations, and you may not be a lion, but you're still a man." She looked at him, lifting an eyebrow. "Our relationship with the males of our kind is...complicated." It was a fine line to walk, and it could go bad quickly. Many prides had found that balance and lived harmoniously, but Chephirah's experience had not been so happy.
Soon enough, there came the sound of water as Chephirah lead them around a bend to a spot where the canyon opened up. There, a small waterfall in the shade of the canyon, no more than a trickle really, emptied into a little basin. It was green all around it, a stark contrast to the rest of the dead, dusty land. A tiny oasis, but a haven nonetheless.
And all around it were tents, along with blankets laid out for those that wanted to enjoy the cooler nights or escape the stuffiness of the tents during the day.
And that camp was full of lions. Some in lion form, some in human form, some children, some old enough to be grandparents, and everything in between. There were no men, but there were young boys, the children running around and playing while most of the other adults appeared to be doing what lions did best.
Sleeping.
Chephirah looked over at Atalier. "Welcome to our camp."
"Whoa."
It was the only word that would pass his lips as he viewed the canyon inlet. It was much bigger and more populated than he would have ever imagined, and seeing them all here as a people was more than he could have dreamed. They were as foreign to him as he was to them, but the fascination was overwhelming. It was -
"Beautiful," he murmured aloud.
He breathed in sharply looking at Chephirah and there was a genuine smile on his face, a look of deep gratitude. "I will. Thank you. Some water and food would be nice."
Beautiful, eh? That earned him another sharp, warning look from Chephirah.
"They are," she agreed tightly, tail lashing in twitchy, erratic little motions, "but don't get any ideas. Come."
She motioned for him to follow her as she strode toward the water, and as she did, the other women and children began to notice him. There were a variety of reactions: mothers pulling their children in closer, some baring teeth, some tucking tails and laying back ears, some watching curiously and fearlessly with ears pricked forward and tails relaxed. Her pride was diverse, and diverse in experiences, as well, and not everyone had come from troubling circumstances. Some had grown up there, never knowing any of the darker things that happened beyond their territory, and some had just needed a tribe to join.
Chephirah looked at her pride, face and posture calm. Exuding calm was the key to relaxing others. "This is Atalier," she announced. "I found him in the desert, unarmed and weak and dying." Maybe that was an exaggeration, but he would have been dead at the rate he was going. "I offered him our hospitality, and he knows our rules. He won't be here long."
And then she turned back to Atalier, and motioned to the basin. "Drink," she said, "slowly, though, or you'll be sick. I'll fetch you some food." After all, she'd brought him here, so it was her responsibility to watch him. She turned to leave, but an older woman approached her then, whispered something in her ear, and she sighed.
"Tiaret," she called.
Tiaret's ears went up at the sound of her name, and she turned her face toward her mother's voice, head cocked.
"See that he's fed and made comfortable. I have to tend to some matters." And with that said, she turned to walk off with the other woman, leaving Tiaret behind.
Tiaret, who was one of those lions that had never been exposed to anything awful, and who was merely curious about the human.
And similarly relieved that her mother was now gone so she didn't have to watch herself like a bad child!
With a smile, she stepped closer to Atalier, tail swishing. "Sooo..." she said, and her smile turned wry. "Sorry about my mother."
At last they were free of the smothering and frankly somewhat terrifying supervision of Chephirah. Atalier wasn't going to pretend he wasn't wary of her. He was old enough to be aware of himself, and the fact that six hundred pounds of angry lioness wasn't a fight he could easily win, even with the use of his power. He still had a task to complete, but for now, he was a guest in their home, and as curious as the other lionesses were, he tried not to be more conspicuous than he all ready was.
He turned to Tiaret instead and smiled. "It's all right," he said, waving a hand like it was nothing, although he would never admit that her mother was terrifying. "I know for a fact I'd be as wary as her if a stranger came into my home. However, I can't thank you enough on your generosity. You have my deepest gratitude."
Atalier smiled at her and nudged her shoulder gently. "Come on, you had some things to show me right? I'll be your eyes, but I'm sure you know your home best."
Tiaret couldn't help but laugh at his offer--not a derisive one, just an amused one. Oh, she could find her way around her home just fine, provided nobody moved something to a different place than she was used to. But Chephirah generally made sure their camps were always organized in the same fashion no matter where they moved, so the layout was always the same regardless. She didn't need eyes to find what she needed here; it was only when she was somewhere unfamiliar that she lost confidence.
But she decided she would let him feel useful, and so she held out her arm for him to take.
"We slayed a warthog earlier," she said. "There should still be some left."
And she cocked her head then, thinking. "Do you...do humans eat meat?" Come to think of it, she wasn't sure what they ate! They had a lot in common with other primates, she knew, and primates sometimes didn't eat meat. Or they ate bugs. "Or insects?"
Her inexperience was rather intriguing or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing and he was the idiot for presuming she needed help at all. He was gonna go with the latter for now, feeling himself blush at her playing along with him. He blushed further at her laat comment.
"Yes I eat meat. Most humans do I'd say. Though, uh, recently I haven't been able to enjoy that luxury," he sighed. He took her hand in his, fingers threading into hers and careful to avoid her claws.
"So what do, uh, you lionesses eat? Your mother looked like she could feast on me and have plenty of room for seconds."
Though she was holding his hand, and though she was pretending to let him help her, she was the one that lead him along through the camp, guiding him with all the ease of someone who had their full vision. She measured her steps and created a mental map through smell to find her way around--and considering she was leading him to where they kept their store of meat, it was easy to find!
The warthog had been eaten raw when it was fresh, but once that meal was finished, the leftovers had been butchered, salted, and left to hang dry in a large, sturdy tent. Tiaret lead the way to the tent and pushed the flap aside, where various small cuts of meat hang.
She felt her way inside, then took down a leg and offered it to him with a smile.
It was salted, but it was still very much fresh and raw. "Here you go!"
Atalier took the raw meat in hand. Really? She was going to give him this without at least smoking it first!? Oh, he supposed he was the fool yet again. He was the human in the middle of a pride of curious, hungry, and aggressive lions. That they didn't eat him on sight was a miracle all its own. He slowly bit down and took the tiniest tear from the warthog meat and made loud chewing sounds.
"Hmmm!" he exaggerated. "Delicious! And you know what? It'd taste even better over a fire. You got one of those around here?" Atalier chuckled and silently spat out the piece of raw meat in his mouth. He could still taste the blood. "I'm human, Tiaret. I'll need to eat it cooked unfortunately. Or I'll probably get sick. I'm sure it's cleaned, yes! But I don't have big lion teeth and tough lion digestion, unfortunately."
...Oh.
Really?
Tiaret froze, blinking slowly. Truth be told, she had no idea what a human really looked like. For obvious reasons! Granted, she didn't even know what she even looked like, apart from what she could feel and what she was told, but even then she relied entirely on her imagination. She didn't even know what color looked like, after all.
That said, she had heard her kind and humans were similar when they were not in lion-form. And so she had assumed that meant he also must have sharp teeth and the ability to eat what she did, how she ate it.
She didn't know humans were so...fragile.
Her face colored at her own assumption, and because she had heard him spit it out. It was that bad? He could get sick?
Ooooooops!
"I'm so sorry!" she said, the healer in her quite horrified that she could have made him ill, and the perfectionist in her horrified that she had messed up that badly and offered a guest something he found vile. She should have asked his preferences! Not just assumed! That was rude manners on her part, ahhh! "I didn't realize...I didn't know you...here! I'll cook it!"
And she reached out for the meat, snatching it away. "Ah, can you build a fire? It should be fine after it's cooked? You won't be ill off what you tried, will you?"
Atalier blinked at her, hands vaguely bloodied from the meat and hurried after her as she went about the task. He felt bad for suggesting he couldn't eat it. But he couldn't, not like she could - or how he assumed she could anyway. "W-wait. Okay. Um... You guys don't have fire around here? Like a furnace? Torches, anything to keep warm. Or do you just use your, well, nevermind."
He didn't know if he had the proper tools for fire, but he supposed he could find a way to make one. Luckily there was lots of dry brush around them, pressed in the edges of the canyon walls where roots had shriveled up and small lizards scurried to get out of his way. He pulled some, and pried at the roots. There was a hint of hesitation as he set up his pile, and made the roots the center of the kindling.
"Bring me a piece of metal yes? I can make a fire, but it'll take a few tries."
Once he had everything he needed, Atalier looked about him, taking a deep breath before conjuring a hardened ball of sand. He held it firmly before striking it against the metal. He solidified the ball as hard as he could, and soon sparks began to take, showering the dried grass and roots and smoke soon began to rise.
Tiaret turned her face toward Atalier, her expression puzzled and eyebrows lifted. "It's hot during the day," she said, head tilted. And during the night the sand still held the sun's heat--and they were cozy in their tents, and cozier still if they shifted. Few of them slept alone, preferring to share body heat and company--and in more than a few cases, intimacy. They rarely had a need for fire.
But fire was useful for other things, like tanning furs and tempering tools and cauterizing wounds, and Tiaret fetched him a bit of flint and sat patiently by while he built a fire. Her ears flicked, taking in the sounds of his labor, and soon her nose twitched as smoke filtered up, and she sneezed.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked as she held the meat out to him, nose wrinkled. He was about to ruin perfectly delicious meat!
"Some spices would be nice," Atalier said thoughtfully as he made his small fire and set about sticking the meat between two sticks to allow it to cook evenly. It was propped in the middle by a spike and he turned it slowly over the flame, letting the grease and fat hiss into the fire.
When he had everything he needed, he sprinkled the spices over the meat, letting it cook along with the fire. A large drip of fat made the fire whip up a large lick of flame and nearly singe his hair. Already the smell was making his stomach growl and when it was crispy enough he pulled it out of the fire and held it delicately by it's spit.
"It smells wonderful," he said, although he wasn't sure she would agree. He blew on it gently and took a bite, making soft sounds of pleasure at the way it melted in his mouth. "This is the best thing I've had to eat in months. Maybe years. Thank you so much. Would you like to try it?"
Spices brought out the flavor of the meat, though many of the older generation still believed that all the flavor one needed was already there in the flesh and blood. Tiaret liked a little spice on her meat sometimes, to change things up, but from the smell of it, he was adding a lot more than she was used to!
She sat down by the fire, nose twitching as she took in the smells of cooking, seasoned meat--and her stomach let out a loud growl that surprised her. She put her hand over her belly and cleared her throat as though that would mask the sound--she had eaten not long ago, so why would she be hungry! But then she heard him eating, and then he went and offered her some...
Brow furrowing, she leaned in and took a sniff of it. To be honest, she had never tried cooked meat. Her family ate raw, and it was what she had always known. Their diets were simple and minimalist, just as their very lives were simple and minimalist. But he sounded like he was enjoying it--though maybe it was just that their kind and his kind had very different palates?
It didn't smell burnt and charred...
"Hmm...I don't want to take your meal," she said, and cocked her head. "Maybe just a taste?"
And she held her mouth open, waiting.
Oh, she was...waiting for him to....feed it to her?
Was that what her mother did for her?
Atalier just stared for a moment between bites before taking a piece of the cooked meat and tossing it cautiously into her mouth. He smiled, however, hopeful that she would like it.
"How does it taste?" he asked, tearing more cooked meat with his teeth and resisting the urge to moan at the flavor that he'd missed so much.
Well, he had offered! So she figured he would offer her the bite, too!
Which he did, by tossing it into her mouth.
Tiaret let out a startled sound as it hit her tongue and dropped it in surprise, but she caught it with her hand, sniffed at it curiously, and then took a nibble of it.
She chewed it slowly, brow creased as though in thought, and then took a larger bite. She cocked her head as she chewed, tail swaying as she considered his question and tried to decide what she thought about it, and then finished it off with another bite.
"Hmm..." she said, licking her lips and then her fingers. "It's...dry."
To a human, it was probably quite moist and juicy! But she was used to eating her meat bloody and warmed only with body heat. "Chewy. But the flavor is nice, if oddly smoky. It's an interesting flavor, but it could use more blood."
"You know, it is an acquired taste, I suppose," Atalier found himself laughing. They were so different to think that even their tastes for a meal varied so greatly. He didn't blame her - not that he had any reason to - and he just went about finishing his portion of the meat, feeling his hunger greatly satisfied. It'd been the first time in what felt like forever that he had real food.
"If you were to ever wander among humans, eating bloodied meat might be frowned upon," he commented. "They'd wonder if it was another human you were eating. And...that's only acceptable in some circles. But, I'm sure it's very good for you! Lots of up...extra juices."
He laughed and used some of the sand in his hands to put out the fire once the meat was consumed. He didn't tell her, but he put away a few bits in his pockets for later... It wasn't like he knew exactly when his next meal was going to come along. "I don't suppose I could have some water could I? I don't know if I'm allowed to drink from that ....wonderful looking pool over there."
Tiaret's lip curled at his words, face paling in utter disgust. "You...you're telling me that some humans eat other humans?" she said, and felt her stomach churn at the thought. She might not even be human, but she couldn't fathom it; their kind were similar enough that it was basically cannibalism.
Not that cannibalism was a foreign concept to their kind.
"Do...do human males also eat children that aren't their own...?" she asked with a grimace, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. That's...not a pleasant topic, is it? Not at meal time. I don't mean to be nosy. By all means, help yourself to the water. It's there to be enjoyed. Just drink slow. Let your body adjust."
Talking about cannibalism while eating wasn't Atalier's idea of an appetizing conversation. He ate until he was satisfied and swallowed hard. His parched throat didn't make the food go down easy. He forced it with a hard cough, clearing his throat of what sand lodged in the flesh.
"Um...no. I don't think so. But I haven't met every human in the world. I think most humans tend to not..eat other humans," he finished. He stood up, gesturing Tiaret to stand with him, even taking her hand and climbing back down toward the pool.
The feel of water so close was divine and he resisted the urge to completely plunge in it stripped down butt naked. But instead he let go of her hand gently and sat by the waters, wary of other lions that might be around and he quietly sipped the clear waters.
"It's wonderful," he found himself saying. "I've never...tasted water so good. I know it's just water...but ...to think I've taken such a simple thing for granted." He looked at his rippling reflection, disturbed on the surface and could feel himself burning, cheeks growing hot. Maybe he had been in the sun too long.
Tiaret missed his gesture, but when he took her hand, she rose with him. Oh. So human males didn't eat cubs they didn't sire? Really? Tiaret frowned thoughtfully at that, even more curious now, because what else was different about them, culturally? The physical differences were obvious, but from how he spoke, he sounded like he came from another world.
She smelled and heard the water long before they approached it, and she felt her way carefully down to the pool and worked her way to the edge. Kneeling down beside him, she cupped her hands and splashed some of it onto her hands and arms to cool herself--and then burst out a laugh at his wonder.
"Nothing tastes so delicious as the thing you've been deprived of," she said, and took a sip from her cupped hands. "And nothing will ever taste as wonderful as desert water, which is certainly never just water. It's life."
She paused, turning her head toward him with an amused twist to her lips. "Though...I daresay the minerals in this particular pool might also have a little to do with its taste, too. Are you new to desert life, Atalier?"
"Deprived of....yes, Almost to where I've passed out. Except I practically did," he said, not quite able to deal with his embarrassment. He sighed and continued to drink a few more handfuls of water, sating his thirst for the time being before standing up, stripping his clothes layer by layer.
The other lions were keen to stay away from him, and it seemed Tiaret couldn't see him, so what did it hurt to take a dip.
"I'm not exactly new to it.... It's all I've known all my life. So you can see how precious water is to someone born and raised near Essyrn," he said kneeling down in his small clothes to test the water with his feet. He splashed it a little until he eased himself in. He wasn't sure he should tell her he was going for a swim. Maybe she wouldn't hear him.
Tiaret's ear flicked and she blinked, taking in the soft, subtle rustlings of clothing, the splash of water. Atalier may have been careful and cautious, but Tiaret lived her whole life using her ears as her eyes, sound as her sight, and could easily recognize patterns. All her kind had keen hearing, and it wasn't that hers was better than other lion-kind--it was just that she relied on it more, and didn't have vision to distract her. She didn't need eyes to know he had stripped and was now in the water; the soft sounds of moving water, different from the sounds of the spring itself, told her as much. That, and his voice was now coming from that direction, and lower than previously.
She cocked her head curiously. Well, there was no reason why he couldn't.
"Essyrn," she said, repeating the word slowly. She stretched out her legs and then dipped her feet in the water, her tail flicking along the surface. That was about as deep as she would willingly go; she bathed out of necessity, but wasn't particularly keen on water. "The human-place. You're quite a long way from home, aren't you? Don't you miss your people?"
Atalier's breath hitched at the feeling of a real bath once more. The feeling of water brought exceptional relief and he eased into it as he carefully scrubbed at his skin, getting the grime and sand out. He supposed the sand would never really come all the way out.
"I miss my mother," he found himself saying. "I haven't seen her in years. Or it's felt like years anyway. She was taken into slavery... I don't know where, or how. I've been trying to find her. It's not easy."
"Slavery?" Tiaret's chest clenched, a sick feeling coiling in her gut. "Oh, that's...that's barbaric. I...my mother has mentioned that some humans do that, that they own others, that that's why we must keep our distance, but..."
She frowned and reached out toward him, following the sound of his voice. Her hand brushed his cheek clumsily, then lowered until she found his shoulder, which she pat gently, wanting to offer what comfort and condolences she could. She couldn't even imagine. Her mother, dragged off to be chained and owned.
...Well, her mother would likely brutally murder anyone who tried, but the thought of it was miserable nonetheless. And humans were softer, clawless and fangless. More helpless. Who would do that to someone's mother?
"I'm sorry. Maybe we can help?" And then she paused and frowned. No, her mother wouldn't even dream of it. Far too risky, and he was a stranger. "Maybe I can help?"
A small shiver went through him at that faint touch and Atalier turned his body toward Tiaret. And he glanced at her hand against his shoulder. As faint as that touch was, Atalier was greatly comforted by it and he smiled faintly. He could appreciate the gesture, even if it was a little awkward. Being completely naked and all that.
"I...don't know how you could right now. But...if I think of something, I'll let you know," he smiled and reached up to pat her shoulder as well, gripping it with a firm hand and gently reaching down to scrape his skin of the grime he'd let accumulate.
"How long have your people been here? In this canyon? To think I just stumbled upon it, I really didn't mean to intrude. At least your mother didn't eat me right away," he laughed, albeit a bit nervously.
"I have a good sense of smell. If you have anything of hers..." Tiaret offered, trailing off uncertainly with a frown. No, he was right. She also wasn't sure how much use she could be to him, when she was hardly of any use to her Pride. A lioness that couldn't hunt, that couldn't even navigate new terrain without a guide, was hardly useful to anyone, much as her mother assured her that wasn't sure. And no doubt he thought the same; what could a blind girl possibly do to help?
Not only that, but she knew little to nothing about the human places.
Feeling a little foolish for offering without thinking, Tiaret laid her ears back and played with the bangles decorating her tail. "Anyway, we've been here for a week now. We don't stay in one place for too long; the game moves on, so we wander our territory with them," she said. "And mom wouldn't eat you. She just might...eviscerate you a little."
She smiled teasingly, flashing sharp teeth. "I've heard it said human doesn't taste very good."
Quite the opposite truly.
Atalier's initial inspection of Tiaret and even that of her mother brought up wonders that perhaps a breed of people seemed far superior to the humanistic flesh that he was encased in. They had claws and teeth and manes and strength that could have turned Atalier into harvested wheat the moment he came into their pride's territory.
The fact that they didn't and they weren't quickly made him realize they were more intelligent than even he had considered. They were smart, sentient. And their hides...were beautiful.
Atalier had forgotten why he'd been sent here in the first place. To find their home and kill one of them. To bring back a pelt. He felt his stomach knot up like he was going to be sick. He cleared his throat of rising bile and smiled at Tiaret though she couldn't see him. "I have nothing," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I know that's not much of any help to myself."
A soft chuckle, although it was audibly forced. "I lost everything my family had. We were cursed." And that's all he wanted to say about that.
He was finished and got out of the water, letting the coldness of it drip off his form. He was content to let himself air dry. "You're mother. She's an interesting woman. Or...lioness. How old is she? Clearly she takes care of herself."
Tiaret let out a startled laugh at his question, her sightless eyes widening. She cupped her hand over her mouth to hold back another giggle. "Oh, you did not just ask that!" she laughed, shaking her head.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you a lady never tells? At least, that's what mom always says. But if I had to fathom a guess..." Tiaret cocked her head, brow furrowing in thought as she ticked numbers off on her fingers. "Let's see, I'm twenty...my brother is twenty-four..she was fairly young when she had him. When she had us." She frowned, a dark look crossing her face at those words, and she shivered.
"Ah...well...I'd guess she's about forty or so? But gods and goddesses and spirits above help you if you ever think of asking her. Why do you ask?"
Why did he ask? That was a good question and one he hadn't really thought about until now. For the most part, it was an innocent question right? It wasn't like he thought she was anything more than the scary lioness that almost crushed his ribcage.
Because she was fucking terrifying!
"Oh I-I wouldn't ask her!" Atalier said quickly. "I was just wondering. Because I mean...her body's really strong....and supple. Y'know! She does a good job of taking care of herself."
Right. There. Foot in mouth.
There was a long, awkward pause. Tiaret faced him, her blindfold hiding the crease that had deepened between her brows. Her lips pursed, ears cocked and head tilted in sheer perplexity.
"Are you...attracted to my mother?"
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"NO!" Atalier said quickly. "No! I'm just having a conversation! I'm not weird I swear!"
He was burning red with embarrassment. Oh he didn't know what he was thinking or what he was doing. He just needed to get a pelt from one of these people. Although that seemed easier said than done.
"I'm sorry. You're really attractive too! You've got a, um, a nice body. And you're a nice person. A lot nicer than I was expecting honestly. I am the only non-lion person here after all."
Though she couldn't see his blush, she could practically hear it in his words and tone. Oh yes. She totally believed him. The too-quick response and too-many-excuses was truly convincing.
And then he was complimenting her. Tiaret barked an incredulous laugh and swung her tail through the water, splashing water at him. "'Too'? 'Too'? So you admit it! You were thinking it! Of my own mother!" She laughed again, slapping her knee and shaking her head in disbelief and amusement alike. A nice body. Her? She supposed so. She was fit, but she had no idea what she really looked like aside from what others told her, and so she never really gave it much thought. Looks weren't important to her, after all.
"Oh, you're so lucky she wasn't around to hear that. Especially the part where you commented on me." And she flashed him a playful grin, sharp teeth flashing, and hoped her teasing hid the rush of heat in her cheeks.
Atalier didn't know if he could retract anything he said now. It was much too late for that. Even as he was flushed with embarrassment, he also knew because technically they weren't lies. He flicked his gaze over Tiaret and felt his pulse quicken. Maybe he'd just been wandering the desert for far too long.
He hadn't been looking at her cheeks or see any flush to them. But he was looking at her neck, and the pulse that raced there. A hitch in it. Or was it a trick of the light. Probably the latter. Nobody's vision was that good, least of all his. Atalier snorted, forcing himself to laugh to get over choking on his own foot.
"Well, that's good. But...it's true," he said, sobering and plopping down beside her, landing with a thud in the sand. "Just take my word for it." He shrugged, and propped his arms onto his knees. "So what do you all do for fun around here? Besides lay in the sun?"
Tiaret's grin didn't lessen. Take his word for it, she would!
So she was...attractive, then? It wasn't the first time she had heard it; her mother told her she was beautiful all the time, but it was different coming from her own mother who loved her unconditionally than from a stranger. And for some reason, even though she had never cared about it before...she kind of liked that.
She cocked her head curiously as he came to sit beside her, ears flipping toward him to better hear him, and she leaned back onto her hands. "For fun? Oh, plenty of things! We play games and tussle and tell stories, we tend the little ones, we sing and play music." She tilted her head to the other side. "Is that very different from what your people do?"
Although he didn't have to sit beside her, Atalier was finding he much better related to someone he was allowed to sit with. It clearly was immaterial with Tiaret as she couldn't see. But she could hear him just fine and Atalier cleared his throat and forced himself to relax. He much preferred her company to her terrifying mother. Who was wrought with hardwon muscle and ticked off eyes.
Well, she hadn't killed him yet. That had to be a good thing.
"Not so different," Atalier nodded to her. "I guess I was expecting you guys to like...hunt in pairs and carve meat from bones and pull fleas from your fur kind of thing." Oh gods, yeah that sounded really stupid now that it came out of his mouth. And he was cringing hard.
"When I was small, I did very much the same thing. We had wealth, and when I wasn't practicing my numbers and letters, I took on riding, boxing, wrestling. I guess that's not all that different from tussling, as you called it, right? Human adults, however, can sort of expand their methods of fun. We drink, gamble, visit brothels, race, watch matches in the Colosseum. Although the latter isn't always fun depending on who you ask."
Tiaret's brow furrowed and she cocked her head to the side, ears perked curiously. Boxing and wrestling she understood. Racing she understood. Numbers and letters she...somewhat understood, for some of her kind had experience with humans and knew they liked to draw their language onto things. Drinking she understood, even! (Although she understood it as literally drinking, as in drinking water, and couldn't grasp why that was significant enough an activity to mention. Maybe it was just because he was so thirsty.)
But he had just said a lot of activities she didn't recognize, and she scooted in closer to him like someone settling in for story time, her tail swishing idly behind her and flicking lightly against his side.
"We do get fleas and ticks out here, so often we have to," she said, not quite understanding the cringe in his voice. It was true, after all! "What are those things you said? Gamble? What is that? What is a brothel? Or a Colosseum? I have not heard of those."
Atalier's eyes widened when he felt something wiggling against his side. At first he thought it was some weird sand snake. And a quick glance down confirmed that it was indeed her tail. He breathed a small sigh of relief because his first instinct was to snatch it up and thwack it hard against the ground like the angry rope that it was.
"Oh, those are all things that are ever popular to where I'm from. Humans like games of chance, risk their gold, their slaves and anything they have in games where the potential to win comes down to the smallest detail. Dice, roulette, cards, or even simple bets can drive people insane. It's strange. Personally, I never saw the importance."
He flushed a little at their proximity, and instead scooted closer to her as well so that their arms were touching, at least then so she could focus more easily on what he was saying. And make her tail swish a little less between them.
"Brothels are places were people can pay for pleasures of the flesh. Ehmmm... Mating, i guess would be the simplest term, but I think the workers in brothels try to avoid pregnancy as much as possible. That can be fun, but it's important to make sure that you don't catch something after the act," he said, shrugging. "And a Colosseum is a place in Essyrn of much importance. It's a great big arena where fights are staged between Gladiators - minimally armored, and vicious killers - that fight to the death, to a draw, depending on the kind of match. People also bet on that too, just another kind of gambling."
Tiaret blinked at his descriptions, as he used yet more words she didn't recognize. Cards? Dice? Roulette? And they would bet their slaves? The concept of slavery was one she only understood through hearing horror stories through the grapevine, and through Atalier now, but...what?
And paying to...mate? Her face flushed hot at his words, which were more explicit than anything she had heard. Her people were fairly private about that, and while a few of the lionesses were in relationships with one another, they were by and large discreet. It was confusing, too! Catch what? What would they catch?
And they...put killers together to fight to the death for...fun? And people gambled on that, too? Bet on two humans tearing themselves apart? What was entertaining about that?! Many of the lionesses there had scars from their own battles, ones they had to fight for their lives, so to do it as...as entertainment...?
Why?
Her head was starting to hurt. With a grimace, Tiaret rubbed at her temple, his answers giving her only more questions. "Your...people. They sound very...violent," she said slowly, trying to choose her words carefully. "Can they, ah...not find mates on their own? Do your people have many killers? It...huh."
Another flick of her tail. "Your world sounds scary."
Her evaluation was startlingly accurate. And he found himself frowning at the thought that thought. It was true, humans were killers and violent and took joy out of the suffering of others. Not everyone was like that, of course, but it was hard to see the forest for the trees. And the spaces in between were often deafening at the sounds of screams that echoed from within.
"In Essyrn, people do find mates. They wed or...make their union official in the eyes of the law and in religion - that is another beast altogether. But...not all humans relish in violence and death. We are not perfect."
He hadn't realized it but he picked up her tail in his hand and was gently petting the tuft at the end. It was soft and he was feeling anxious. "It can be pretty horrible, and...it was a life I used to know. A life I used to cling to. But not anymore," he said, clutching that tuft softly.
Oh.
Oops.
Tiaret flushed again when she realized, too late, how judgmental she must have sounded. We are not perfect, he said, and his words reminded her all too sharply that neither were her kind. Far from it.
If they were, they wouldn't be living separate like this. They wouldn't fear males of their kind. They wouldn't have child survivors of infanticide among them or women with the scars from their mates. They weren't all bad, not by far; Tiaret hoped her brother would do better, be better, and some prides lived harmoniously. But other prides could be unstable, and territory battles were bloody; her mother's pride had been usurped, and that was where things got ugly. Very, very ugly. Tiaret only knew that much, for Chephirah chose not to talk about it.
She opened her mouth to apologize, to say he wasn't alone and that things weren't all peace and harmony among her kind, either. But then she jumped when she felt something grab her tail and stroke the tuft, and she reached down and grabbed at it--and found his hand instead.
"Oh!" she said, startling yet again before letting out a sheepish laugh. "Sorry, that's just you! I don't know what I thought that was!"
And it was while she was clutching his hand in hers that a familiar, feminine voice suddenly boomed, "WHAT do you think you're doing?"
There Chephirah was, marching up behind them, hands curled at her sides and lip curled enough to bare sharp fangs as she glowered at them. Or, more specifically, Atalier, who was in but his smallclothes and holding her daughter's hand.
Atalier spooked when he heard Chephirah behind him and although he let go of Tiaret's hand, he stayed where he was beside her. He squinted, furrowing his brow to get a better look at that angry lioness and he just sniffed. It wasn't meant to be mocking, but it probably sounded like it.
"We're just sitting here talking," he answered honestly. Gods she could be scary. This time, however, Atalier was determined not to be intimidated. He wasn't doing one goddamned thing wrong. "Care to sit with us? Go for a swim maybe?"
Yeah, get her cooled down. Good plan, Atalier.
Chephirah wrinkled her nose like a cat that had just smelled something awful. She flicked her tail, quick and jerky and agitated unlike the relaxed swishes of Tiaret's tail. Oh, well, this was a change. Before, she could practically smell his fear, and now...now he had it in him to act haughty?
"I hate swimming," she growled, which came out more petulant than she intended. But she was distracted, too busy eying how closely he was sitting to her daughter, their sides touching, and too thrown off by how...fearless he suddenly was. She didn't like it one bit. She liked it far better when he was nervous, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle this new, confident, far too reasonable human. He was far too comfortable far too fast and what was worse, her daughter had thrown caution to the wind, as well!
"Where are your clothes?" she snapped, not about to be swayed.
Tiaret frowned at her, her tail going limp. "He swam, mother," she said tiredly, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Annoyance! It was so rare when Tiaret gave her attitude. "His clothes are..." She sniffed the air. "Right there. We're just talking. Or we were, until you started roaring."
Chephirah took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. She closed her eyes. Was she being unreasonable? This was a human. Someone lacking claws and teeth. If Tiaret shifted, she would be bigger than him, stronger than him. And it was true, he had shown no sign of threat. But she still couldn't help her unease--and she was well aware that it was no doubt just her issue, her past, coloring the present. The last time a strange male had come through...
But that was a lion. Was she just being unfair and overbearing?
The human would be gone soon, anyway.
"Perhaps water would be a good idea," she conceded at last, and knelt by the water's edge to drink from her cupped hands. Maybe the heat had gone to her head. "What were you discussing?"
It was a risk he was going to have to take. If he was scared of her, she would kill him. If he wasn't, at least he didn't die a coward. Instead, he would just die an idiot.
"I swear, that's it," he replied, although she seemed more focused on her daughter than on him. Oh, then she started to calm down. Atalier had been bristling and hadn't even realized it, and he settled down when she cupped that water to take a deep drink of it.
"Talking about...other humans," Atalier said honestly, eyes flitting over Chephirah's form. "She asked me what people did for fun, my kind. It wasn't exactly a pleasant discussion."
He sighed a little and shifted his ass around to keep it from getting numb.He dusted rocks off his bum and shifted so that he was crouching down beside Chephirah. "Look I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Your daughter is a very good listener. And an excellent conversationalist,"he muttered, and extended a hand to her. "I apologize if I offended you in any way."
Spirits above.
Chephirah looked at his offered hand, then at him, and lifted an eyebrow. He was...apologizing? Behaving like a rational, polite creature? Even in the face of her blowing and bellowing like an elephant?
If there was one way to suck the wind from her sails, that was it. And Chephirah realized, grudgingly, that perhaps she had been too keen and quick to label him, and too stubborn to admit it. She had seen a human. She had seen a man. And her immediate thought was to distrust him on that alone. Being wary and taking no chances was what kept her folk alive and healthy, but...
She glanced at Tiaret, her daughter's face turned in her direction as she calmly listened. She looked relaxed, and the human just looked weary. And even after all her growling and grumbling and full on attacking him, he had been nothing but polite.
Ughhh.
She hated it when she was wrong.
But it was also her job as a leader to know when to admit it.
With a quiet sigh, she took his hand in hers. "Perhaps...we did get off on the wrong foot," she said slowly, as though hating every word. "You did not offend me. You have done nothing. It's just my nature to be wary." Another low sigh. "I'm sure you can understand, after what you yourself have lost?"
"It takes a big woman to make that kind of admission," he said. And immediately cringed inside. He flushed a furious red. Oh, pfft, not a big woman. Because Chephirah was huge! In comparison to himself.
"I mean big of heart," he quickly corrected. Good going, shoved that foot right into his mouth. Atalier sighed and chewed on his lips. As if he needed to give that lioness or any of the others in her pride a reason to tear him a part.
There was still the issue of his contract. He needed a pelt. He needed to take one back with him. And the longer he sat here, spoke with these people...the more he began second guessing himself.
"I have no home," he found himself saying. "I was driven away and my family was murdered. So I understand. You're perfectly justified to feel the way you do."
He was fed, cleaned, quenched, and temporarily sheltered. There was no other way to go about it, he told himself. If someone had a cure for his curse...what other choice did he have. He could bury this place in sand, no one would know it was here for the next thousand years...
"CHEPHIRAH! CH-CHEPHIRAH!!!"
That hoarse voice cracked and echoed out against the stone as a young lion scrambled up the side of the pool's edge, clawing red dirt, and collapsing down at her side. He was a young male with a mane like hers and he was panting hard.
"Chephirah! Th-there are things in the canyon! Things like him!" And he pointed a finger at Atalier, trembling with exhaustion. "They're all over! I don't know how many! B-but they're coming through! Coming here!"
Luckily for Atalier, Chephirah only blinked at his flustered correction, not understanding. She was a big woman. Tall, strong, broad-shouldered, with well-earned muscle, for all intents and purposes built much like a male, and indistinguishable from one in lion form. She was big, and big was good among her kind. It meant strength and power and health and the ability to pull one's weight and come out on top in a fight. Small, like Tiaret, wasn't so good. It was weakness and vulnerability and, for some, an early death.
So she only snorted at his correction. Big of heart, indeed. She cocked her head slightly, giving Atalier a pensive look at his words, at the loss of his family--oh, she definitely knew her share of loss--but before she could think of words to say, another voice cut in.
Male and familiar.
Tiaret's back went as rigid as Chephirah's, their ears erect, but it wasn't with alarm--just surprise. At least at first.
"Adeyemi?" Chephirah breathed as the young lion crested the edge, watching him shift from lion to human-ish as he collapsed in the shade. In a flash she was kneeling at his side, splashing water onto her son's hot skin. Her son, who wasn't even supposed to be here, who was supposed to be out securing his own pride, his own life, because he couldn't stay here. He had been lingering all this time? Watching them? Another time and she would have been angry with him despite her relief and joy at seeing him--he knew their ways--but then he babbled out words that made her freeze.
And then the surprise did turn to alarm.
"What?" She snapped a look at Atalier, her eyes flashing venom, her tail twitching, jerky and snake-like. "I thought you said you were alone?" she growled, lips pulling back to show sharp teeth.
If Atalier's eyes had gotten any wider, his eyeballs would have popped out for all the cold gut flipping his stomach was doing. He was here having a half-decent conversation with a giant lioness when this interruption came about and flipped the table right on top of him. Atalier sprang up to his feet just when the finger came pointed up to him.
He put his hands out, and he shook his head fiercely. "NO!" he was quick to reply. "I don't know what's going on! I came here alone, I swear!"
"They're coming in droves. Looks like they already know where they're going too," Adeyemi panted, breathing only now evening out and he glared at Atalier. His kind weren't welcome here, and the very fact that Chephirah had one of these smooth-skins in her presence was troubling.
"Chephirah!" Atalier murmured when he tried to step forward. Adeyemi released a low throated growl and moved to stand beside his mother. "Please! The both of you, let me help. I don't know who they are, but if they're headed for here, it's not under good intentions. I swear to you on my honor that I came through here by myself."
Chephirah's eyes narrowed as she regarded Atalier, and they didn't leave his eyes for a long, hard minute. She wanted to suspect him, to blame him; it would be simpler that way. But his surprise and fear seemed smelled genuine, his body language guiltless. Either he was a very good actor--something she doubted--or he was telling the truth.
Which meant the truth of the matter was far more complicated, and troubling. It would have been an easy answer if he'd lead the humans to them. If he didn't...how did they find them and what did they want?
Nothing good, if history was anything to go off of, and Atalier confirmed that.
She relaxed a little, covering her teeth. "I believe him. For now," she said, giving him a warning look. "Let's give him a chance to prove himself. I'll kill him myself if he's lying."
Adeyemi let out an exasperated sound, not liking that a bit, but she cut him off. "Gather the lionesses. Get them moving. Leave our things behind, there's no time. We'll go south, head to the old territory."
While Adeyemi reluctantly obeyed, she turned back to Atalier. "How do you plan on helping?"