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The council chamber was finally silent, void of the echoes of growls and grumbling. The last of Mi’ytiar’s warriors had departed a few minutes ago, their heavy footfalls fading into complete stillness. The torches along the stone walls burned low and their light cast long shadows across the floor. Heat from the central brazier had bled into the ground, warming his feet as he remained where he had been for the entire meeting. His gauntleted hand rested on the arm of his chair, claws tapping against the stone.
He exhaled a long breath, his chest expanding. The day had been filled with disputes over territory, reports from scouting parties, arguments about the training of Unblooded, who were so eager for glory, and Elders voicing their distaste for the visit of an upcoming clan, whose leader was as dishonorable as a Bad Blood.
Leadership had never frightened him. It was a burden he understood, and one he carried with discipline and purpose. But it was hard when he yearned to be somewhere completely different.
At last, he rose, his towering form unfolding from his seat. He left the council chamber and stepped into the cooling air that announced nightfall with the suns already disappearing behind the mountain chain. The sky deepened into darker hues of blue and purple, and the first stars flickered faintly into view.
Even with his duties finished for the day, on his way home, his people still came forward to either voice concerns, request something, or simply offer praise and gratitude.
His position in the clan never changed, no matter the time. He would always be the fierce warrior to turn to, the hunter to rely on, the leader who had been shaped by blood. And yet, beneath it all, there was something else now. Something new, something that was still sometimes so overwhelming that he doubted it was indeed real.
Two months ago, his life had taken a turn he had long given up hoping for. He still remembered how you, his little human, had screamed through the pain as you pushed new life into this world. He had expected nothing, even when Cahrein had told him almost a year ago that the impossible had happened, and you were pregnant. He had already made peace with loss, another confirmation of the fate he had accepted long before he became a leader.
Instead, he was handed a small weight, warm and breathing, with wiggling arms and a mouth crying before it could even open its eyes.
Akail.
A son.
His son.
His steps slowed as he approached the path leading to his home. The obsidian stone steps leading up were warmed by the day’s heat. Once he was at the top, he saw the Hellhounds lounging in front of the entrance. They sprang up and tried to tackle him, but a gruff command barked at them and they stopped, obediently sitting down.
The door recognized the signal coming from his gauntlet and the mechanisms opened the heavy metal with a swish. Familiar warmth spilled out and enveloped him, carrying the scents of fire, milk, and his mate. The central room was dimly lit, woven hides layered across the floor made the cold stone underneath more comfortable for your soft feet to walk on, the long table in the middle was decorated with the usual array of trophies, but also fresh flowers and, newly, toys for a pup. The walls were lined with his trophies and only recently, you had added a woven tapestry, a Yautja and a human facing each other and holding hands woven together into a picture of devotion and love. The doors of the map room, weapons room, and hallway leading to the bedroom and nursery were all closed, but he could hear your voice coming from the door of the hallway.
He quickly walked through it, the door to the bedroom sliding open once he was close enough, and stopped right there on the threshold to take in the view. You, his beautiful mate, were sitting right there on the nest where you had given birth only two months ago. Your back was partially turned towards him and one leg was folded underneath you. Akail was in your arms, head cushioned by your breast, and his face was turned upward, his half-lidded eyes following the movement of your mouth as you cooed at him.
You seemed to notice his gaze on you as you lifted your head and an instant smile graced your lips.
“You’re back.” You beamed, shifting your pup in your arms.
You greeted him with a kiss to his forehead when he lowered himself onto the nest with careful slowness of someone aware of his size, one forearm braced as he settled on his side beside you. The materials shifted and groaned beneath his weight, and the scent of your home — the woven hides, the fire of the fireplace around your nest, you and Akail — wrapped around him like a second skin.
Mi’ytair purred in response, nuzzling his face into the side of your head, mandibles tangling in your hair. “Long day.” He rumbled at last, his voice low and unhurried. “Vicxen argue over borders that not shift in generations. Two hunters return wounded from northern cliffs, careless in their pride. Ba’avuu demand more weapons forged, weapons we no need.”
You hummed softly in response, your attention still on your son, and absently stroked along his back. He stirred faintly and a small sound left his mouth before he settled again, purring at your touch.
“He was very busy today.” You started after a moment, sounding amused. “He discovered his limbs. It took him an hour to realize that if he stops kicking his feet, he is actually able to catch them. He struggled a lot at first and got frustrated really quickly, but he didn’t cry once.” You chuckled. “He also rolled onto his tummy. All on his own! One moment I put him down on his back to grab his blanket and in the next, I turn around and this little rascal was looking at me, lying on his belly. And he looked very proud of himself. That smug look is definitely your doing.”
Mi’ytiar straightened a little and let out a deep, resonant sound, half purr and half disbelieving breath. “He turned?” He asked and dropped his gaze to his son, almost expecting that the two-month-old would demonstrate his mother’s words.
He reached out and when his hand was close enough, Akail grabbed one of its fingers.
“So soon.” Mi’ytiar grunted, his chest expanding for a long, proud huff. “He will become strong warrior.”
“Just like his papa.” You added with a cheeky smile.
Mi’ytiar’s mandibles flared subtly at the compliment and he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing yours. A thrilling sound rumbled from deep within his chest when he felt Akail’s grip tighten around his finger and you glanced at your mate, catching the unguarded look on his face.
“You still look like you barely can believe that he is actually real.” You commented, your voice soft despite the teasing note in it.
“I believe fate turn her back on me.” He admitted, suddenly sounding vulnerable. “That I was not meant to leave behind more than body and title.” His eyes flicked back to you, intense and unyielding. “You change that.”
If it were humanly possible, you would have melted like ice cream in the summer sun.
“You changed a few things, too, for me.” You told him gently and placed your free hand on his cheek, thumb stroking the soft, scaly skin. “Back then, you saved me from a fate worse than death and then death itself, too. And you made me a mother despite not wanting any children for so long. Because it was you. You’re the only one for me, my love, and I would be crazy not wanting pups with you.”
Your affirmation elicited a growl of satisfaction from him and his chest puffed out.
Finally, Mi’ytiar allowed himself to let the last remnants of the day loosen their grip on him. He shifted his weight and settled completely on his back, face towards the ceiling and eyes falling shut to wallow in the peace of his home. One arm rested at his side and the other folded loosely across his stomach, claws relaxed rather than ready. Like this, he was unguarded in a way he would never permit himself anywhere else in the whole universe, but here — within the boundaries of his den, with you close and the pup safe and sound — he didn’t feel the need to remain vigilant.
You watched him as he lay there, your eyes softening as the tension bled from his posture.
Your attention didn’t remain on your mate for long as Akail stirred against you, responding to the shift of your focus no longer being on him. His small body pressed more insistently against your chest and a coo escaped him as his fingers flexed and curled in search. His eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first, pupils widening as they adjusted to the light of the chamber. He blinked once, then again.
You were already on it to soothe him back to sleep, but Akail was far too distracted by his father to react to your attempts. The moment his gaze had landed on Mi’ytiar sprawled close to him on the nest, you got demoted to second-rate interest.
Akail made another sound, higher than the sleepy one earlier, and caused Mi’ytiar to open his eyes and turn his head towards the pup. Mi’ytiar’s mandibles parted as he let out a low growl to which Akail replied with a series of enthusiastic clicks and babbles, his limbs wriggling with sudden determination. He squirmed relentlessly in your arms, frustration building as he pushed against the confines of your hold.
Mi’ytiar didn’t move to intervene and instead just observed his son trying to fight his way out of his mother’s loving embrace with single-minded focus. Akail eventually twisted his body enough so that you had little choice but to set him down onto the nest. The moment his hands made contact with solid ground, he paused only briefly before beginning his unsteady journey, movements clumsy but purposeful, straight towards his father.
Mi’ytiar remained perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with bated breath as Akail closed the distance and started climbing over his father’s thigh, gripping the skin there with surprising strength. He hauled himself upward with a small, triumphant sound and scrambled higher, hands, knees, and shins supported by his father’s torso. Once he reached the chest, he perched himself squarely on top of it, sitting upright with a wobble that would be comical if it wasn’t so incredibly precious.
Mi’ytiar exhaled with a deep, resonant sound that vibrated beneath Akail and sent the pup into a fit of delighted squeals. “There.” He rumbled softly. “You conquer me.”
Akail answered by leaning forward, grabbing onto his father’s top mandibles with uncoordinated enthusiasm, and tugging on them. Hard. Instantly, Mi’ytiar winced.
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” You scolded gently and scooted towards your son to carefully loosen his grip. “We don’t do that, Akail. That’s bad. Very bad. You’re hurting Daddy.”
The pup looked up at you before turning back to Mi’ytiar and resuming his “talk”, tiny hands now safely supporting the equally small weight on the broad mass of muscle of Mi’ytiar’s chest. Akail babbled at him incessantly, clicks and chirps tumbling over one another as if he had too much to say and no time. Spittle dampened Mi’ytiar’s chest, but he didn’t care. He simply lifted one hand to steady the pup when his eagerness made him sway and almost knock him off balance, and listened intently to what the tiny creature was “talking” about, occasionally grunting in agreement.
Sitting on the sidelines, you were swooning. You wanted to grab them and smother them with your happiness for how adorable both of them were. You also wanted to give your mate ten more pups for how good he was as a father and for making up all those decades he was denied fathering any offspring. The thought that Mi’ytiar had made peace with never ever having pups and that his name would end with him broke your heart every time it haunted your mind. And all it took was a small human woman, an abduction and 60 years for the miracle to happen that now sat on his chest.
Eventually, it got quiet as Akail’s excitement wore down and he lowered himself until his body was pressing down against his father, cheek squished against scaled skin as his babbling dissolved into softer coos. His finger curled against Mi’ytiar’s chest, claws catching briefly on skin before releasing again, his breathing evening out. His father’s hand was still curved protectively around his back to ensure he didn’t slide off.
Mi’ytiar’s gaze lifted from his son to his mate. You were still watching them, propped comfortably against the rise of the nest, hands in your lap where Akail had abandoned you. The glow of the fire pit around the nest warmed your skin and painted it golden.
“You look less tired today.” He observed with a rumble.
You chuckled. “I feel less tired but trapped nonetheless. I love our home, but if I think about lying down for one more day, I will actually riot.”
Mi’ytiar’s mandibles twitched with something that might be amusement. “You mean to rest. Your body needs time.”
“I know.” You replied with a huff. “And I did. But keeping me tied to one single object-” You used your pointer finger to draw circles in the air, pointing at the nest. “-is ridiculous. Although less ridiculous than you still insisting on having to sleep on the edge of it because you’re afraid of crushing me. The pup is out and right there. No need to treat me like I’m made of glass.” You added, pointing to Akail grabbing one of Mi’ytiar’s dreads and chewing on the fleshy texture with his gums.
Mi’ytiar only hummed in acknowledgment as he gently eased the black tendril out of his pup’s mouth. His eyes darted past you and toward the large window. The light filtering in had changed from when he had entered home to now. The glow had softened and the harshness of the day had eased as Yautja Prime tilted towards evening. The color of the sky had deepened into dark blues and indigo. The first stars had begun to grace the horizon, still faint but persistent, while other celestial bodies like moons and another planet sharpened their outlines by the darkness. In the distance, nocturnal creatures would start to stir soon and their calls would echo outside of the abode.
He looked back at you, then. You were watching Akail again and how he tested the sharpness of the tiny hooks that were his claws on Mi’ytiar’s chest, which Mi’ytiar barely felt. Still too soft at two months of life. His eyes darted from the sparkle of your eyes and the color of your cheeks to your lips that were stretched into a wide smile. You looked like you again after the much-needed time of healing Cahrein had doomed you to, face soft and full of life once more. But he knew you well enough to know the restlessness brewing under your skin. You wanted to move, wanted to breathe different air, wanted to feel the stone and earth of the outside underneath your feet.
He shifted closer to you, adjusting Akail on top of him so he remained comfortably seated, and reached out toward you, his claw brushing against your knee. “It gets darker outside.” He started with a rumble and traced slow circles on your skin. “Cooler air. Quieter.” He glanced down at Akail, who looked at him at the sound of his voice. “Will do him good. And you, yawne.”
The invitation was clear: let’s go outside and enjoy the peace of an evening walk.
Mi’ytiar didn’t need answer to his suggestion from you, your eyes lightning up with excitement being all he needed.
You quickly jumped out of the nest and groaned once you felt the stiffness of your muscles protesting when you stood on your two feet. It eased as you flitted around the room to put on something more suited for a walk than the thin, see-through garment you dressed for sleep in. You went through a creation that Mi’ytiar had interpreted as a human closet when he had built it for you and picked garments that were light, designed for movement and comfort, but no less stunning for a human Matriarch. The silken fabric was long and cool to the touch, the pale color shimmering silver as you held it against your body while looking in the mirror, complementating if you should go with this one or rather look for something darker.
Meanwhile, Mi’ytiar was quietly watching you, eyes following your every move, from your face changing when you decided to go with the silver dress to taking off your nightie and putting it on. He had remained on the nest, now sitting upright with the small weight of his son in his hands, wiggling, but he was too focused on the fabric gliding down your torso and your thighs until it pooled at your feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the voice of a warrior was screaming about respect and restraint, but those values had long since dulled where you were concerned.
You were soft where he was hard, small where he was massive, alien where he was home, yet you moved unbothered and with confidence wherever you went. You moved like you were born to be Matriarch, to be by his side, to be his. A human woman, stubborn and bright and so infuriatingly brave, who had softened but not ever weakened him. Soft hands, a sharp mind, and a body that took him, endured him, and then did the impossible.
His finger flexed unconsciously without tightening around Akail and putting too much pressure on his small body as he watched the dress clinging where your body had changed and loosening where it hadn’t, skimming over the gentle swell of your belly that still hadn’t fully faded after bearing his pup. Desire coiled low and hot in his gut, a reminder that neither leadership nor fatherhood could dull the effect you had on him. If anything, it had sharpened it. He wanted you with the same ferocity he always had, wanted to pull you against him and remind you that you belonged to him, with every breath and every heartbeat.
Mine.
The thought was instinctive, possessive in the way only something hard-earned could be. And he had earned it through decades of patience, from the moment he heard your distressed screams in that alley to the night 29 years ago when you told him you were ready to go further than just exploring each other’s bodies with hands, mouths, and tongues. It wasn’t ownership he felt — never that, Gods forbid — but a fierce, bone-deep certainty that fate, the universe, destiny, whatever it was, finally did something right when you were placed into his path. You could ask him to kneel and he would without hesitation. You moved through his life like a silent conqueror, never needing to raise a weapon or demand submission loudly, yet still completely owning him.
He took a deep, rumbling breath to keep himself from lunging at you and ripping the fabric off again, which took all of his strength. He had to remember that you gave birth to his pup not long ago and that your body still bore the strain of it as you tied the strings of your silken robe. So, all he could do for now was watch.
He would have marveled at your beauty for hours if not a certain someone drew his attention onto him, the tiny weight in his arms squirming impatiently. Akail was quickly changed into wrappings crafted to preserve the warmth much needed for a pup of his age. The fabric was smooth against his still soft-scaled skin that was yet to harden with time, a cloth that took you 23 tries in total until it didn’t look like rags that survived every possible natural catastrophe. You had been very determined to get it perfect while your belly rounded every day. The withering look you had sent him when he had tried to gently pry the fabrics and tools from your already chafed fingers and suggested you should give it to the Females who knew the methods blindly had shut him up quickly. To make it up to you, he brought you to a den filled with Females who, for the sake of their unborn pups, stepped down from hunting until they were due.
It had been astounding for you to witness. Female Yautja were fierce and dangerous warriors, but here they were, only mothers or mothers-to-be who left their wildness outside the den for the last stages of their pregnancies. You had felt at ease, especially with the clan’s treatment towards you improving day by day since the news of their leader’s offspring growing in your belly. Where you had struggled with the pregnancy and impending motherhood, they had helped you through it and offered advice whenever you seemed clueless. One of them, V’vicra, had even helped you with the wrappings.
Your 23rd attempt had seemed to be a success as Akail made only a little fuss when Mi’ytiar adjusted the ties before handing him to you. The pup wriggled against the bindings, protesting mildly with soft clicks, but was soothed when your lips brushed his forehead. One hand escaped the confines of the wrappings to grab a strand of your hair, gurgling when he tugged on it.
You placed Akail against your chest, head tucked underneath your chin, and Mi’ytiar rose to his feet, unfolding to his full height and towering shamelessly over you. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades and stirred you out of the bedroom, into the hallway and to the big door leading outside while you were still busy adjusting Akail so he was completely comfortable.
The door opened with a low hiss and cool air greeted you, brushing your bare arms and carrying with it the scent of clan life and the surrounding wilderness. You eagerly sucked in a breath of the freshness and exhaled loudly in a pleased sigh.
God, you had missed this. Not only moving outside your house or breathing in the mix of home, your mate and your pup, but the view. The suns were long gone, the sky had deepened its color, and the stars shone brighter now. The structures carved from the same obsidian as your home, the banners bearing the clan’s markings hanging from stone walls, fires burning all over the settlement in the designated fireplaces, silhouettes moving all over the place — the sight of it all rushed through your veins like ecstasy.
Mi’ytiar guided you forward with that steady hand on your back. The stone beneath your feet was still warm as you took your first steps outside. You were immediately greeted by the Hellhounds, rumbling barks emitting from their chest, and their excitement would have knocked you off your feet with their attempts to jump up on you if Mi’ytiar hadn’t commanded them to stay down with a roar. They instantly cowered, but were no less happy to see you. You bent down and with utter care and Be'jaa, Vohtu and Gihn'tha drew closer again to sniff all over the pup in your arms, Gihn'tha licking a big stripe across the scrunched-up face. You tutted him, an amused laugh following shortly after, and wiped the slobber away with your dress.
The Hounds stayed put, going back to guarding, as Mi’ytiar pulled you gently towards the stairs leading to a path that branched off into more paths, all winding between dens and communal areas.
Everything felt quieter at this hour. Fewer Yautja were on the move, fewer sharp voices or ringing laughs. Instead, the air was filled with the crackle of fire, the low murmur of conversations of the few people who enjoyed the evening air just like you did, and the faint chime of ornaments swaying in the gentle breeze.
Akail stirred against your chest, his head shifting slightly before lifting it from underneath your chin to look around. You and Mi’ytiar instantly slowed your pace to give him time to take everything in. It was his first time being outside, after all, and getting to know what was beyond the walls of your home might be overwhelming. A big reason to do this in the evening was that the clan life was settling down when it got darker. The crowd and the noises and scents would overwork his sensitive senses and ruin the experience altogether. Like this, Akail was voluntarily pushing himself up and away from the safety he found cuddled against your chest to look around eagerly.
A pair of hunters passed by first. Their armor was partially stripped as the day was coming to an end and they needn’t be on alert so much. They stopped when they noticed their leader and his mate, and their eyes instantly locked onto the small, curious face of the pup in your arms looking back at them. They bowed their head in greeting while one of them commented that Akail already looked like he would become a mighty warrior. Mi’ytiar’s chest swelled with pride at that.
Your little family went on with your walk and passed clusters of stone dwellings lit from within by warm, flickering light. A few clan members lingered outside their homes, some pausing mid-sentence when they saw you and your mate coming closer. An Elder Female approached slowly as her gaze landed on Akail before lifting to you.
“It is so good to see you on your feet. We miss you in meetings, Matriarch.” She said, husky voice low.
You smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I’m eager to leave the house, but a certain someone is pushing me to rest for another week and then another week and so on.” You huffed, side-eyeing your mate, who was currently talking to two other Yautja. “But I will be there at the next one. Akail will be with the other pups to entertain himself.” You added, lifting him a little to empathize your words.
The Female looked at the little pup, who was playing with his mother’s hair. “He look like his father.” She nodded to herself. “I know, from moment he viciously roared when he saw light of day-”
You tried to hide your grin as the “vicious roar” had just been a glass-shattering, high-pitched cry.
“-that he become great hunter, strong and fervent.”
You could only quickly bid your goodbyes when Mi’ytiar’s hand suddenly reappeared on your back, seemingly finished with his conversation, and stirred you further on your way.
The farther you walked, the darker the sky grew and you couldn’t stop your head from lifting to look up to the stars, trusting Mi’ytiar to not let you walk into something. The glittering lights stretched endlessly and formed constellations you had learned through time and thanks to your mate, who told you their names and meaning.
You reached the border of the clan grounds, and the path grew less crafted by hand and more natural. The warm light of the fires faded with every step and gave way to the moonlight. Out here, the air felt different. It was cooler, cleaner, and it carried the faint scent of the night-blooming flora. Once again, you had to trust Mi’ytair’s guidance as you watched in awe how the blossoms opened, revealing arrays of colors and shapes. You quickly turned Akail to let him witness the beauty all around you, too.
Mi’ytiar stirred you on, unimpressed by the nature of his home planet from seeing it every night in the last 187 years, though endeared by his mate as you treated it like it was your first time every time, and walked down the familiar path. He had walked it alone many times before you even existed, after hunts, after disputes with his council and after nights when sleep avoided him. It led away from the noises, the expectations, the pressures, and to a place where he felt closer to the sky and where the stars seemed to lean down to listen to him.
The terrain opened up and revealed a broad, elevated outcropping of stone that overlooked the vastness that this part of Yautja Prime had to offer — forests taking up all of it with mountain chains rising from the ground in the distance, waterfalls running down their grey edges and probably pooling into larger water bodies; a planet, Yiulk, you visited whenever you felt like hunting yourself, was so close now that you could see the weather situation on the its surface; the hues that reminded you of the Northern Lights you read about in one of the books at school flowed right above you in white and gold.
Mi’ytiar slowed to a stop near the edge and took his hand from your back only to lower himself onto the stone and pull you into his lap by your hips. You let out a squeal that bled into a laugh when his chest pressed against your back and you adjusted Akail in your arm, who had gone quiet as his eyes wandered all over the place. Mi’ytiar watched him whip his head back and forth, up and down, and released a low, content sound from deep within his chest before he tilted his head up, lifting one clawed finger to point up in the sky. The movement was deliberate and slow, so his son could easily follow it.
In a deep and low voice, he started to explain, “That one, Akail. You see how it curve? Like blade.” He rumbled, claw drawing in the air along the line of the stars, connecting the constellation slowly, one by one. “That K’thara. First Hunter. It is said he carve his path across sky after death, so descendants never walk in darkness with no guidance.”
Akail watched the finger of his father moving around above him in awe, pupils widening when his eyes focused on the glittering lights past his hand. A small sound left his mouth, curious and high, his body wiggling in his wrappings.
Mi’ytair’s chest vibrated with a sound of satisfaction. “K’thara watch over who leave safety of clan. Hunter, merchant.” His gaze dipped briefly to you before he looked back to the sky. “And there.” He continued, pointing to another constellation. “Three Sisters. Mothers who lay down their weapons to protect their pups. It is said that they burnt themselves into sky so no hatchling be born unseen.” He murmured, more towards you than his son, his arm tightening around you.
Nonetheless, Akail let out a soft click, his other hand escaping his wrappings to reach out to the stars with grabby hands. You felt Mi’ytiar’s chest rumble as he laughed and one of his hands came around you to rest on Akail’s belly.
“There are many stories.” He added. “Some warnings, some promises, but all reminders. We look at stars to remember who we are and who we come from.”
He pointed at a few other constellations, telling their names and talking about their meanings. He knew each and every one of them by heart and his voice was so soothing that you needed to rest your head against his chest while your eyes grew heavier.
Then, when Mi’ytair seemed to run out of stories to tell, there was only the sound of the wildlife active at night, chirps and hoots and thumping. Akail had settled back against your chest, comforted by the soft melody created by nature that mixed with your steady heartbeat. You murmured softly to him, stroking his back, and Mi’ytiar leaned forward, his mandibles brushing the hair on top of your head. He adjusted his hold with care and shifted to support your and Akail’s weight a little better. The air had cooled down even further, causing goosebumps to break out on your arms, and although Akail was well-wrapped, he felt the need to get him home and into the warmth of his crib.
“Home?” He asked as his hand came up to grasp your chin and tilt your head back so he could see your face, cheeks flushed and eyes fighting to stay open.
You hummed softly in return and let him lift you from his lap onto your feet. Once you were steady, face nuzzling into Akail’s head, he rose as well and gently gripped the back of your neck to help you to navigate the way back home. Akail had completely surrendered to sleep and made small, blubbering noises that made you melt. You kissed his forehead lovingly and whispered sweet nothings to him.
As the first lights of the clan grounds came back into view, Mi’ytiar bent down towards you and purred, “Nearly home.”
You nodded with a yawn and he chuckled lowly, hiding his face in your hair, the soft strands caressing the skin of his face, breathing in your scent. He was about to comment on how adorable your scrunched-up nose was while yawning when he felt it — an old, honed awareness crawling up his spine and tightening around his shoulders; an instinct every hunter living long enough developed over years and decades through experience.
He slowed his pace, letting go of you, and looked to his right, where only the sight of large stones and bushes greeted him. You had walked a few steps ahead before your sleep-addled brain caught up with the fact that the heavy warmth of Mi’ytiar’s hand had disappeared. You turned to ask him what was wrong, but he simply lifted a hand before you could get a word out.
The feeling worsened and his mandibles flared out, his back hunching and his stance widening, but before he could tell you to run, a huge form lunged over the stones, all teeth and spiny limbs and a ridged back.
All you could do was turn your back in order to run back to the border, protecting your pup being all on your mind, only for a sharp pain to explode where claws tore through your dress and skin. You weren’t even able to scream with how harsh the impact was of it jumping on you, knocking any air from your lungs. You only noticed the lack of a tiny weight in your arms when you landed flat on your front on the ground and Akail’s small voice started wailing somewhere ahead of you. Head snapping towards the noise, you didn’t waste time, uncaring of the beast now turning its attention to the wiggling bundle, to pull yourself towards your pup, no matter the pain or the blood. Akail’s cries gave you enough adrenaline to throw yourself over him just as the beast lunged at you again. You felt claws again, felt how they dug into your skin, how they left another mark on you, but that was all it did because suddenly, the danger was gone.
Mi’ytiar had gripped the tail of the beast and yanked it off you, finally having you back in his sight where the beast’s size had obscured you. It only needed one look — you, bleeding, curled around his pup to selflessly shield him with your own body — to unleash the raging, bloodthirsty monster that slumbered within him for far too long.
He just snapped.
The world narrowed until his only focus was on the beast. Mi’ytiar’s chest expanded violently as a roar tore from him, raw and thunderous. His fury would have shaken the whole ground with how it rolled across the land, echoing into the distance, and carried far beyond the borders of the clan grounds. Patrols would hear it and his warriors would come, but that was not something he cared for at the moment.
The beast screeched as Mi’ytiar ripped it around by its tail, claws scrabbling uselessly against the ground as it was swung around and crashed into a rock hard enough to crack the whole thing into two pieces. Mi’ytiar moved deliberately between his family and the best, ears catching the pained groans of his mate and your shushing and soothing words to his son, who was still crying, and it twisted something in his chest that hurt more than the Bad Blood’s dagger in his side as a freshly Blooded or the teeth of an A’actox ripping into his leg.
The beast growled at him as it got back onto its feet and Mi’ytiar’s mandibles flared, tusks spread wide, to respond with another blood-curdling roar. It lunged again and he met it head-on. He charged, uncaring that he only had the blade in the holster at his hip as a weapon, and slammed into it with bone-crushing force. The claws of his one hand sank into its hide while the other swiftly unsheathed the blade and slammed it into the beast’s belly, eliciting a pained shriek from it. The beast trashed in his hold and the spikes adorning its back scratched all over Mi’ytiar’s arms and shoulders, not yet deep enough to draw blood. But he didn’t care. He grabbed its jaw, pried it open with sheer strength until he felt the jaw break and slammed the head into the ground, once, twice, until the earth was stained dark and wet.
Roars echoed somewhere behind him, gradually coming closer.
His people.
But once they were close enough to take in the scene, he bellowed, “Back! This one mine!”
The command was absolute. The approaching warriors halted instantly and stood their ground, only two leaving the group to pick up his son and you, who seemed to have passed out, up from the ground and bring you back to the others for safety. This enabled Mi’ytiar to stop worrying about how to keep the beast away from you and Akail and to fight with no restraints.
The beast tried to rake him again, now out of pure desperation, and Mi’ytiar answered by gripping the blade still stuck in its belly once he was close enough again, dragging it upwards to its chest, cutting it open, and driving his arm into the open gash until his hand closed around the heart before ripping it out. The beast crumbled to the floor at the same time Mi’ytiar crushed its heart in his fist with a snarl.
He didn’t wallow in victory for long. He was immediately in front of the Male holding you, eyes darting quickly to the one holding his pup before turning his attention back to you. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold you or let you be held by someone whose hands weren’t sullied, but you made that choice for him when you came to yourself again and the first thing on your mind was to reach out to him with a sob. Instantly, you were scooped up by the familiar warmth and strength of his hands that were so careful with holding you without touching your back. He felt your stiffening in his embrace and struggle as you tried to straighten in his hold, head frantically turning back and forth.
“Calm, yawne, calm.” He purred, gently grasping your chin and pointing your face to the Male holding the small pup. “Right there.” He nuzzled into the side of your head. “So proud of you. Protecting our pup so bravely.”
You could only smile weakly, though your eyes were fixed on Akail. Even when Mi’ytiar gave the order to return and when he told you that he needed to get you to Cahrein as fast as possible to tend to your wounds, all on your mind was your son. You wondered if he was hurt, if he was bleeding, if he broke a bone from the impact to the ground. He seemed to be alright there in the warrior’s cre. He was now wide awake from the rude wake-up, had stopped crying and gurgled to himself, not minding at all that he was held by a stranger.
You tried to keep your mind calm, tried to keep it from overthinking as your surroundings blurred together into shapes and shadows. You pressed your face into Mi’ytiar’s chest when you felt dizzy and instead focused on his thundering heartbeat, probably still running wild from adrenaline.
“Almost home.” He whispered into your hair.
And true to his words, even though with your face hidden, you noticed the change, the warmth and the light. Warriors that had stayed back scattered when their leader barreled towards them to make room. Mi’ytiar was just able to bark at the Male who carried his pup to take him to the mothers in the maternal den to watch him for the time being before he turned a sharp right, closer now to where Cahrein was probably already waiting.
He did not stop until you were inside the healer’s den and placed on the examination table, Cahrein already telling him to roll you onto your side to inspect the damage on your back. The sharp smell of crushed herbs and the spice of chemicals were strangely soothing, but Mi’ytair’s purring close to your ear made you almost smile. That was until Cahrein had to move the torn fabric of your dress that stuck to your skin thanks to your blood. You cried out in agony, your body curling away from the healer’s touch, but Mi’ytiar held your body down.
“Hrrm.” Cahrein hummed. “Marks are deep. Clean, at least.”
Mi’ytiar only growled at him, seemingly impatient.
“Easy.” You chided him, breathless once the pain had passed. “Cahrein is only doing his job, my love.”
“Not fast enough.” He replied sharply, mandibles flaring, and fixed the healer with an angry glare. “My mate is hurt! Do something!”
Cahrein bowed his head, not phased at all by his leader’s aggressive demand, and began cleaning the wounds. They were long, reaching from your left shoulder to your right hip, four lines, and then from the base of your neck to your waist on the left, also four lines. They would heal easily, maybe even disappear completely, but it would take time. And it would hurt immensely.
Mi’ytiar held you through it when Cahrein applied the quickly mixed gel on your wounds and when you screamed at the burn. He also held you when you passed out when the events of the past two hours finally took their toll on you. And he held you when he took you home, carefully bathed you and tucked you into the nest. He stayed by your side for a minute longer before he got up to pick up Akail. The mothers probably took great care of him, there was no doubt, but Mi’ytiar knew that the pup needed the familiarity of his home after today’s events.
“Wait for me.” He purred lowly, hand lovingly stroking your cheek. “I be back soon to follow you in your dreams.”