He was protecting you, Tree said.
She pressed her forehead against his impossibly soft pelt, letting her tears fall freely. The body of the other cheroush was sprawled out near her, just as still. Anger speared her. Yes, her daughter had other concerns to attend, like the wellbeing of her mate, but she had not even sent someone out here to fetch her companion?
The rustling of Tree’s agitation in the back of her mind was all the agreement she needed.
She turned her attention back to Murial, stroking a hand over his wings, admiring the iridescent coloration in the sunlight. When she slid her fingers beneath one of his wings, she felt the unexpected rise and fall of his ribs under her touch and jerked her hand back. With a soft cry she pulled him against her chest and held him close, checking for more wounds.
Tree’s voice was quiet. The fall knocked him out. He needs a quiet place to recover. The other has some scratches but he should recover as well.
“You could have told me that before I cried myself out,” Veronica muttered as she tore another strip from her skirt to make a sling to carry Murial. After a moment of thought she made a second sling and transferred Kerkardo into it.
It is common for cheroush to withdraw from their bonded partner when they go into battle. It hurts to break the contact, but it is nothing compared to the horror of feeling one of them die with the link still attached. That leads to madness. Your Murial thought to spare you any bleed-through of his emotions or pain. I, too, was removed from him, until you touched him.
The two limp bodies weren’t very heavy, and the slings nicely balanced what little weight they had. It was the bulk of their tails and wings that was awkward.
Neither her daughter nor her proxy ever came to seek out her hurt cheroush. Even after Veronica had spent time crafting the cat-bird bjorns and the day faded toward dusk. She was still the worried mother who gave her the benefit of the doubt, but a growing part of her was influenced by the tree and was disappointed in Tiffany’s choices.
Tree directed her to the lake and she made slow progress across the grassy field, barefoot, with her precious cargo. Her gown, once floor length was now a mini-skirt. Good thing for her everyone here went naked anyway. It was freeing to be comfortable in her own skin.
She found a spot under a tree unclaimed by the mix of Centauri and Jahtauri females. They regarded her curiously but aside from friendly greetings they didn’t intrude on her as she arranged her charges. A few carefully selected tufts of grasses, some particular water plants and a selection of herbs chosen by the tree completed her makeshift recovery station.
Once she had the two in their own nests and went off to gather grass for herself. She’d be damned if she asked her daughter for help after the reception she’d received and A’pone’s rejection had made it clear she wouldn’t be welcome at his tent, either.
So, lakeside camping and cold wash it was.
It was dark when she settled into the rushes, nibbling on one of the acorns. She counted her dwindling supply as she curled closer to the cheroush to use her body as warmth. Food would become an issue soon, but hopefully she could find a way to barter her skills for goods.
Tree was unconcerned about future plans. It will all work out.
For a long time she lay watching the sliver of the moonrise. Her thoughts turned to A’pone and her heart and body yearned toward him. She wished he’d come to find her. They could make things right between them again and she could kiss him under the light of the waxing spring moon.
She didn’t sleep well, waking at every strange night sound, heart beating.
A’pone didn’t come for her.
* * *
Murial was cuddled against her chest when she woke the next morning, his claws hooked into the front of her dress. His loud purring vibrated through her sternum the moment her eyelids lifted and his golden eyes locked onto hers.
The warm rush of his joyous reunion with her made her burst into happy tears.
I told you I would not leave you, he said indignantly before butting the top of his head against her cheek. His happiness bubbled over, liquid sunlight poured into her until it drove out all the shadows except the spot where A’pone should be.
Tree greeted Murial with a quiet, You have been missed. Please attempt to avoid doing that again.
She was one step closer to being whole.
I have a hunger.
It was as though his brush with death had never happened. She offered him an acorn and had one for herself and then checked on Kerkardo but he was still sleeping.
Murial watched her adjusting his nest without rancor. Will he be all right?
“I hope so. The tree seems to think he’ll recover, so we’ll just keep an eye on him.”
Her cheroush burbled and fluttered into the nest and cuddled beside the larger cat-bird. I will guard. He curled his tail around the other as his jaws cracked open wide in a powerful yawn, complete with a weak twinkle of sparkles.
“By guard you mean nap. Gotcha.” Veronica laughed.
Murial’s eyes were already closed but he chirped sleepily in agreement.
The day passed without any change in Kerkardo’s condition.
She bathed, cleaned her dress and gathered herbs as directed by Tree.
No one came asking after Kerkardo.
Not even her daughter.
A’pone didn’t seek her out, either.
Of course not. Why would he?
Her heart was a heavy stone that alternated between feeling stuck in her throat or settled deep within the pit of her stomach.
At least keeping busy helped. She traded her herbal blend that eased headaches and menstrual symptoms for a length of fabric. It was white with a few minor stains but extremely soft. Leaving Murial to watch over the unconscious cheroush, she spent the morning collecting berries and a variety of the plentiful blue flowers growing in the meadow.
When she returned home, she found Murial grooming Kerkardo’s torn ear, crooning worriedly.
She sat beside the nest and Murial launched himself into her lap, uttering a distressed hiss. What if he does not wake? Why hasn’t his bonded come to attend him? You will not replace me.
The tree sent reassurance surging through their bond. It made Veronica feel a little better, too.
“He’ll wake up on his own terms. When he does, I am bringing him back to Tiffany and I’ll be having a conversation with her. He won’t be welcomed on my shoulder.” She stroked a knuckle along his upturned chin. “I learned my mistake after going through you and Tree claiming me.
The cheroush’s whisker’s curled around her fingers as he sniffed. Yes, Fine.
By that evening she had a length of dusky blue fabric hanging from a nearby tree to dry.
And more days passed in much the same way.
She got to know most of the women in the meadow because aside from the very high ranking, everyone came to the water—either to bathe or swim.
Or gossip.
This was where everyone came to get the latest news.
The variety of sizes, shapes, and colors delighted her. Sure, Centauri were horse-like and Jahtauri were feline-like but they were so much more than that. Coat colors ranged from black and dark bay to cream, silver, and white with every other color in between. The markings were just as complex—dapples, spots, freckles, mottled, rosettes, stripes, roans, tabianos, sabinos, blankets, overos, toveros, varnished or solid. The upper bodies were all builds from delicate to powerful and heights from small to giant. Skin tones, too, alabaster to flawless onyx.
So far she found everyone she’d met at the lake to be friendly and welcoming. Despite the animosity she’d witnessed between A’pone and K’lain, the two races got along great at the lakeside.
Everyone shared their adventures, hopes, and dreams for the coming spring and season beyond. The majority hoped to find their life partner.
She learned about the different tribes and the important members in each one. Who were already chieftains, and who wa
nted to be chieftains. Who wanted to be mated to a chieftain, and who didn’t. Who were the best-looking bachelors, the playboys, and the warriors. Who was kind, and who was ruthless.
For some reason the women were completely open with her.
Maybe because she was the vagrant, cripple woman by the lake, nursing the wounded cheroush.
Tree suggested that it was because she listened. And because the intuitive knew she was Te’acina. She could, after all, provide them with remedies to fix many of their ailments.
Well, Tree knew how.
Veronica was just the one with the thumbs to fetch and prepare the herbs.
Just wait until the festival is in full swing and everyone is looking for love potions or pregnancy boosters. The tree chuckled in a manner that was almost sinister.
Days passed slowly.
Nights were the absolute worst.
The spring moon taunted her. It hung in the sky, more swollen every evening, just like her longing for A’pone. It reminded her of the first time A’pone touched her. She played the memories of his hands in the dark forest and pleasured herself. Masturbation provided an empty relief. Those sensations were a mere shadow of the passions the centaur had shown her.
She needed to get him out of her system somehow. Maybe when the seasons changed? Maybe if she found another lover?
The idea of anyone else touching her wasn’t pleasurable.
He’d ruined her for another.
She woke before the sunrise on the third morning to the pathetic creeling of a distressed cheroush.
Murial, sensing her wakefulness flew to her and peered into her eyes as though his golden stare could make her get up faster. He lives.
“I can hear that. I think the whole camp can. Let me up.”
Maybe it will wake his bonded and she will trouble herself to come help him.
She avoided looking directly into the cheroush’s eyes but she was troubled by the distress he displayed. No one had to explain that he was confused as to why his companion wasn’t there upon his waking. How long had they been bound together? Given what the tree said about selections of such things, it wasn’t like he could just find someone else.
After an internal consult with the tree, she cracked one of her last acorns and gave it to Kerkardo. He swayed back and forth, gripping the golden kernel without seeming to see it.
“We’ll take you to your partner but you must eat that. All right?” She glanced to her own companion to see if he could help, but Kerkardo’s ears flattened back when Murial tried to come close to coax him to eat.
Apparently there were still some bad feelings about the fight.
From Kerkardo’s side at least.
Veronica sighed as she changed into the new clothes she’d made. Borrowing a few sewing items—sheers, needle, thread—primarily, she’d created a comfortable loin cloth and top.
She’d even cannibalized the jeweled beads from her evening down to accent the pieces. The acorn shells she’d saved hung on a simple braided fabric cord with the remaining bounty tucked into a pouch made of the same fabric as her new outfit.
It was amazing how much hand sewing she could get done when she didn’t have electricity.
She felt almost presentable.
What she wouldn’t give for a pair of sandals.
With difficulty she transferred Kerkardo into the bjorn. He certainly had additional injuries, but without reforming the link, nothing would do him any good. The poor creature was going to harm himself without that connection.
“Stay here, Murial. Watch the camp for me while I’m gone. I’ll call for you if I need you.”
He huffed, sending ripples of disappointment before throwing himself into his nest and flinging his tail across his muzzle. “Thank you.”
He sent out a wordless whisp of affection to her despite the physical sulk. In the back of her mind, his contact was a banked fire, warm and comforting.
She set out, crossing the meadow as the light began to color the black sky. Dew slicked her legs to her knees by the time she’d made it to the Jahtauri chieftain’s tent.
She’d heard a great many things about K’lain over the past few days. He had been a savage warrior in his youth. There had been many conflicts, not only the Jahtauri and Centauri but also with tribes neighboring the Shalour lands, K’lain’s family tribe. His father the Shalour chieftain, was reportedly the cause of most of the fighting because he wanted to control all the territories touching his. During his life he was never satisfied with the power he had. He always wanted more. He used his sons as weapons for that purpose.
K’lain only recently took control of his tribe. He’d apparently been gone for many years. Since his return he’d been working hard to amend the wrongs done by his father and some of his brothers in the name of the Shalour.
If you could believe rumors.
No one ever mentioned what happened with A’pone’s brother and Veronica didn’t ask.
The tree could tell her but she didn’t ask. If A’pone wanted her to know, he would have opened that conversation with her instead of abandoning and rejecting her as though she was somehow responsible. She understood that he was hurt by the loss of her brother, but if she was rejected because she’d stopped him from killing someone, it was for the best.
She understood that in war, sometimes lives were lost, but the murder of someone for actions done half a lifetime ago didn’t make sense to her.
6
Waxing Gibbous
“Good morning,” Veronica said to the closed tent flap. There was no sound from within to indicate she’d been heard. “I know it’s early, but this is time sensitive.”
She waited, adjusting the sling with its trembling occupant inside. In the back of her mind, she ticked off possible health concerns.
Shock.
Fractured wings.
Dehydration.
She’s taken care of his superficial wounds while he slept so she didn’t think there would be infection, but it could be a possibility.
Murial had fared so much better. A few scratches and bites and shaken up from the concussion but he seemed nearly recovered.
Still no one came to the tent opening.
“Tiffany. This is your mother. Open this door.” She used that strident tone reserved for when she was about to deliver a lecture.
This time there was no mistaking the sound of her daughter throwing herself out of the bed. It was very like the young woman to respond like that.
Well, Veronica would get this over with and both of them could move on.
After a few more moments the tent flap flew open and Tiffany flounced out, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you want, mother?”
She wasn’t wearing paint now. Instead she was wrapped in a robe of luxurious white fur, complete with a heavy ruff, currently thrown back.
Veronica always wanted her daughter to be taken care of and to have all the best things in life. She’d thought Nick was the person to give that to her. She’d been wrong. But not for the reasons she expected.
Nick wasn’t the type for extravagances. He was cultured, frugal, dependable and uncomplicated. Sanitized.
Tiffany had fully embraced the role of being the lady of a savage chieftain and all the trappings that came with it. Nothing about that was safe or normal.
She’d come to accept that if Tiffany wanted to be a wild Amazon, or a kept woman, or love a broken man seeking redemption, it was her choice. She would be the one to live with the consequences of those choices.
Veronica had wasted too much time and energy trying to shelter and shepherd her children into the lives she believed were right for them. Tiffany had grown up pampered and spoiled because Veronica wished her own life had been one of ease and comfort.
The past couple days had actually been more enjoyable than the previous year. She’d spent every waking hour shackled to her office, her phone, her computer, all for the purpose of driving her business forward. The endless frenzy to be successful never st
opped. Right now she had dirt under her broken fingernails and blisters on her bare feet and she wasn’t even wearing panties.
But she was content.
Maybe not totally happy yet.
But she could be satisfied here.
The tree agreed with a gleam of emerald and rustle of leaves.
Lifting a hand, she touched the necklace of acorn shells.
She met and held Tiffany’s belligerent gaze until the young woman glanced away. “I came for several reasons. First, I want to apologize for trying to control your choices. I know I was smothering you. Second, it wasn’t my intention to bring trouble to your doorstep. I hope your mate is recovering well. Third, I am your mother and no matter how old you are I’m going to worry about you. Fourth, I’ve had enough of your disrespect. I’ve only ever done what I thought was in your best interest. I might have been wrong, but not out of malice.”
Tiffany’s nostrils flared and her jaw clenched. “You almost got my mate killed.”
“That’s untrue. Your mate made decisions that caught up with him. I just happened to bring the two forces together. If it hadn’t happened now, it would have later. How do you think it would have ended if they met without our intervention? I know you’re angry with me for the way I spoke to you at the rehearsal. I feel horrible about that. I also wish you would have told me earlier that you didn’t love Nick.”
“You’re not the easiest person to talk with about those things.” Tiffany tipped her chin but Veronica could see the hurt behind the proud mask. “God, I can’t even be free of you when I escape through a portal into a completely different dimension.”
Veronica arched her eyebrows. “Is that really what you want? To be free of me? Do you know, I can comply with that?”
“There isn’t a way back!” Tiffany snapped.
“You act as though this is your own private paradise but you know what? This world doesn’t revolve around you, Tiffany. You have been here a while. You know the culture and you have integrated yourself. I can see you love it here but this isn’t one of your games.”
Blooming Desire Page 53
