Part 44: Homecoming

Note: This item has been rewritten and edited. All text in rose is BRAND NEW MATERIAL for this chapter of the story. In addition there are many minor changes to the original text itself. Please enjoy this new, expanded version of Part 44 and be on the lookout for updates to the next parts!


THE SHA'S HOOVES plodded wearily against the hard ground, the heads of their riders hanging as they went. No one spoke the entire way, and even when they stopped to eat and rest, there was never any conversation anymore. Those far in the rear were coated with dust, their claws torn and their faces smudged; their pouches bulged with the colored bits of cloth they had cut from the skullcaps of the corpses they had found littering the desert. Every so often, one or another of the Kana would break down crying, his companions always pretending not to notice, though even these fits never lasted long. If anything, everyone seemed too numb and dispirited to do anything anymore, to feel either joy or sorrow. Everything they had seen in the past day or so had been more than enough to sap such emotions away from them, and by now, even the thought of returning to their city held little hope for the remains of the River Tribe.

Captain Fe'kheru rode in the lead, as always, Lieutenant Meteri at his side. Fe'kheru looked often at the young lieutenant, but the other Kana never looked back. His own head hung forward so his lappets shielded his eyes; Fe'kheru's own eyes drifted down to see the lappets he himself still carried, red and blue, the names of his father and older brother smudged and faded by now. A third lappet he now clutched with them, dusty black. They had recovered it from a skeleton stationed further along the great desert road. By now Rura was all that was readable upon it. Fe'kheru winced when he remembered them coming upon the remains. Rura and Meteri had trained together in the same division.

He lowered his own head to stare at the ground, his heart heavy. Meteri's father, Captain Yekh'ef, had been his friend. Meteri was as close as his own son, which was why he had asked him to come along when they had departed from the River Tribe to seek out more hospitable places to live in the west. Back then, Meteri had been eager to go, though as always, he had somehow reined in his excitement; he had always carried himself with dignity, much more so than his older brother Hesi or Rura. The other two youths had often teased him about how prudish and serious he was, but he had always tolerated their joking quite well for his age. Fe'kheru knew there had never been any bad blood between them.

And now, they were all gone.

His eyes stung and he bit the inside of his mouth, trying to will the feeling away. A quick glance back at the rest of the men showed him that he could not possibly lose himself just yet, not while he was still in command of them. Without a leader, they would all fall apart. Even Meteri finally let out a small noise, and Fe'kheru glanced back at him to see that he had shut his eyes tight as if in pain, his shoulders shaking. Fe'kheru wished he would cry again--anything was better than holding it in--yet after a moment or so the young Kana took a shaky breath and let it out, and opened his eyes, and they were wet but no tears streamed from them. He stared ahead hatefully instead, and Fe'kheru sighed to himself.

"Have I ever mentioned," he murmured aloud after a long while, "how your father and I got in trouble with the general when we were still training in the army?" Meteri lifted his head and gave him a wide-eyed look. "You must take more after your mother, for your father was much like Hesi back then. He could not ever keep his tongue in his head, and he prattled like anything when we were standing out for our weekly inspection. He always had the sense of mind to keep his muzzle shut when the captain was passing by, but as soon as he did so, your father started right up, niggling and mocking him behind his back. He stated how his lappets made it look as if he had two great tongues dangling from his ears." Meteri blinked and his mouth fell open. "Then when I asked him what the general must look like with his purple lappets, he informed me that he looked just like a Sha walking about with two cocks growing from his head. Unfortunately for him, the general happened to then be standing right beside him." Meteri bared his teeth and bristled in horror, then squinched his eyes shut and clapped his hand to his mouth. "Needless to say, we spent the rest of the day out in the sun, running laps. I do not believe Yekh'ef ever made fun of anyone's lappets ever again. Then again, he has never much liked running."

Meteri was shaking again, and his eyes were finally streaming, though Fe'kheru could tell the story had managed to make him laugh. He smiled slightly as the boy tried hard to stifle his laughter behind his hand, at last gasping for breath and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Be thankful that you take after your mother," the captain added, and Meteri managed a watery smile and nodded as he rubbed his eyes. "Else you would likely be running laps, too."

Meteri sniffled and pulled his hand away, taking in a quavery breath and letting it out again. He blinked a few times and sadness entered his eyes, but at least it was not the hatred Fe'kheru had seen a moment ago. "I realize we have lost much," he murmured, and Meteri shrank in on himself a little bit again. "And I realize you have always been taught to be the strong one, and this is something I greatly appreciate in you, especially now, Meteri-Kana. But you must promise me that you will try to grieve. There is no shame in this, at all. Especially not after something such as this. You of all Kana have every reason to grieve."

"Grieving does little," Meteri said, even his voice seeming smaller. "It is action that does much."

Fe'kheru sighed to himself. "Yes, and retributive action without thought can do nothing but lead to folly. I promise you we will act. But it may take some time."

Meteri lifted his head and met Fe'kheru's eyes. "You yourself," he said. "You lost Sut'khut, and my father was your best friend. I am betting there are many more whose lappets we carry whom you called friend. When you look at these, are you not angry? Do you not want to crush whoever did this from the face of the earth, too?"

Fe'kheru rubbed at his eye wearily. "I grow as angry as you, 'Teri-Kana, as angry as any who now ride behind us. I know that you know this. This feeling...I have not ever felt a rage such as this. I do not even have the words for it; it is as deep and unending as the river." He looked the lieutenant in the eyes again. "Yet I have also seen what such a rage can do, when acted upon in haste. Even now I wonder what it was exactly that happened back there, what prompted it. Somehow I feel Sut'khut was not entirely innocent in this matter."

Meteri's brow furrowed. He pulled his Sha up closer alongside Fe'kheru's. "You would claim he deserved this--?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "That any of them deserved it--?"

Fe'kheru shook his head. "I claim no such thing, 'Teri-Kana; but you knew Sut'khut almost as well as I. Try to tell me of a time when he used his head before acting. I do not believe he fully understood thinking things through." Meteri lowered his eyes again and Fe'kheru could tell he understood. "When we left, our tribe was at peace," he continued, musing aloud. "We had our enemies, yes, but there had been no news of them planning an attack upon us. And now we return, and...this. Sut'khut was quite obviously the leader of this expedition. I would not be surprised if he were the one who initiated this, against the general's orders." He thought over how none of the lappets they had gathered had been purple--not that he had expected any to be there, with the state their general had been in even when they had left. "You remember full well, how badly he itched to lash out against our enemies...what is that last tribe we rattled swords with...the East Tribe." He paused and looked over his shoulder, brow furrowing slightly. "As a matter of fact, this path would take us right back to them. And judging by distances our men were closer to the East Tribe than they were to us. From what I can recall, the East Tribe won that battle; they had no reason to come back for us. Not unless someone prodded them into doing it."

"Even if this is so," Meteri countered, drawing his attention back, "they still did not need to slaughter us as they did. Most of those skeletons were good Kana! I know for a fact that some would have tried to flee back to the tribe! So how is it that we found no bodies further away than this--? They hunted down and killed every last one of them." His eyes watered. "They did not need to do this. Even if Lord Sut'khut prodded them on, there was no excuse for this dishonor."

Fe'kheru frowned. "Sut'khut's was the only body which was desecrated," he said quietly. "Even Sergeant Rura's wings were not touched, and he was dressed as a scout, and you know what dangers they are put to when they are captured." Meteri flinched and he moved past the point. "I do not believe they were dishonored in any way. They were killed, yet they were not humiliated. Even their bodies were placed for us to clearly find, lined up for us to easily see them. If they had wished to humiliate us, they could have done much worse than this."

"With respect, Lord, you cannot be sure what they put them through before they killed them," Meteri said. "What is not seen is not necessarily absent." They both fell silent for a long time, before he bit his lip and lifted his head timidly. "Lord..." Fe'kheru looked at him and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "When...when we get back," he murmured, and his eyes grew wet yet again. "What if...what if there is...?"

Fe'kheru's own eyes hardened slightly. "Do not think of it just now, 'Teri-Kana," he ordered, and the lieutenant fell still. "We will reach there when we reach there. And whatever we find, or do not find, we will deal with then...as best as we somehow can. There is nothing we can do until then but wait."

Meteri looked back down at the ground and nodded. "Yes, Lord..."

He fell silent again, the sound of their Sha's hooves thudding against the earth the only one to be heard. Fe'kheru watched the youth for a moment or so more, although he seemed to be all right, for the moment; he then turned his attention to the path ahead, and kept his eyes focused resolutely on the northern horizon. With the progress they were making, he felt they should reach the tribe before nightfall...that gave them another hour or so to steel themselves for whatever scene might lay ahead. Fe'kheru couldn't even bear to think about it. And so he simply stared at the unchanging horizon, seeking out the tiny shift which would indicate the tribe wall coming into view, if it still remained.

What if it does not--? he only just now thought to ask himself, and this thought lent him a fresh feeling of anxiety. He hid it, however, lest Meteri see it, and continued scanning the land, his eyes eventually burning from all the yellow afternoon heat of the sun. The sand far ahead rippled and broke apart and rippled again.

After a long while, it rippled and re-formed, yet refused to break, and he squinted hard to see it better. It took a moment or two to be sure, but the longer he stared, the more certain he became that the shape ahead was what it appeared to be. Meteri noticed it as well, and sat forward upon his Sha. The rest of the Kana started following suit, ears pricking and necks craning. They started murmuring, the most noise they had made ever since coming across the slaughter-field in the desert.

Meteri frowned slightly. "Lord...is that...?"

Fe'kheru squinted a bit more, then nodded. "Yes...it is." He tried to suppress the tiny shred of hope he felt, lest it be premature. "The wall is still standing...this is one good sign." He turned his head and waved at the rest of the men. "Ahead. Pick up your step. But keep your eyes and ears open."

That settled the excitement that had started to enter their eyes, and they pulled their swords and axes, glancing about warily. Fe'kheru, for his part, kept his eyes focused on the wall. Perhaps nothing remained behind it--perhaps all Kana had been killed in the battle. Perhaps the Moru had all fled. Perhaps everyone left had been killed and their bodies now lay behind the walls. Perhaps the enemy themselves lay there, in wait for them.

It could have been anything. He shook his head to clear it and simply focused on the emerging mudbrick, hand tight on the pommel of his sword.

Meteri shielded his eyes, scanning the top of the wall. "I see movement," he murmured anxiously.

Fe'kheru's ear flicked. "How many--?"

"I cannot be sure--still too far away." He craned his neck. "At least two, though, maybe three--"

A faraway yet loud blaring noise cut through the air just then, making them all jerk and halt, their Sha snorting and tossing their heads. Fe'kheru's hackles prickled before he recognized what the sound was, and realized why it had made him react so--he was not used to hearing it from the other side of the wall. Meteri's brow furrowed as the loud high-pitched wail of an alarm sounded across the desert, making their ears throb even at this distance.

He turned to Fe'kheru with his brow furrowing even more, ears flicking. "Why are they sounding the alarm--?"

Fe'kheru's nostrils flared. "They probably do not recognize us. All they see is an army approaching." He waved at the men again. "Keep approaching. But slow your step. If we approach too fast, they may shoot."

The Kana nodded and started moving again. The alarm continued sounding, one loud wail after another, as they went, and Fe'kheru peered at Meteri from the corner of his eye, the youth's face flinching at the awful sound. Yet the noise made him feel the slightest bit hopeful again.

If the enemy were there, I doubt they would draw such attention to themselves. I doubt they would be so clearheaded as to think to fool us with an alarm. If the alarm is sounding, perhaps there is someone left...though I do not know who...

The wall grew close enough that they could now see the guards racing atop it, from corner to corner. Fe'kheru thought he could see them staring at the intruders, and pulled his sword and raised it, blade upwards, the familiar Kana gesture of camaraderie. He then flourished it in a swinging arc, Meteri glancing at him with a small frown, and brought it back in front of him, uncertain whether the sign had been recognized or not. The alarm cut short and their ears flicked in the sudden silence that filled the air, the rest of the Kana's hands going for their swords again.

Then another noise slowly arose, quivering through the hot desert air as it reached them, and Captain Fe'kheru let out his breath when he recognized at last the sound of the alert.

* * * * *

Captain Khanef paced tiredly down the hall, pausing to check at every door he found, a chore he had been performing for weeks now. His temper had been worn short so that he made a point of dodging almost everyone he saw, lest he snap at them, and then regret it; he ground his teeth as he examined each of the quarters. He had never had much of a head for leadership, and there were times when he wondered how he had even achieved the rank of captain. Yekh'ef had teased him about that a lot, as captains were not often so young as he was. Indeed, Yekh'ef had been about ten or so years his senior, and the rest of the captains had often made it a point to let him know how much of a pup he really was. He had always taken that teasing in stride. But he had never thought that the position of leader of the tribe would have been so quickly foisted upon him. And now his feet hurt, and his patience was in tatters, and he simply wanted to lie down and shut his eyes forever.

"When that stupid damned mutt drags his tail back I will slice it and his wings off," he muttered, looking into Sut'khut's room. He spat on the floor for good measure, slamming the door and continuing. "I am not good enough that my word should be heeded when disobeying the general and heading off into battle...yet I am good enough that I should be left in charge of all this, on my own? How wonderfully gracious of him. How wonderfully thoughtful of the stupid dimwitted bastard." His muzzle wrinkled and he checked an empty room, shutting the door. "When he comes back I will make sure his lappets are clipped," he continued. "And then I will gladly give up my own, because who would be so stupid as to leave a mere lieutenant in charge of a tribe! Perhaps I will even become a SERGEANT!" He pushed open another door, found the room empty, and continued. His anger slowly faded when he came upon more empty rooms. By the time he reached the end of the hall, his spirits had sunk considerably, and he shuffled his wings and turned left.

"Whenever in the Duat they will come back," he murmured, and rubbed at his necklace as he stared off into space. He blinked and remembered to check the first room on his right--found it empty--and sighed and moved on.

He turned to the opposite side and looked out into the main courtyard, spotted a Kana tossing a throw-stick over the pool, and turned back to his daily circuit of the general's household. He paused and looked back when he thought he recognized the youth, then made a face and started walking as quickly as he could.

"Captain!"

Khanef froze and grimaced, baring his teeth. He forced himself to keep his place as the Kana who had been out in the courtyard jogged up to the hall, panting slightly. Khanef turned to face him and the young Kana smirked and gave him a mock salute.

"Making your rounds, Captain?" he sneered, his eyes hard but amused. "Making certain every little hair is in place?"

Khanef flared his nostrils but made certain that the look on his face remained neutral. "Lieutenant Pai'akhen," he greeted coolly. "I wasn't aware you were within the household."

Pai'akhen snorted, lifting his head. "I have every right to be here, the same as you do. Even more so, in fact. I do not see you with any family in this household."

Khanef bit his tongue, the anger flaring up in his breast again; he reminded himself of the other Kana's age and attitude and took a breath to calm himself. "You must forgive other Kana for not being as focused upon things other than duty, as you are, Lord."

Pai'akhen smirked, then blinked, then furrowed his brow, and then scowled. Khanef rolled his eyes and turned away, heading up the hall again. He heard the younger Kana let out an affronted snort before following, almost having to jog to keep up with Khanef's pace.

"You are just so pissy because you did not get to go along with them!" he exclaimed as they went. "What is the matter, Lord? Not invited into battle, and so you have to make do checking empty rooms--? Is that poor arm of yours still bothering you so badly--?"

He gasped and his words cut off in a choke. Khanef had whirled around so quickly that he hadn't had any chance to react, and now the older Kana gripped his throat in his right hand, his fingers squeezing into his neck. Pai'akhen's eyes goggled and he bared his teeth, gasping and wheezing.

Khanef narrowed his eyes. "Would you look at that," he said in a deadly low voice. "It seems to be feeling better now." He let go of the youth so abruptly that he fell back, coughing and rubbing at his neck; Khanef surreptitiously rubbed his forearm and then flared his nostrils. "You are hardly one to speak, Lieutenant," he said. "I was left in charge of the tribe...whereas you...were just left." The look on Pai'akhen's face began to grow ugly but he merely flared his nostrils again, as if he didn't care. "I could assume all sorts of things about what that might mean...but I have more important things to do." He turned and started walking, flicking his tail.

Pai'akhen gawked after him, then clenched his fists and flared his wings. "I was not left!" he shouted. "My father had EVERY GOOD REASON for me to stay here! For example, looking after you! To make sure that YOU do not ruin the River Tribe while you are 'in charge' of it! He knows enough of you to know that you may easily do this!"

"Tell your father, when he comes back," Khanef called back without turning his head, "that his son makes a piss-poor babysitter, for I have been checking this house ever since he left, and you have only now seen fit to show your lazy face." He flicked his tail again. "And tell your father when he returns that he should bring a new Moru with him, for he's thoroughly disgusted every one of them within this tribe, and that is no way for you to end up with a new baby brother."

He heard Pai'akhen's reaction even before he saw him. Sandal clacks resounded behind him, and a second later the youth whirled around in front of him, fists clenched and teeth bared. He let out a harsh growl and flared his wings, but Khanef only stopped and stared at him.

Pai'akhen snarled. "No one speaks of my father this way! Not you, not ANYONE! You are only JEALOUS because he was picked to lead the tribe into battle and you were not!"

"He was hardly 'picked' for anything," Khanef said, folding his arms. "He picked himself. The rest of the captains were only too stupid to disobey."

The lieutenant's lip curled back. "At least he has the balls to assume proper leadership! You would follow that piddling-assed general into the ground!" He mock-spat on the floor. "Go ahead and do so! You do everyone a favor if you do!"

Khanef's nostrils flared again. "Was your father just doing a favor when he forced himself on the general's primary mate? And made her miscarry her pup?" Pai'akhen's eyes grew wide and he lost his snarl, blinking in confusion. "Or was he doing a favor when he tried to convince Ikhi'et to forget about Fe'kheru and lie with him instead? I suppose he was doing a favor when he left you behind, without so much as asking you to accompany him into battle, so that you would have to babysit me." He started walking again. "Either way, he is certainly doing a lot of favors. Remember to thank him for me, if he comes back."

He heard Pai'akhen suck in a shaky breath of disbelief, and almost regretted using the word if; yet it was too late to take it back now. One quick glance showed him that the lieutenant was not crying, but huffing, his face going brilliant red and his claws digging deep into his fists; then he turned away once more and lost interest in the youth, forcing the irritation from his mind and continuing with his duties. He had better things to do than argue with such Kana. At least Pai'akhen had always made it clear where they'd stood with each other, and he barely had to pretend to like him anymore.

One reason for Sut'khut to drag his sorry tail back here in one piece, he thought absently. So I will not have to deal with this whelp anymore.

He came to the door to the general's quarters and slowed his step again, chewing slightly on one claw. He hated this part of his circuit, yet always had to follow through. He saved it for last, just to put it off the longest, yet sighed as he now forced himself to open the door and peer inside. He prayed that the old general was asleep, and not awake or delirious; he had never quite known how to handle that. General Nahus seemed to only ever remember the names of his two lead captains, and of his mate, Kha'kaat; by now Khanef had been addressed as "Sut'khut" and "Fe'kheru" so many times that he was just about certain the general had forgotten he even existed. Once in a while Khanef even had to look at himself in the mirror, just to make sure that he hadn't changed into someone else without knowing it.

Fortunately, the general was asleep, his breathing slow and regular and his skeletal face peaceful. Khanef stared at him for a moment or two. Most usually, generals in such a state did not remain generals for long; yet somehow Nahus's primary men had remained loyal to him, for the most part. He suspected that was because of Fe'kheru. The older captain was well respected in the tribe, being courteous, wise, and levelheaded, and his absence had been sorely felt ever since he had gone away; there were no others the old general listened to quite so much, except for Sut'khut. And Sut'khut was the exact opposite of Fe'kheru, cruel and conniving and boastful. If it were not for the rest of the men's loyalty to the general, through Fe'kheru, Sut'khut probably would have killed the old Kana a long time ago.

Khanef sighed to himself. Who am I kidding...most likely ANYONE in this tribe would have killed him a long time ago, if not for Fe'kheru! For it was true; he could tell that most of the Kana had long grown weary of waiting for the old man to die, yet Fe'kheru's refusal to act against him prompted their own refusal. There were not many Kana who could claim such power and influence as Fe'kheru did.

And now, he had no idea where Fe'kheru and Sut'khut even were. He did not even know where Yekh'ef was. He shut his eyes briefly, then closed the door before the general could awaken and notice him and call him by the wrong name; perhaps he would even answer to it this time. He pushed himself away from the door and trudged back in the opposite direction, deciding to neglect the rest of his duties. He was so tired, he would never function without some rest. He felt a twinge of guilty relief that he'd had Ikhi'et taken back to the Moru quarters, just for tonight; after what the two of them had nearly done together, he felt awkward in her presence; and besides, he simply needed some solitude right now. A Moru, even the sweetest Moru, would do nothing but distract him.

I will lay my head down and take a nap, he thought, just for an hour or so. Then I will finish everything for the day. Then I will tend to Ikhi', and think about the rest of this. But only after I have had a decent nap.

He had to stifle a yawn as he reached his rooms and slipped inside, not even bothering to see if the door closed properly. He collapsed upon the bed and let out his breath in a great gust, staring at the canopy for only a moment before letting his eyes drift shut. Ever since Sut'khut and the rest of the men had left, it had been difficult for him to sleep. Until then, he'd never noticed how silent this household seemed, without them there.

Gods damn me but I think I even miss Sut'khut's swaggering and bragging nowadays...even Pai' is a pale imitation...

The only noise to be heard, in fact, was the rippling of the pool in the courtyard nearby. His tensed muscles relaxed and he started to drift into a drowse, even that sound fading, and all of his thoughts went black, though at least that was better than what they had been like lately...

A shrill trumpet blare sliced through the air, piercing through his head; Khanef's eyes immediately popped open and he blinked, once, every muscle tensed. He hesitated for a moment, confused--then sat up with a jolt, ears flaring wildly. His head had been so foggy that he had to figure out what the noise even was before he could act on it.

An alarm--?

Alarm--!

He sucked in a breath and shot to his feet, tearing aside the drapes and dashing to the door. He yanked it open and leapt out into the hall, racing down the hallways and out of the household. In the street, the few Kana who had been left behind--most of them trainees from the barracks, and merchants from the market--were running in the same direction, weapons drawn and panicked looks on their faces. As soon as they saw Khanef running among them they seemed to pick up hope, though he had no idea why--he was probably about as fit to fight an enemy as they were. He briefly supposed it was his lappets that earned him that respect, before shoving the thought away and launching himself at the rope ladder dangling from the inside of the southern wall. The guards atop it looked down at him as he ascended. The alarm faded, then started again, hurting his ears.

"What is it?" he yelled as he clambered over the top of the wall. The guards were pacing back and forth, teeth bared and tails flicking nervously.

One pointed southward. "A great number of Kana approaching! We do not know who they are!"

"Kana--?" Khanef leaned over the wall and craned his neck, trying to see; a dark mass was moving their way, but it was too far away to make out properly. "Is it Sut'khut--?"

"They don't carry the River Tribe standard. Sut'khut would be carrying the standard! Wouldn't he--?"

Khanef bit his lip. It was true; Sut'khut always had a standard-bearer along when he led expeditions; they had even taken one with them when they'd last left. Standards were common practice among Kana armies, but Sut'khut had never been one to fail showing off his tribe's colors. There was no standard to be seen with this group.

Either they have been defeated, or--that isn't them--

Still, something wasn't right. Khanef paced from side to side, staring at the approaching Kana and chewing on his claw, the guards murmuring to each other while the trumpet-bearer continued blaring. These Kana were not approaching at any great speed, now that they must know their presence had been detected; an enemy wouldn't keep approaching in such a casual manner, not ever. An enemy would either stop and settle on a different course of action, or else charge. Why then were these ones taking their time...?

He leaned over the wall again, as far as he could without falling, and shielded his eyes, squinting hard. The guards looked at him tensely. Khanef scoured the vague shapes riding atop their Sha; he still couldn't make out faces, but slowly, the features of the group began to make themselves known. A captain rode in the lead; beside him, a lieutenant. Khanef made a quick estimate of how many men they had with them, and his heart squeezed up into his throat. The number seemed about right...

He focused his eyes once more on the captain leading the group, just in time to see the Kana draw his sword and hold it upright, its blade pointed skyward so it glinted in the fading sunlight. As if this familiar gesture weren't enough, he then waved it through the air in a slicing motion, before bringing it back upright before him.

Khanef let out a shaky breath, his eyes going wide and then suddenly blurring. "Fe'kheru," he whispered in disbelief; then, he jumped back, whirling on the trumpet-bearer and slicing his hand through the air. "Stop the alarm! Sound the alert!" The guards gaped at him in confusion as he raced for the ladder. "Open the gate!"

The guard who had spoken to him furrowed his brow. "Are--are you sure of that, Lord--?"

Khanef paused just long enough to bare his tusks at him, making him flinch back. "I said open the gate! And stop that alarm! It's Lord Fe'kheru's men!" He grasped onto the ladder and started practically sliding down it, the rest of the Kana buzzing to life and moving around atop the wall in great excitement. By the time Khanef reached the ground, the low pitch of the alert was sounding, and the great double doors were already starting to creak ponderously open.

Khanef's feet hit the dust and he jogged toward the doors, impatiently shifting from foot to foot as the guards on the ground pulled on the ropes. He craned his neck but couldn't see outside; he wanted more than anything to shove them aside and run out on his own, but knew how foolish this would look to the rest of the men. So he held his place, although just barely, still trying to see beyond the doors.

They are back! They are FINALLY back--!

The doors at last cracked open enough for him to see outside, and the great group of Sha and riders had drawn considerably closer. Khanef nudged his way out of the gate and shielded his eyes again. The captain in the lead saw him and his own eyes lit up; Khanef let out a muffled sound, and started racing toward them, his eyes streaming heedlessly and a great smile spreading across his face. By the time he reached them Fe'kheru had dismounted from his Sha, and Khanef threw his arms around him, hugging him tight and laughing with glee.

"You stupid old mutt!" he cried, wings flaring up and down as he let out a broken laugh. "I thought you'd NEVER get back!"

Fe'kheru embraced him in return, and when Khanef pulled back he saw that the older captain's eyes were also wet. He didn't think he'd ever seen him smile so widely. "Khanef-Brother! You have no idea how it makes me feel to see a familiar face!"

Khanef let out a cracking laugh and wiped at his eyes. "You only say this because you are tired of wandering about in that desert for so long!" He turned to the lieutenant, who was dismounting from his own Sha and peering at him over his shoulder, and his grin grew. "Meteri-Kana," he exclaimed, and the youth smiled, as if not having expected Khanef to remember him. "You've been gone so long I fully expected you to return in red lappets!" He stood on tiptoe, glancing at the rest of the Kana gathering at the gate, climbing down from their Sha and looking into the city, where those left behind were now congregating and talking raucously. "It is so truly good that you are all back! This city was practically dead without you!" He turned to Fe'kheru and smiled widely. "So where is that idiot Sut'khut--? I cannot believe you don't have him by the balls, the stupid Moru..."

The smile immediately faded from Fe'kheru's face, and Khanef's own began to disappear as well. Fe'kheru furrowed his brow. "You--do not know--?"

Khanef furrowed his brow as well, confused. "Know what...?" He glanced at the rest of Fe'kheru's men. "You mean, he's not with you...? I thought perhaps the two of you would run into each other..."

He turned his head now to see Meteri, and the look on the lieutenant's face made him trail off. The young Kana's head had lowered so that he stared nearly at the ground, his wings shrinking in toward his back; Khanef peered down to see that something dangled from his hand. He frowned when he thought he saw lappets clutched there; then he saw the colors red and blue, as well as black, and sucked in a breath, fur prickling. He lifted his head to look at Fe'kheru, saw the look in his eyes, and then glanced at the rest of the men. They had much the same look as Meteri. Many of them were clutching lappets as well.

A horrible sick feeling began to creep into Khanef's breast. "No..." he whispered in disbelief. He turned slowly to Fe'kheru again and the look in the other captain's eyes said everything necessary. He looked pitying, even, that Khanef had not realized sooner.

"Sut'khut," Khanef whispered. "He...led the men out...against the East Tribe. They went out weeks ago...I've been keeping watch for them ever since. Almost everyone went with them...Lord Yekh'ef..." Fe'kheru's eyes grew shadowed and he saw Meteri's head lower even more, his hand clutching the pathetic tatters of cloth, and his vision blurred again.

"They are..." He could hardly bear to turn to Fe'kheru again. "They are...all gone, then...?"

Fe'kheru's own look was oddly resigned, as if he had expected this all along. He lifted his own hand and Khanef saw a torn red lappet in it. It had been shredded, but he could still make out Sut'khut's name upon it, and he stared at it silently. He slowly shook his head.

"It was...it was almost all of us." He gestured at the Kana still within the city, their own chatter having died down long ago. "We are all that's left! They cannot all be gone...!"

Fe'kheru took a step forward and grasped his wrist. "Let us go inside," he murmured, as if to Khanef alone. "We have been riding for ages, and just wish to be home again. I will tell you everything I know. It is not much; I believe you know more than I do."

Khanef nodded numbly and stepped aside. The doors opened further and the Kana within the city stepped out of the way as the rest of the weary Apsiu trudged inside, heads hanging and lappets dangling; the trainees and merchants reached out to touch their arms and tap their shoulders as they passed, and after a moment cups of beer and fresh fruit started passing around, no one asking for so much as a ring in exchange. Fe'kheru's men did not look as if they wished to eat or drink, yet they accepted these offerings anyway, the city strangely silent now aside from a small murmur, those who had been left behind offering what few words they could to those who had returned, their sorrowful mementos clasped in their hands. Fe'kheru, Khanef, and Meteri made their way to the general's household, their step heavy and their wings slumped.

"You said that Sut'khut was the one who planned this," Fe'kheru murmured as they walked.

Khanef nodded gloomily. "He got the idea in his head...to go up against the East Tribe again. The general has told us not to dare do so, yet he disregarded this. The others, they are...were...tired...of sitting about waiting. Yekh...Yekh'ef and I tried to talk them out of it...they would not listen. Yekh'ef and Hesi went along to try to keep things under control. I stayed behind because of my arm." He looked reluctantly at Meteri, walking just behind them. "Meteri-Kana. I am sorry..."

The lieutenant couldn't meet his eyes. "Sut'khut has always had this idea in his head," Fe'kheru said, drawing his attention back. "What prompted him to act upon it now? He could have easily waited until we had returned. Why only once we were gone did he decide to act thus...?"

Khanef's muzzle wrinkled. "It was very strange...I do not even fully understand it. Some strange Moru appeared at the gate one day and demanded entrance to speak with the general." Fe'kheru frowned at him. "Some odd-looking fellow with tattered wings. I do not know the whole story...apparently he spoke with Sut'khut instead, and had some knowledge of the East Tribe to share with him. Sut'khut must have found the information reliable as he even set him up in his quarters until they departed."

"Where is this Moru now?"

Khanef shrugged. "More than likely, one of you carries his lappets. He went along with them all. I do not know who he was."

"And General Nahus had nothing to say of this--?"

Khanef sighed. "General Nahus has nothing to say about much. His mind is fading...I do not think he will be with us that much longer."

A pained look flitted across Fe'kheru's face. "He is well enough at the moment--?" he asked, and Khanef lifted his head, puzzled by the strained sound of his voice. "I wish to speak with him, if he is able. He is old and unwell but he is still our general. I promised him I would speak with him upon our return. I did not know we would be away for so long."

Khanef paused and then nodded. "Yes, I believe he will speak with you...you and Sut'khut and Kha'kaat seem to be all he remembers anymore, nowadays." He gestured with his hand as they reached the entrance to the general's household; there were not even guards stationed outside. They jogged up the steps. "He was sleeping last I saw him...but I will call the physician and wake him. Perhaps he has some kind of medicine that can clear his mind up a bit."

Fe'kheru sighed and nodded, looking slightly relieved. Meteri sniffed, once, but didn't speak. Khanef looked at them both and then hung his head, having no idea what was left to say.

"You go ahead to his rooms," he murmured at last. "The physician will be along shortly." He turned, then paused, glancing back. "Meteri-Kana," he said, and his voice cracked slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, yet no words came, and all he could do was close it again.

Meteri spoke so softly that he was surprised any sound came out at all. "You are not to blame, Lord. I know you did what you could."

Khanef's eyes watered and he bit his lip. He looked away and fiddled with his pectoral.

"It is what I could not do that grieves me," he murmured. "I am sorry, Meteri-Kana." He started walking away, his pace quicker than it had to be, and in silence the other two Kana made their way to the old general's rooms and slipped inside.

* * * * *

The old general lay upon his bed, frail and thin, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The two Kana stood over him, looking down. They silently studied the look on his face and the sound of his lungs rattling as he breathed.

Fe'kheru peered at Meteri from the corner of his eye, and saw the way the youth was chewing on his claw, a pensive look on his face. He said nothing and looked to the general again.

The door opened and a third Kana quietly stepped in, shutting it behind him. They glanced at him as he came close, crossing his arm to his breast and bowing his head. Fe'kheru frowned slightly.

"Greetings, Lords," the Kana murmured; he lifted his head and gave them an uncertain look. "I am...I am Junior Physician Nerre'mua...the senior physician, he...he has passed, roughly two weeks ago. I have been seeing to the general ever since."

Fe'kheru sighed. He nodded Nerre'mua forward and the junior physician stepped up to the general's bed, leaning over him to gently touch his neck. He started digging in his medicine chest somewhat awkwardly.

"I was told you wished him awake so you could speak with him...?"

"If this is possible," Fe'kheru said. "I have yet to inform him of our return. You say you have been tending to him these past two weeks? What is his state?"

Nerre'mua selected a small papyrus packet and shook its contents, pouring them into his hand and turning to the general. "He grows weaker with each day," he said softly. "At times it is difficult for him to tell what day it is. His memory, also, is very poor; he does not seem to recall many things he is told. I have done all I can, but I do not think he will remain with us much longer."

"How much time?" asked Fe'kheru.

The physician shrugged slightly. "A few weeks, perhaps. He was once strong; his body still struggles to maintain itself, yet it must fail soon."

The big Kana nodded slowly. "Please keep me informed as to his condition. I wish to be aware of it always."

"Yes, Lord." Nerre'mua gently tilted Nahus's head back and held his other hand, with the powder in it, beneath his nose; the general's muzzle wrinkled and he gave a slight snort, then began to stir, turning his head weakly; his eyes opened, and Fe'kheru paused when he saw how cloudy they were, the frail Kana seeming to stare right through him.

"His vision for the most part has failed, as well," Nerre'mua whispered, and stepped back.

The general blinked slowly and his nostrils flared. "Sut...Sut'khut?" he whispered, his voice as thin as reeds. "Is that you...?"

Fe'kheru's ear flicked. He knelt down beside the general's bed and enfolded the general's hand in his own; the elderly Kana's hand was small in his palm. "No, Lord," he murmured. "It is Fe'kheru."

"Fe'kheru?" The general let out his breath and a faint smile came to his face. "I had not thought I would ever see you again. Have they told you? My health is failing, it appears...I shall not even live to hear my dear Sut'khut tell me of how his battle went..."

Meteri glanced up abruptly, ear flicking. Fe'kheru clasped the general's hand tighter.

"You knew of this, Lord...?"

"Yes, of course...that other Kana...I cannot recall his name...he came and told me of it...he has been very thoughtful, talking to me, keeping me company these past few days..."

"Khanef said they had been gone for weeks," Meteri whispered with a frown.

Nerre'mua shrugged and shook his head.

"I realize I had told him not to do so," Nahus went on, unable to hear them, "but he has always been such a strong-willed Kana...and I can hardly blame him...the poor dog, wanting so badly to restore our honor...he is a good Kana. He kept watch over my Kha'kaat for me, even." He sighed. "I do so wish he would return so I could find out how this went..."

"I will tell you then, Lord," Fe'kheru said. "Your men fought bravely."

Nahus's eyes lit up. "They did, did they? I have missed it all then?" He sighed and laid his head back. "Alas...I could not even be able to see it, even if I could rise." He turned his head to look in the captain's direction again. "How did we do? Did we manage to capture or kill their general at all...? What goods has Sut'khut brought back with him? When will he come and speak with me himself? Just like him to keep me waiting..."

Meteri glanced at the bigger Kana, as if expecting him to lie. Fe'kheru tilted his head again and squeezed the general's hand.

"Lord Sut'khut gave his life in the battle, General. As did many of your men."

"Gave...his life?" The general's smile slowly faded, his eyes clouding even more. "Then...he is dead? They are...dead, all of them...?"

"Many of them, Lord. Yet they were bold, and they brought you much honor. We discovered a scout that had been sent. They killed him as well, yet they did so with honor. There was not a single one of us they desecrated." Meteri appeared to catch the lie, yet said nothing. "Even our enemy must recognize our greatness."

A faint shadow of a smile came to the old Kana's lips. "Ah...then they did what they wished to do most. They honor me. Sut'khut gave his life doing that which made him proudest...I shall never forget my brave Sut'khut...Fe'kheru..." He turned his head on the pillow. "Where is he? Call him to me...so I may congratulate him...and my mate...where is she? My sweet Kha'kaat?" He clasped Fe'kheru's hand in his own and smiled again. "She was fat with child last I knew, and Sut'khut was taking her away...I wish to know how the pup does..." His voice trailed off and his head slumped to the side, his breath slowing and rattling in a slight snore. The three other Kana stared at him for a while before the physician lifted his head and spoke.

"His mate," he said quietly. "She was due to deliver her pup just before Lord Sut'khut departed. It arrived stillborn...and there is damage to her insides, so it is unlikely that she may bear further children."

Fe'kheru sighed and closed his eyes. "Have the gods simply cursed us all, then?"

"I would not know, Lord, only to say that it looks as if someone treated her roughly. Possibly assaulted her, repeatedly, even as she was pregnant. The pup was probably dead long before it even arrived." Nerre'mua closed his chest and bowed to them. "If you will excuse me, Lords...I have been meaning to see to her, and then I shall see to those who have accompanied you back. It is good that you are once again with us, Lords." He bowed again and turned, leaving the dim room. Fe'kheru watched him go, then he and his lieutenant stared down at the sleeping general in silence.

Meteri peered up at him, then bit his lip, then fidgeted slightly.

"Captain...?"

Fe'kheru's voice was weary. "I do not wish to speak of it, Lieutenant."

He turned and left the room, Meteri hurrying to follow, the two of them walking back up the hallway. Fe'kheru's strides were long, even though his bones hurt. He imagined himself lying frail upon his bed, as his general did now; and it was not a comforting thought. Nothing here, in his home tribe, was comforting anymore. He and his men were almost all of the Kana that were left, and they only because they had been gone during Sut'khut's attack. All of their best soldiers...Sut'khut...Yekh'ef...everyone else he had known, but for a small handful...suddenly gone. Their bones now piled beneath the rocks of the desert, their lappets the only things remaining to even prove that they had existed. He shut his eyes, an ache flaring in his heart, as he walked. How had their enemy gained so much power...?

"Captain, if you will please listen to me," Meteri said. "The general is dying. We cannot avoid this now. His sons are dead. He shall father no more children. And Sut'khut is gone. He was the closest to a successor that there was. Without him, we have none left to take over."

Fe'kheru sighed. "I said I do not wish to speak of this right now, Meteri."

"We must speak of it now or never, Lord. You yourself were the next after Lord Sut'khut." He took a step forward so he walked nearly in front of Fe'kheru, looking back at him, his eyes almost pleading. "I will not fight you if you try to succeed," he declared. "In fact, I will assist you. And I know your men would as well. If any should oppose you, they would quickly be quashed. You will make a far better general than Sut'khut ever could."

Fe'kheru opened his eyes at last and glared at the lieutenant. "Our general is still alive," he snapped. "Do not speak as if he is dead! This is disrespectful! For the time being, we accept him as our leader." Meteri withered a little under his gaze, and turned away, falling back into step beside him. "After he is gone," Fe'kheru said more quietly, sensing his chagrin, "if it is still an issue...then, perhaps, we may speak of this again. But not until then."

The lieutenant's voice was quiet and resigned, almost sullen. "Yes, Lord..."

Fe'kheru touched the youth's arm. "Come," he said, trying to sound less weary than he actually felt. "Let us see if anyone is left in this place besides Moru. I thought I espied a few more familiar faces at the gate, but I have yet to see them again..."

"I will speak with the one in charge of the rosters to see who is missing and who is accounted for, Lord," Meteri said, lifting his head, "yet I fear the former will far outnumber the latter."

Fe'kheru sighed once more. "I know already that this will be so." His ears flicked, and he peered down at the lieutenant again. "Meteri...I know that you are grieving, inside, over Yekh'ef and Hesi-Kana." Meteri's own ears bent back and he looked at the floor, his eyes dark. "I know you do not wish it to show, but I also know you just as well as your father did. I hope that you will let yourself feel this pain, and not let it fester inside of you." He paused. "I realize none of us are to be held at fault...still, it was because of me that you were not here with them, and I feel the need to say something to you, to somehow atone for it..."

Meteri's head popped up and he blinked. "It is...not your fault, Lord!" he stammered. "Nor your place to atone! I seek only vengeance against that damned East Tribe!" His eyes darkened and he scowled. "For slaughtering our brothers so hideously!"

Fe'kheru cocked an ear. "I did not speak completely in lies back there, Meteri; for being our enemy, they were unusually gracious toward our dead. I doubt they even subjected them to hakh'tua before dispatching them."

"Again with respect, Lord, there is no way for us to tell that. And it still does not change the fact that they were killed." He paused. "I myself feel I must apologize, for Lord Sut'khut, Captain..."

Fe'kheru waved slightly. "It was only how he wished to die, should he have had to. Nahus was right; this is most how he would have liked to go. As soon as all is resolved we shall build a shrine for them. You will help me--yes, Meteri?"

"Yes, Lord."

They walked in silence for another moment before he again spoke. "I wanted to ask you only one other thing," he said quietly, and Meteri's ear tilted to the side. "I realize that you are a lieutenant elite now, and have completed your training...still, the loss of your father grieves me so. I grew up with him. I knew that you would follow in his footsteps, and both you and Hesi would make him proud." Meteri flushed. "I always considered him my closest of friends, and promised that I should tend to his estate should he die before me, and leave none to care for it. Hesi is gone...he has left you, yet you are now without a father to bring honor to. My heart feels heavy that you should be hata'tai so young in life." He paused. "And so I ask if you would mind greatly if I were to adopt you as my own son. I should be honored to call the son of Yekh'ef my own."

Meteri's head jerked up and he blinked, his cheeks burning red. "I--I am at a loss, Lord," he stammered. "Of course not. Of course I would not mind. I would be honored to be your son!"

Fe'kheru smiled slightly. "I had felt you would feel the same way...yet I wished to be certain. I know that you will honor me greatly. You already have, Meteri."

The youth's face flushed even more and his eyes grew wet--he looked half as if he wanted to laugh, half as if he wanted to cry. "As--as have you, Lord!" he exclaimed, and the crack in his voice made Fe'kheru's heart feel a little bit lighter.

He lifted his head and glanced around him, stretching his wing. "I must seek out my quarters for a bit of rest at the moment," he said tiredly. "Firstly I will go down to the cellar though for a spot of wine to dampen my throat...that desert feels as if it has sucked every bit of moisture from me." He glanced at Meteri. "Would you seek out my Moru? If she is to be found? Alas, I do not even know if she is still alive after all of this...Sut'khut was the one supposed to be looking after her." He grimaced.

"Of course, Lord." Meteri saluted. "Do not worry, she is likely safe and sound. I'll bring her to your rooms personally; she will be waiting when you arrive."

"Thank you, Meteri." He squeezed the younger Kana's arm. "Please take yourself a rest as well; as soon as we figure all of this out, we are certain to have a long road ahead of us."

"Yes, Lord." Meteri gave him a hesitant smile, then turned and departed, his step quick. Fe'kheru stood a moment to watch him go, wincing at a slight bite of pain in his arm before turning and making his way toward the back of the household, sighing as he went.

* * * * *

Khanef's step was heavy as he made his way back in the direction of his own rooms. He couldn't even lift his stare from the floor as he walked; he had already seen to it that Physician Nerre'mua had been sent on his way to see to the general, yet now that that had been done, he had absolutely no desire to follow him. He thought of Fe'kheru, and Meteri, and all the things he had had ready to say to them when they should return...yet now, knowing that Sut'khut, and Yekh'ef, and Rura and Hesi and all the others would not be returning as well...made all his comments feel useless. Suddenly, he found that he did not want to be around anyone much anymore.

I suppose this is the only way to keep from pain, he thought as he walked, wings slumped. Do not grow close to anybody.

He let his mind drift, remembering the looks on the faces of the captains as Sut'khut spoke before them...how eager they had seemed, even as they unknowingly contemplated their own doom. He thought of Yekh'ef's goodnatured joking, and of how much he knew that Hesi would have taken after him. He thought of Sergeant Rura, cheerily volunteering for scout duty, his face lighting up when he had been selected for the dangerous task. Then all his thoughts were replaced by skeletons and he had to shut his eyes before they could spill over, a choked noise cutting off in his throat.

Sandal clacks coming fast from ahead made his ears prick and he lifted his head to look up. He couldn't keep himself from flinching when he realized that it was Pai'akhen coming his way, his blue lappets swinging and his jog slowing as he neared. He came to a halt, panting hard, and Khanef could tell he had been down by the river, his kilt and sandals wet.

"The--the alarm," he panted. "Someone came--?"

Khanef stared at him for a moment before lowering his head again and walking on.

"Lord Fe'kheru."

Pai'akhen's face fell. "That is all--?" he asked as the captain passed him, turning on his heel to watch him go. "What about my father?" he demanded, an angry bite entering his voice. "Does he even have any news of him--?"

Khanef stopped again. He didn't turn around or raise his head.

"Sut'khut will not be returning." He fell silent for a moment, then murmured, "I am sorry," and started walking once more.

Pai'akhen didn't follow him. Oddly enough, Khanef felt an ache in his breast, and realized that he had meant the apology, for once.

* * * * *

As one of the old general's top captains, Fe'kheru had always had access to all of his household, including his Moru quarters and the wine cellar, yet for the most part he had always refrained from taking advantage of his master's hospitality, as Sut'khut had been prone to do. The most he had asked, some years ago when his favorite Moru had died, was for another to take her place by his side, if not in his heart. Fe'kheru had not had many Kana children, as he chose to have one mate at a time. The other Kana found this odd, yet most said nothing of it. He remembered the ribbing he would get from Sut'khut on the matter, yet had always ignored it. From the looks of it, Sut'khut's ways hadn't spared him in the end.

He did take the time to consider how wise or unwise it might have been to take only one mate, seeing that he had no Kana sons remaining, the last two having died of the illness, and drowned in the river. His tail flicked and he even briefly entertained the thought of taking a younger, more suitable mate; then he laughed to himself, and exited the wine cellar. He had never seen much point in siring a horde of pups. Right now, Meteri would do fine enough.

He returned to his quarters carrying a large jar of wine, feeling that it had been earned by now. Of course, Meteri was right. Their general would not live much longer; with his children dead, and Sut'khut gone as well, that left the position in dispute. He knew he would not face much resistance if he were to take control of the tribe. If he did not, there could be much more bloodshed before the year was through. Yet Fe'kheru didn't wish to be general. Right now, all he wanted was to be with his Moru.

True to Meteri's word, when Fe'kheru arrived, he found a dim shape within waiting for him. As soon as he shut his door and set down the wine, fumbling about for a lamp, it rose and came toward him, letting out a soft mew. Fe'kheru's ears flicked and he held out his arms. When the Moru embraced him he held her close, stroking her head as she sniffled at his breast.

"Fe'kheru-Master! To be gone so long!" she cried softly. "To think you dead!"

Fe'kheru winced and held her tighter. He took in the smell of her, and it was both old and new at the same time. He put his muzzle to her neck as she started weeping. "Poor little Ikhi'," he murmured, feeling his eyes growing wet; he truly had missed her. "If I had known it would be so long, I do not know what I would have said to you, sweet one...but I'm home, now. I do not intend to leave you alone one moment the rest of this night." He lifted his head and smiled at her, not caring that the tears trickled from his eyes right in front of her; she stared back up at him, her own eyes large and dark, and he touched her face, tracing his fingers along the line of her jaw; she was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time. He gestured at the jar sitting nearby and she glanced at it. "Come, I brought some wine. You will take a drink with me? To welcome me back?"

Ikhi'et's muzzle wrinkled. "To hate wine," she sniffled, but even though her eyes were large and glistening, she managed to give him a watery smile. He smiled at her again in return and placed his muzzle to hers, so she opened her mouth immediately and they kissed, another soft mew forming in her throat as he touched her arm. They stood this way for a moment or two, before he reluctantly pulled away; the way she continued smiling at him, even as she rubbed at her teary eyes and sniffled, made his heart ache, but in a good way. He took a step toward his clothing chests and started removing his armor and jewelry.

"I know you will likely not believe me, pretty Ikhi'," he murmured as he did so, "but every moment, of every day, that we were gone, I could not stop thinking about you...if I had known how long we would be away, I honestly do not believe I would have ever gone. I should not have left you like that. I am sorry."

The Moru sniffled. "Master to stay with Ikhi'et," she said. "Forever and ever. Maybe Ikhi'et to forgive, someday."

Fe'kheru's smile grew. "You would be so forgiving--? To a cruel old Kana like me?" He stood and slipped off his sandals, leaving on only his kilt and skullcap, then looped his arm about hers and they went to sit on the edge of his bed, she drawing her legs up underneath her as he poured the wine into two cups. He peered at her as she accepted her cup and took a sip, and he silently studied her features as she made a slight face at the taste. She reminded him of his first mate, when she had been young. Most Kana gave up or sold their females as they passed their childbearing age. Fe'kheru had kept his until she had died from the illness that occasionally passed through the tribe, even though she had long been unable to give him children. Ikhi'et had lost her last two pups by him. He doubted that she would give him any more.

"I am sorry I abandoned you for so long," he murmured again, his smile fading as he picked up his own cup and took a sip. "No Moru should be so treated as this. If I had known in the least, I never would have gone. I do not intend to do so again."

Ikhi'et lowered her cup, brow furrowing. "Lord...?" She touched his arm. "To know Lord not to mean it! To have Kana things to do! Ikhi' just happy to have master back." She purred and rested her head against his shoulder; he put his arm about her and drew her close. "To have been so long," she said softly. "Sut'khut-Kana to say you never return...to not believe him, but to be so lonely..."

Fe'kheru frowned slightly. "He said this...?" he asked, looking down at her. She was too lost in snuggling next to him to notice the tone of his voice, and merely lifted a shoulder, still purring.

"Sut'khut-Kana to insist you not coming back...to ask Ikhi' to go back to his bed...Ikhi' to say no, not even tempted, but to worry about Fe'kheru-Master anyway...to think he might come and make me go with him..." She shivered in distaste.

Fe'kheru's face grew dark. "Well...you need not worry about this, anymore. He will not bother you."

Ikhi'et stiffened slightly, then gently nudged herself away from him. She peered up at him meekly and swirled the wine in her cup, biting her lip.

"Ikhi'...Ikhi' to...not be good Moru," she said in a small voice; when he tilted his head in puzzlement she averted her eyes and shrank in on herself. "To hate this, but to must tell Fe'kheru-Master truth...Khanef-Kana to care for Ikhi'et when Sut'khut-Kana gone...and..."

She trailed off, and remained silent for so long that he frowned, ear tilting. "And...?" he prompted her quietly. She winced and swirled her cup a little more. Fe'kheru blinked, then his brow furrowed.

"Lord Khanef attempted to take you to his bed--?"

Ikhi'et flushed bright red and gasped, nearly spilling her wine. "Oh--! No, no, Lord! No!" she exclaimed, mortified. "To--Ikhi' to...um..." Her face flushed even harder. "Ikhi' to...well..." She practically grimaced.

Fe'kheru's ears flared. "You attempted to take Khanef to his bed--?" When the Moru huddled in on herself in shame he started laughing at the canopy. He saw her mouth fall open, her eyes growing wide, but he couldn't help it; he had to wipe at his own eyes, wings shaking, and set aside his drink before he could spill it.

"Did--did not mean to, Lord!" Ikhi'et cried. "Just--to feel so--" She let out a flustered noise.

Fe'kheru couldn't stop laughing; he continued rubbing at his eyes even as he reached out his free hand to draw her close again. "Oh...I am...I am sorry, little Ikhi'...but...if you were looking for a Kana to seduce...you chose very much the wrong one!" He had to try to keep himself from laughing anew. "I think you would probably have had more luck even with Meteri had he been here!"

Ikhi'et still flinched in shame. "To be so sorry, Lord...to not mean it, to just...miss Master so much..."

"Oh...do not torment yourself over it, pretty Ikhi'. I am certain Khanef is the one feeling worst about this whole thing." He stroked her head and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes, taking a breath and letting it out. "I know you did not mean it. If anything, I am even sorrier for leaving you so long that you would put yourself in that situation." He took in and let out another breath, at last stilling his laughter. "If it helps you any, I have felt the same way many times myself these past months, yet I was not so fortunate as you--there were no pretty faces to be found among us all. And so I had to make do with just imagining you near me."

"Oh!" Ikhi'et pressed herself close to him again. "Poor Master! Should not have to be so lonely!"

He stroked her cheek and took another drink. "Yes, well, it is difficult to be anything but, when one is surrounded by a bunch of Kana, with no pretty Moru in sight." Ikhi'et giggled and he looked into his cup, then out toward the courtyard. Night had long fallen, and the water outside glittered under the stars; even as he held Ikhi'et he thought suddenly of all the houses that would be occupied again for the first time in months, yet of all those others that would never be occupied again, and of the Moru which must even now be in the care of their masters' servants, still waiting for their masters to return. He felt a twinge and flinched at the thought; he would have to talk with Meteri in the morning, and with Khanef, and try to sort out who would look after whose property, now that most of them were gone. There were always more Moru in a tribe than there were Kana...but how very many more were there now? Surely far more than most of them would know what to do with...

Ikhi'et saw his preoccupied look and her own worry returned. "To be so quiet," she said softly. "To speak with Ikhi'et? To be upset?"

He shut his eyes briefly and shook his head. "No...not with you, sweet one." Fe'kheru sighed and scratched her ear. "My bones merely ache again, is all."

She tilted her head. "To make Master feel better, yes? To be gone long time, to probably be so tired by now!" Her face grew more serious than he was used to it looking. "Tribe to have changed much, while gone. Things...different, now," she added, uncertainly.

He nodded and took a sip. "Yes, this I know...most unfortunately. It will change even more still in the days to come, I fear." He winced again and now rubbed at his neck.

Ikhi'et set down her cup with a slight splash and reached for him. "To get rid of, yes? Please?"

Fe'kheru sighed again and set his own cup aside. "Very well...I would lie, if I were to tell you I had not missed your touch as well, pretty little Ikhi'. Somehow you take all my pains away whenever I am with you."

Ikhi'et flushed and hid her smile, giggling. Fe'kheru smiled in return. She looked so much like his old mate when she did that.

He turned and lay down upon his belly, stretching out and resting his head upon his arms while she leaned over him and started kneading his back. She worked along his spine, over his ribs and shoulders and neck, then down lower again. He sighed and shut his eyes. She massaged his legs, her fingers just barely brushing over the back of his thigh; then she set to work on his wings, and his breath shuddered, just faintly. He wasn't certain, at his age, if he was still able to fly; though this was something best kept to himself, if he wished to avoid becoming Moru. Ikhi'et--and perhaps, he guessed, Meteri--were the only ones who suspected his worry. Whenever she could, Ikhi'et would try to massage the ache out of his wings, and for a short time at least, they would feel almost as well as they had when he was young and fresh in the general's army, back when their general could still lead them. He briefly let his thoughts wander as Ikhi'et's fingers worked over the membrane.

Perhaps that is what is wrong with our tribe, he thought vaguely, his mate caressing him, why we lost so badly this time. We all grow old. There is no fresh blood among us anymore. We were dying, long before we ever met the East Tribe.

Meteri entered his mind, and he allowed himself a tiny shred of hope. Meteri was young and capable. He had seen the destruction the enemy tribe had wrought, and knew their abilities as well as Sut'khut should have but hadn't. Fe'kheru had seen the hatred in his eyes, and it had worried him...yet he had known Meteri his entire life, and had never known the boy to act rashly under any circumstances. He had always used his head more than anything. Perhaps, with hope, he would not repeat his elders' mistakes...

Fe'kheru let out a trembling sigh. Ikhi'et's hands worked over his wings, down toward his spine again. He may have been growing older, but her touch had the same effect it always had, especially after he had been away from her for so long. He shut his eyes a bit tighter when he felt himself stirring beneath his kilt, and his breath picked up just slightly. He could have maintained the illusion of relaxation, had not his tail started swishing impatiently from side to side, causing Ikhi'et to start giggling, pulling her hands away to cover her mouth again. He opened his eyes to see the color rise in her cheeks, her nostrils flaring as she picked up his scent. He smiled and reached out one arm to draw her close.

"How long have we been mates?" he asked, his voice jokingly chiding. "And yet you still giggle every time like an iat'ahi!"

Her giggling only grew louder. Yet she didn't protest when he kissed her lightly, and she even snuggled next to him so their bodies touched. Fe'kheru nuzzled at her neck, listening to her sigh as he ran his hand down her side to cup her buttock in his hand. His own nostrils flared; he and his men had been gone from the tribe for many months, and that entire time he had gone without nesakh'ai. He had not even pleasured himself once during their travels, despite Meteri insisting that he should do so; he knew the wisdom in the young lieutenant's words, but he had never been much of one for ahi'akhta. As such, now that he caught the hint of Ikhi'et's musk, he snorted and grew hard very quickly, his breath beginning to come fast. Ikhi'et's hands slipped under his kilt and she fumbled to pull it up, murmuring. She untied his loincloth, grasping his sheath; his penis rose, sliding free of its constraints. Ikhi'et's fingers stroked up and down. He could sense her own impatience in the way she trembled and whimpered softly, and judging by the way he now felt, he could hardly blame her for seeking Khanef's attentions.

Fe'kheru snorted again. He met his mate's mouth and their tongues explored as their hands did likewise. He cupped her breast through her dress, not bothering to pull it down; his need was too great. She seemed to realize this, as soon as he latched his fingers under the hem and started dragging her dress up over her hips. She shifted to allow him, their growing motions awkward in the ill-lit room. Her breath came out as a quick pant as she finished pulling her dress up to her waist; Fe'kheru pushed himself up with a pained grunt and the two of them fumbled to get into position. Had it not been for his shortness of breath, the slight twinge of pain in his breast and the ache still in his bones, he would have felt like an excited teenager coupling with his first Moru. Ikhi'et acted much the same, kneeling and whimpering, arching her back to thrust her buttocks up before him. He couldn't resist it; he leaned down and nuzzled between them, his tongue poking briefly inside, earning a yip.

"M-Master--!"

The captain chuckled. "I remember, I do not forget. You liked that very much the last time as I recall. I hope you do not mind overly much if I have other diversions in mind, though!"

The Moru shook her head hastily. "N-no, Master. What you wish! What I wish!" She spread her knees with a soft mew and lifted her tail so her opening glistened, pink and dewy, an inviting treat for his weary eyes. A soft guttural noise escaped him on looking at it, his whole body aflame; he rose onto his knees and shuffled into position behind her, gently grasping her hips. He pressed his thighs to hers and slowly eased his way inside, shutting his eyes and letting out a soft sigh. Ikhi'et whimpered again and trembled against him. The captain paused, catching his breath, his mate impaled upon him, before he leaned over and started to move. Ikhi'et arched. Fe'kheru gripped her thighs and grunted softly, pushing, pushing. They did not rut, although his body desperately wanted to; instead he coupled with her slowly, tenderly, savoring her softness, bending down to lick at her nape as he knew she liked, hearing her whimperings of desire. Their hips swayed leisurely.

"M...Master..." Ikhi'et whispered, arching her neck for him to nuzzle at. He did so, running one hand up and down her body, wishing they had had the time to properly remove their clothes...perhaps when they were done. He knew he most likely would not have the energy to couple with her again, yet knew that he could bring her to climax several times over with his personal ministrations. He always made certain to do so, as well, palming and licking her breasts after each time they mated, sliding his fingers in and out of her slickness, mouthing at her most secret areas, anything to give her more pleasure. He knew she did not like giving hakh'tua overly much; as she had told him once after they'd made love, her old master had not been so kind to her, and his own hakh'tua had been most vicious. And so even though every once in a while he would have liked to feel her tongue and mouth around him, Fe'kheru never asked. Simply sucking the juices away from her sweetest spot was often enough to make him hard, and once in a while one of them would awaken the other when in need. He did not plan to do this tonight, as both of them were too heated to even consider falling asleep at the moment; yet if he felt she needed further satisfaction, he would be ready.

He let out a low murmur and his hips quivered, tail standing out straight. Ikhi'et cried out and arched. Fe'kheru concentrated on the lithe curve of her back as he picked up his pace, his heart pounding in his ears and his lappets swinging. His loins burned. Ikhi'et whined and shifted her hips, her own private signal to him that it was all right. He accepted her invitation, clutching her tighter and lifting himself somewhat. He drove into her deeply, his sac slapping gently against her skin, hearing her high-pitched cry. His toes dug into the bed and he gritted his teeth. He had not wanted to go so quickly...yet now it appeared that both of them wanted it, and badly. With a harsh growl he hurled his hips against those of his trembling mate, plunging hard and deep. He bared his teeth and snarled, ears flaring back. Ikhi'et shivered wildly, aroused by the feral sound. He went so far as to lean over and sink his teeth into her nape, adoring her squeal, and then playfully slapped at her buttock. She jumped and yelped and he swatted at her again, letting go of her nape.

"All this time--you have misled me!" he panted. "Do you mean to tell me that you like to go fast and hard--? Have I truly wasted so much time being gentle with you?"

Ikhi'et let out a wild giggle. "Oh--oh Master, please! Too hot! Too hot! Please...please, to take pain away!"

He smiled and scored her nape with his teeth, nibbling at her ears. He had no response to give save to finish taking her, thrusting himself in to the hilt and letting out a sharp breath at the loud moan she gave as she contracted around him, warm and tight, his own buttocks quivering as he released. He waited until his seed finished flowing before easing himself out of her, holding onto her waist as she was too weak to hold herself up. True to his thoughts, he was exhausted, yet Ikhi'et trembled still within his grasp, whimpering softly. Despite her meekness she had always been a lusty one.

He carefully turned her about, pulling off her dress, and laid her back upon the pillows, smiling gently into her face and stroking her cheek. Her eyes were glazed, her lids heavy; she smiled in return, then her face contorted and she sucked in a breath. Fe'kheru busied himself tonguing her breasts and rubbing his fingers against her thik'ahi so her hips juddered upon the bed. He suckled at her hard nipple for a moment, then bent down and grasped her thighs, parting them in his hands and placing his muzzle between them. Her cry was even louder now; she even took hold of his head as he worked, nudging her hips upward at his mouth. He cherished the sounds she let out, loving that he was bringing her such pleasure. He'd missed her so greatly, since he'd been gone.

A brief pain surged through him--partly at the thought that he knew this would not last, partly something else. Hiding his grimace, he probed with his tongue, fingering her in behind, to bring her to climax. Ikhi'et gave a husky cry and stiffened within his arms, before sinking against him. She pressed her head to his breast, panting heavily, as he settled them both down upon the bed, drawing a light sheet up over them; she had always been somewhat shy of being seen by others, as well. Beneath the covers, he finally took the time to undo his kilt and nudge it aside. He kissed her forehead.

"I hope you are happy, tonight, my little sweet...?" he murmured. "This was what you have been wanting for so long without me...?"

"Y...yes, Master..." Her voice was faint from exertion, her eyes glazed. He admired the sheen of sweat upon her, the scent of her musk. His smile faded just a bit, and he stroked her again, hearing her sigh, seeing her close her eyes as she snuggled close. He could never lie to her, nor hide the truth. He knew she would always find out; and he wished to never hurt her. It was the same, he assumed, as her telling him of what had happened with Khanef; they had never been good at keeping the truth from each other for long.

His fingers ran down her neck. "Dear sweet one...I regret that I will have to leave you again soon." When she opened her eyes he kissed her forehead. Her look was confused. "I have matters to attend to, in the south. I must go with my men again, as Captain Sut'khut is no longer among us."

Ikhi'et's brow furrowed and she pushed herself up, still looking him in the face, her own face pained. "Master to just return!" she whimpered; the plaintive note in her voice made him ache again. "To miss so much. To not go! Please!"

"I must, sweet one." He kissed her cheek this time, and met her eyes, which were growing moist. He hated that he had made them that way. "I would not go and leave you ever again, if I did not feel it were necessary for us to survive. Yet it is. Our tribe has been through a difficult time...I will go and try to make things right again. So that the two of us may spend the rest of our lives together, with no more worries. I do this only for the tribe, and only for us."

Ikhi'et's breath hitched. Her eyes welled up. She stared at him for a moment, then with a soft whine she pressed her head against him and hugged him close.

"To miss Master so much, these months...to think you dead...please, please, to come back to Ikhi'et, always."

"Of course, sweet one." Fe'kheru brushed his fingers over the top of her head, pressing his cheek to hers, trying to still her growing hiccups of dismay. "I will always come back to you."

"To promise. To promise this time! That you will come back!"

"I promise, sweet one. I will come back to you, always." He managed another smile, very slight, and trailed his fingers over her abdomen, seeing her eyes flutter and hearing her breath hitch. He kissed her, felt her muscles tighten. "We still have tonight though, and until I leave." His mouth twitched. "You will see so much of me until then that I shall have you begging for me to leave."

"Oh! To not joke!" She started sniffling. "Could never wish Master gone! To love you too much!"

Fe'kheru chuckled. "Of course, little one, it was only a joke. I know what you feel. Get yourself a bit of rest for the moment. I shall have a good surprise awaiting you in the morning."

Ikhi'et's dripping eyes brightened. "Surprise? Please, Master to tell! Please?"

The Kana made a clucking noise and touched his knuckles to her chin. "It would not be a surprise then. Little fool! You will have to wait. But I will give you a hint." His mouth twitched again. "It will be long, and it will be hard, and it will be awaiting you the moment you awaken, for you to do with it whatever you wish."

The Moru's eyes widened. A moment later she burst into helpless giggles and slumped against him again. "Oh! Silly Master! Same surprise as last time. Ikhi'et to like that surprise!"

His own smile grew. Once more he placed a tender kiss upon her face, and lay down beside her. "I admit, I am old and have few new ideas; yet at the least, they are ideas that you like, sweet one." His smile softened now, and he lowered his voice to a murmur. "Have a pleasurable dream. I will so hate being away from you for any time. But we will play at catch-up all the morning tomorrow, just wait and see."

A giggle. Fe'kheru held Ikhi'et to him and sighed into her fur, and though he fully intended to be the one to drift her to sleep, it was the slow stroke of her hand against his side that lulled his own eyes to close, his worried thoughts leaving him as he dozed off at last in the bed they shared.

And though he had truly meant to awaken before her, it was she who awoke him...when he stirred from pleasant dreams to find himself in an even more pleasant situation, his mate bent over him, cupping his sac in her hands, her mouth around him, sucking, consuming. He sighed and shut his eyes and splayed his fingers against his groin, slowly pushing his hips up, relaxing, pushing. Ikhi'et offered no complaint, yet her eyes twinkled. For the rest of the early morning Fe'kheru lay back among the pillows and sighed waveringly as his mate pleasured him as she never had before, in ways he hadn't even known she knew. And when at last he could take the heat no longer, he grasped her arms and pulled her, laughing, to him.

In the hallway, Meteri, awake early as always, slowed as he passed the captain's rooms, tilting his head as he always did, making certain his lord was all right. The breathy giggling and soft moaning and grunting within, mixed with the gentle slap of skin and the waft of musk, told him everything, and he moved on. For now, his captain was once more in his true form--and as he walked away, the Moru letting out a husky cry as her master groaned loudly in climax, he knew that was at least one less thing that he had to worry about.

Continue:

"Part 45: Plotting" 


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