Adorable as the broodling was, Urkot couldn’t shake the sense that something was…off. He tilted his head and looked from Rekosh to Ketahn and back again. “Where are your mates? I have not seen either of you without them since Rekosh claimed Ahmya.”
“She is visiting with Lacey.Girl time, they said,” Rekosh replied.
“I sent my Ivy with Ahmya, so she may relax.” Ketahn reached back with a lower arm to rub his broodling’s black and gold hair. “She tells me her heart leaps into her throat every time she sees Akalahn climb. She does not know why I am not worried when we awake to find him hanging from the ceiling.”
In all the years Urkot had known him, Ketahn had never shown interest in taking a mate, had never spoken of siring broodlings. And Urkot had never imagined it. Ketahn always strode along his own path, straight into the unknown and right on through it.
He had come to this—a mate, a broodling—in his own way, and it suited him so well that Urkot couldn’t help but hope for himself.
Rekosh extended a foreleg, bumping a leg joint against the bag on Urkot’s belt. “More stones? I wonder what—or is it who—they are for?”
Urkot withdrew with a grunt. “Glowstones for Singer’s Promise.”
“None for Callie?”
There is one for Callie.
The most unique in the bag.
Using his lower hand, Urkot adjusted the bag’s lay. Hopefully that little cubed crystal hadn’t been damaged when the rock fell.
What if it had been Urkot’s tribe down there with him instead of the thornskulls? What if one of his friends, one of his family, had been harmed? Visions of that horror attempted to take shape in his mind. Only his grip on the bag kept his hand from trembling.
“You are sure you are well?” Rekosh asked in vrix. The playful gleam that danced in his eyes whenever he traded friendly barbs had vanished.
“Yes,” Urkot replied in the same language. “I am tired.”
Rekosh hummed, the sound at once thoughtful and unsure.
Akalahn chirruped, leaning toward the side of Ketahn’s hindquarters.
“We’re heading back to the lounge,” Will said in English as he held a finger out for the youngling to grasp. “Cole’s been slow roasting some meat for half the day, so everyone’s going to eat together. You should come, Urkot.”
Ketahn chittered. “I am sure your gut growls with hunger.”
Urkot knew he should’ve been hungry. After a long day of harvesting crystals, there should’ve been a vast, gnawing hollowness inside him. But all he felt was that crushing dread, twisting tighter in his stomach with every beat of his hearts. It left no room for hunger.
And the thought of sharing a meal with his tribe, of having to look into their eyes and continue pretending he was fine while he felt likethis, was more than he could bear.
They’d all been through enough. They didn’t need to bear the weight of his burden too.
“I must clean,” he said, scrubbing his hands together before using his lower hand to pat the bag. “And then…dathar othar.What are the human words?”
“Tend them,” Ketahn said.
“Yes, tend them.”
“Hiding away now, just like Telok?” Rekosh asked with a chitter.
“Telok says he does not hide. He hunts.”
“Telok may say whatever he wants, it does not change the truth.”
Urkot grunted. “What would he hide from? Telok has small fear.”
Releasing Will’s finger, Akalahn climbed up Ketahn’s back, grabbing shoulders and hair to haul his little body up. He seemed determined to perch atop his sire’s head until Ketahn reached up, snatched the broodling down, and cradled him in his arms. Akalahn trilled, swatting at the loose strands of hair now dangling over his sire’s shoulders.
As though none of that had happened, Ketahn said, “It is notwhathe is hiding from, but who.”
