Chapter 6
Six
Redmon
Fire. My body was fire. Pain lanced through my side, pulsing with each heartbeat. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. The world swirled around me, a blur of shapes and shadows.
"Stay with me, Redmon."
That voice. Her voice. Kalyndi. I tried to focus, but the fever pulled me under again.
"Again, little one."
My father's massive paw adjusted my stance. I couldn't have been more than five seasons old, my hide still soft and my claws barely formed.
"Remember, we are not the monsters they claim us to be." His voice was gentle, so different from the roars he used when dealing with the council. "Our strength is our burden to control, not our right to unleash."
I lunged at the training post, my small claws leaving shallow marks in the wood.
"Good. Now, breathe through your nose. Control your scent detection. Tell me what you smell."
I inhaled deeply. "Pine. Water. A deer passed by earlier."
Father smiled, his single eye crinkling. "And beyond that?"
I concentrated harder. "Humans. Far away but... there's fear in their scent."
His muscled hand, gentle despite its size, rested on my shoulder. "That fear is not your doing, but you must understand it. One day, perhaps, they won't fear us anymore."
"His temperature's still too high." Kalyndi's voice pulled me back to the present.
Something cool pressed against my forehead. I forced my eyes open. The cave ceiling came into focus, then her face. Dark skin glistening with sweat, her braids pulled back, concern etched across her features.
"You're awake." Relief flooded her voice.
I tried to speak, but my throat felt like I'd swallowed sand. She brought water to my lips.
"The poison's working its way out," she said. "But not fast enough."
I glanced down at my side. Some kind of paste, smelling of herbs and earth, packed the wound. Her hands worked methodically, cleaning around the edges.
"Why?" I croaked.
She paused, looking confused. "Why what?"
"Why help me? You could've run."
Her hands resumed their work. "And go where exactly? Besides, that's not who I am."
I studied her face as she concentrated on my wound. The woman they'd forced to be my mate, my prisoner, really, was saving my life. I recognized the irony, even through the haze of fever.
"The children need that medicine," she added. "And I can't carry it all by myself."
I tried to laugh, but it came out as a groan. "At least you're honest."
"Rest," she said, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. "The fever needs to break before we can move."
Darkness claimed me again.
The fever dreams came and went. Sometimes I was a child again, learning from my father how to move silently despite my size. Other times I was with the council, arguing against their policies.
"They're not just resources," I heard myself saying. "Humans are… "
"They are necessary," Elder Gorn interrupted. "Their genetic diversity saves us from extinction. This is not about feelings, Redmon."
The council chamber dissolved, and suddenly I was back in the cave, Kalyndi's face hovering above mine.
"You were talking in your sleep," she said, pressing a cup to my lips. "Something about humans and genetic diversity."
The bitter liquid slid down my throat. I grimaced, but drank it all.
"Just fever dreams," I mumbled.
"Sounded more like memories." Her eyes, deep brown and unflinching, studied mine.
The fever loosened my tongue. "Did you know the children of human-monster unions are stronger? More resistant to disease. Each generation of pure mapinguari grows weaker."
She sat back on her heels. "So we're breeding stock."
"I don't… " The words caught in my throat. "I never wanted this. The forced unions. I argued against them."
"Yet here we are." Her voice wasn't accusatory, just matter-of-fact.
"Here we are," I agreed, feeling my hypocrisy. "I told myself I was different. That I'd treat you with respect. As if respect could make up for taking your freedom."
She said nothing, just continued tending to my wound.
"Sometimes I think the council is wrong," I continued, words spilling out that I'd never dare utter while clearheaded. "That there must be another way. Voluntary unions, perhaps. Real alliances between our peoples instead of this... arrangement."
Her hands stilled. "Those are dangerous thoughts, Redmon."
"I know." The fever was making the room spin again. "That's why I never act on them. I'm a coward."
Her cool hand pressed against my forehead. "You're delirious. Sleep now."
But as consciousness slipped away, I thought I saw something new in her eyes. Not just determination to survive, but curiosity.
Three days passed before I could stand. My strength, once so reliable, had abandoned me. The wound on my side had closed but remained tender, and the poison had left me weak as a newborn.
"We need to leave today," Kalyndi said, packing her healer's supplies. "The medicine won't keep much longer in this heat."
I nodded, testing my weight on shaky legs. "I can manage."
Her skeptical look said otherwise. "Here." She handed me a sturdy branch, smoothed into a walking staff. "I made this while you were sleeping."
The craftsmanship was impressive. I ran my fingers over the wood, noting the careful carving that formed a comfortable grip.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We've got a long way to go."
The journey that had taken us two days heading out now stretched before us, looking impossibly long. I slung the pack with the precious medicine over my better shoulder. At least I could carry that much.
"Let me," she said, reaching for the pack.
"I'm not completely useless," I growled.
She pulled back, hands raised. "Fine. Collapse if you want. I'll just drag your enormous carcass back to the terramares."
Despite everything, I chuckled. "You've got a sharp tongue for a prisoner."
"And you've got a thick skull for someone who just nearly died." She stepped past me toward the cave entrance. "Coming?"
The forest that I normally moved through with ease had become a gauntlet of obstacles. Roots threatened to trip me, hills left me winded, and by midday, I was leaning heavily on the staff.
Kalyndi walked slightly ahead, constantly scanning our surroundings. When she suddenly raised her hand for me to stop, I froze.
"What is it?" I whispered.
She pointed silently to our right. Through the trees, I caught the movement as human hunters, armed and alert.
"Scavengers," she mouthed.
Rogue humans who preyed on their own kind and would certainly have no mercy for a weakened mapinguari. In my condition, I couldn't fight them off.
Kalyndi motioned for me to follow her, veering left into denser underbrush. My bulk made moving quietly nearly impossible, but she guided me through with remarkable patience, finding paths I would have missed.
When my legs gave out, she found us a sheltered hollow beneath a fallen tree. As I sank down gratefully, I realized how completely our roles had reversed. The protector now needed protection.
"You're good at this," I said as she checked our back trail.
"I wasn't always a healer." She settled beside me, just close enough that I could smell the herbal scent that clung to her skin. "My father taught me to track and hunt before I could walk."
"What happened to him?"
Her face shuttered. "Monsters happened."
The silence that followed felt heavier than my pack.
"Not all of us… " I began.
"Don't." She cut me off. "Just don't. Not now."
I nodded and closed my eyes, conserving strength for the journey ahead.
The terramares came into view as the sun set on our fourth day of travel. The human settlement was smaller than our villages but well-organized, with gardens surrounding clay and timber buildings.
Children spotted us first. Instead of running in fear as they normally did when I approached, they raced toward us, toward Kalyndi, with cries of excitement.
"She's back! Kalyndi's back!"
Adults emerged from buildings, faces lighting up when they saw her. Then darkening when they noticed me stumbling along behind.
An older woman pushed through the crowd. "You found it? The shadowroot?"
Kalyndi nodded, shrugging off the pack I'd insisted on carrying through the settlement. "Enough for all the sick children and some to spare."
The cheer that went up was deafening. Hands reached for Kalyndi, pulling her into embraces. The crowd passed her around while I awkwardly stood at the sides of the celebration.
A small child, only four, stared up at me without fear. "Are you sick too?" she asked, pointing at my bandaged side.
I crouched down, wincing at the pull on my wound. "I was. Your healer made me better."
The girl nodded solemnly. "She's making my brother better too."
The child's mother snatched her away, eyeing me warily.
I straightened and followed the crowd to what appeared to be their medical building. Inside, children lay on pallets, their skin pale and marked with the telltale purple spots of the forest fever.
Kalyndi worked quickly, preparing the shadowroot into a tincture. I watched from the doorway as she administered it to each child, speaking softly, encouraging them to drink the bitter medicine.
The reverence with which the terramares people treated her was striking. This wasn't just respect for her healing skills. This was love. They loved her. And watching her gentle competence, I understood why.
I was resting against the side of our assigned dwelling when they arrived. Three officials in the sharp uniforms of Magnus Terra, the human government that collaborated with the monster council.
They barely acknowledged me as they strode past, heading straight for where Kalyndi was checking on patients. I struggled to my feet, using the wall for support, and followed.
"Healer Kalyndi," the lead official said. "Your success with the medicine retrieval is noted. However, we're here for your three-month assessment."
Kalyndi's back stiffened. "Assessment?"
"Your union with Redmon of the North Forest Clan." The woman's voice was all business. "The terms of your arrangement require regular reporting on compatibility and potential fertility."
I stepped forward. "She's been busy saving lives. Your assessment can wait."
The official finally looked at me, her gaze clinical. "Actually, it cannot. The purpose of these unions is clear, and delays are unacceptable."
"We've been focused on the mission," Kalyndi said, her voice carefully neutral. "There's been little time for other activities."
The woman made a note on her tablet. "Unfortunate. The council is particularly interested in your pairing."
"Why mine specifically?" I asked, suspicion growing.
The second official, a thin man with cold eyes, spoke up. "Your genetic profiles suggest an 87% compatibility rate. Higher than most pairings."
"And what does that mean for any offspring?" Kalyndi asked, her expression guarded.
The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "It means any children would be of special interest to both our governments. Special plans have been discussed."
"What plans?" I demanded.
"That's classified information," the man said. "But rest assured, your contribution to our future would be appropriately recognized."
My skin crawled at his words. Children as experiments. As weapons, perhaps. This was exactly what I'd feared, what I'd argued against in council.
"We'll need a full physical examination of both of you," the woman continued. "And detailed accounts of your interactions."
"Not today," I growled, drawing myself up to my full height despite the pain. "My mate has patients to attend to. And I'm recovering from injuries sustained while completing your mission."
The officials exchanged glances.
"Very well," the woman said finally. "You have one week. Then we expect full compliance."
As they left, I caught Kalyndi's eye. The fear I saw there matched my own.
Night had fallen by the time we returned to our dwelling. It was a simple structure, allocated to us for our stay in the terramares. Previously, I'd slept outside, giving Kalyndi privacy inside an attempt at respecting her space despite our forced situation.
When I entered, intending only to check on her before finding a spot to rest under the stars, I stopped short. In the center of the room was a large pallet, big enough even for my frame, with clean blankets and what appeared to be healing herbs tucked into a sachet nearby.
Kalyndi stood by the small window, watching me. "Your wound needs monitoring," she said, as if that explained everything. "And it's going to rain tonight."
I approached the pallet carefully. "You didn't have to… "
"I know I didn't have to." She moved to a basin of water, washing her hands. "I chose to."
I sat on the pallet, feeling the strange tension between us. After today, after the officials' visit and their talk of "special plans," everything felt different.
"Thank you," I said finally. "Not just for this. For everything these past days. You saved my life."
She nodded, not quite meeting my eyes. "Rest. We have decisions to make in the morning."
As I lay down, feeling the comfort of a real bed for the first time in weeks, I realized this small gesture, this choice to share her space was more meaningful than any grand declaration. In a world where so much was forced upon us, she freely gave me this.
And somehow, that made all the difference.