Chapter 53
Temnavi
For seven years, the better part of his young life, Temnavi had been training.
On days when Atem couldn't train him, Temnavi either did exercises that Atem had set for him, did lessons on the training computer, or both.
He was going to be dominani one day. Whenever Atem was ready to retire honorably.
Both to regain his clan's honor, and to honor the male he didn't feel he had the right to call his father.
Running was easy. Running on sand was easy. He did that every day.
The hard part was leaving Peony behind.
Though he didn't deserve a sire and dam, he had gotten them.
More than that, his new dam was breeding.
He was to have a sibling. A family. Something he didn't think he'd ever have after his first dam surrendered him to his blood father and left Turv completely to seek adventure.
A rare occurrence but one that had set his fate.
He was old enough to be out of the nest and into his own room, but poor Peony, his whelping dam, needed to return to her nest. His unborn sibling needed to return to their nest. He had to make sure they were safe. For them and to honor his new sire.
But it still hurt so much to leave her behind. He wished desperately that he was stronger. That his aching claws would fully emerge. That he was a proper warrior.
Wishing wouldn't help him now though. He had only one option, and that was to put as much distance between himself and his new dam as possible. To find his sire. To bring him to her so he could see her put back in her nest.
Temnavi was a young domini, but instincts were ingrained deeply and protecting the clan was something he had both been bred and trained to do.
He heard the howls of the ratchi and knew they were tracking him. He had decided to study up on the ratchi after the attack in the market. A knowledgeable fighter was preferable to a strong one. It was an old lesson from the Omoni Otorsi.
The ratchi were from swamps and marshlands on their home planet.
They would be completely ill at ease in the desert.
The webbing between their feet that helped them swim would be beneficial on the sand but didn't compete with a domini's natural climbing abilities.
They were also far more pack minded than the domini.
While loyalty to your clan was taught from a young age, and was even embedded in their instincts, it was nothing compared to the bond that created ratchi pack members.
But the two that chased him were down one pack member.
A three-legged beast that was suddenly missing a leg.
They would be weakened without him. Moreover, their sense of smell was dependent upon a moist environment, and the dry desert air would prevent them from being able to track him as he raced over the dunes, staying up high where their greater weight and bulk made it harder for them to reach.
Temnavi was young, weak, and clawless, but he was a knowledgeable warrior and he knew the direction he needed to travel, guided by the position of the moons, to get back to the Home Forest. If he had to run all the way back to Calvitorum, then he would.
Protect his dam. Protect his sibling. A dominani was the den protector of his entire people, and Temnavi could never bear that burden if he couldn't even protect his clan.
And winning wasn't always in the battle. Sometimes, it was in how you didn't battle.
The Omoni Otorsi's wisdom was a pale comfort when he felt like he was abandoning his dam because he was too weak to defend her though.
A howl ripping through the air was his warning that he had been spotted.
Gritting his teeth so hard his fangs ached, he tried to force more speed from his legs.
He could barely see the changing terrain in the far distance, lit up by the glow of the dual moons.
It was so far; it would take him probably a full mark to close that distance.
And the forest of home lay far beyond that. He would have to run the entire night.
But he wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to fail his dam.
The muffled thudding of heavy footsteps on the ground alerted him that the ratchi were closing in on him.
He wasn't going to be able to outrun them.
He wasn't big enough. Not strong enough.
Even if he could keep out of their reach through the rolling desert, the moment the ground hardened and smoothed, he would be easy prey.
The knowledge of the futility of his flight didn't stop him from running.
They were flanking him. One on each side. And they were close. He could feel the thudding of their bare, clawed feet on the sand as they closed the small distance.
No! He couldn't fail!
Something snagged his tail, and he cried out in pain as he was yanked back.
“Caught you!” The ratchi who dug his claws into his tail said, snarling with the excited victory of a hunter with their hands on their pray.
Temnavi snarled, swiping out with his one claw. Uselessly. The claw was emerged, but it hadn't hardened fully yet. It was more similar to Peony's thin claws than Atem's. He cursed his youth as the ratchi laughed at him.
His brethren came to join him, looking just as amused at Temnavi's struggles.
“Look at his little fangs,” he said while the first ratchi yanked on his tail, sending sharp jolts of pain up his spine. “He'll be a cute little servant for our clavas.”
“Watch how he squirms,” the other said, kicking Temnavi's arm out from under him, forcing more weight on his tail. He yipped in pain but redoubled his struggles.
They laughed at him. Amused by his pain and his flailing. Temnavi burned with humiliation and helplessness even as he continued to swipe, pointlessly, at their thick, scaled legs.
“Do you think they use their tails for balance too?” The second one asked, plucking at his tail like it was a taught string.
“One way to find out,” the other chuckled, raising his razor-sharp claws.
Temnavi's heart stuttered as fear nearly choked him.
Neither ratchi saw the shadow appear behind them, red eyes gleaming in the darkness. But Temnavi did. And the sight nearly made him weep with relief.
Fierce pride and joy filled him when his father's claws ripped through the ratchis' throats from behind, spraying blue blood everywhere. The grip on his tail went slack and Temnavi hit the sand, his entire lower back aching from the pressure put on it.
Atem stepped carelessly over the bodies of the bleeding, seizing ratchi, reached down, and lifted Temnavi to his feet as he kneeled before him.
“Are you all right?” His father asked, running his bloodied hands over his arms, his legs, checking for any wounds.
“Peony...” Temnavi tried to say, panting, pointing into the desert.
“I know.” Atem leaned forward and kissed his forehead before standing. “Tuvo. Take Temnavi. I'm going to follow the tracks.”
Temnavi hadn't even seen Tuvo. First Warrior hadn't attempted to help Atem dispatch the two ratchi that were, now, still and dead on the dune. He stepped over their bodies just as Atem had, reaching out for Temnavi who quickly ran to his side.
“Do you need my aid, Atem?” He asked, putting at hand to Temnavi’s back.
Atem growled, snarling in the darkness, fangs and eyes gleaming. “Yes. I'll need something to transport their bodies when I'm done.”
Turning, he sprinted into the desert, following the trail Temnavi had left behind that had not yet been covered by the soft wind.
He lifted his eyes to Tuvo as the older male leaned over and picked him up, sliding him onto his back where he clung to him like a pup.
“I'm sorry,” he said, clutching him desperately as they walked away from the ratchi, heading towards a hover that Temnavi hadn't heard or seen approaching.
“You did well, young one,” he said, his voice rumbling powerfully through his chest.
“But I couldn't do anything. I couldn't fight. I couldn't protect Peony.”
“You protected yourself, and sometimes, that is all you can ask. Atem will protect Peony. You should be proud that you escaped and have now given us a chance to follow your trail to her.” Tuvo grinned at him over his shoulder.
“We can properly begin your training tomorrow.
I think you've well proven yourself worthy of learning, despite your age.”
Temnavi beamed, excited, clinging tighter onto his back. He had no worries that his father would find his mother and both of them would safely be back soon.