Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Perri clapped her hands and went to work immediately, going through the small brush to find kindling.
I focused on clearing a spot for a fire behind a nice boulder, where we could have a decent lookout with our backs up against stone. With Canavar’s help we propped Veskor up against the rock. He was out cold, but at least clean and bandaged. Canavar flopped down next to me, face stony.
“Sufficient?” I asked, gesturing to his wing. After packing the wound with mud, I bound it to his shoulder to keep him from moving it.
“We’re going to be slow as fuck now,” he complained, digging into the ground with a claw.
“Perhaps that is best,” I said quietly, so as to not alert Perri. “Veskor was not doing well. Both of you need to rest.”
He bristled, but didn’t contradict me.
“He … did well. He is a good fighter,” he admitted begrudgingly. “It would be fun to spar with him once we are both well.”
I snorted. “Convince your mate not to eviscerate him, and you’ll get your chance.”
His gaze turned thoughtful as Perri ran back to us, arms full of twigs.
“Well done, little one,” I praised her. “Let’s arrange them in a circle.”
Nasi returned shortly with a few rabbits, and patiently walked Perri through how to skin them. The little witch was fascinated and horrified all at once.
“Now an even more important skill …” I told her. “How to make fire!”
She laughed like I’d told a joke. “Silly Ronan. Fire is easy.”
Her little face screwed up and she pointed at the little bunch of kindling, which promptly gave off a small ‘whumph’ and then erupted in a burst of small flames.
“Ah,” I said, deflating a bit. “Well, I suppose that’s useful.”
She stuck her tongue out at me as Canavar chuckled and Nasi hid an inappropriate grin behind his knife.
We ate well, even Veskor when he finally stirred, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of cooked meat. He grabbed his saved portion and shoved it all in his mouth at once, as if we’d steal it from him.
“Veskor! Bad manners!” Perri chastised, wiggling her finger at him.
Veskor froze mid-chew, his eyes darting to Perri like a caught animal. For a second, I thought he might bolt—wounded or not—but instead he forced himself to slow, swallowing hard as if remembering how to be something other than feral.
“Sorry,” he muttered, though it came out rough and unused.
Perri huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to chew. Like this.” She exaggerated the motion, taking a tiny bite of her own food and chewing loudly to demonstrate.
Veskor stared at her like she’d just handed him some ancient, sacred knowledge. Awkwardly, he tore off a smaller piece and tried again.
I had to look away to hide the faint pull at the corner of my mouth.
Across the fire, Canavar snorted. “We’ve adopted a wild beast.”
“He fought like one too,” Nasi said mildly, turning the spit of meat over the flames. “Don’t hear you complaining about that.”
Canavar grunted but didn’t argue.
Veskor’s shoulders tensed at their voices, his gaze flicking between them, waiting—still waiting—for the moment this turned. For a blow, an attack, and eventual dismissal. He was so certain betrayal would come. It wasn’t if, but when.
It sat wrong with me, him having such morose expectations, such certainty.
I shifted slightly, drawing his attention back to me.
“You did well,” I said simply.
He blinked like he hadn’t heard me right.
“You saved all of us,” I continued. “That wasn’t nothing. Imagine how you’ll fight when you’re back to full health.”
“I want to see him take on Benedict and Kieran,” Canavar grunted. “Just to see your style of fighting more.”
Veskor’s jaw worked like he didn’t know what to do with the words. His gaze dropped back to his hands, still clutching what little food remained.
“Didn’t do it for you,” he muttered.
“I didn’t say you did,” I chuckled, glancing at Perri.
That earned me a glare, but it lingered a fraction longer than before.
Progress.
It was small and fragile, but real.
The fire burned low as night settled in around us. The plains grew quiet again, though not in that same wrong, hunting silence from before. Wind rustled through the grass, mixing with the distant cry of something nocturnal. The world settled into itself.
We arranged ourselves with our backs to the stone, just as I’d planned.
Perri was snuggled in between us, insisting on cuddling up against Veskor’s chest. She fell asleep almost instantly, Veskor’s arms and wings curled around Perri protectively.
His eyes were heavy and kept twitching, but he refused to sleep.
Canavar protested less than I expected when I insisted we all stay grounded, though I noticed the way his claws dug into the earth every time his wing twitched. He was hurting. Nasi took the first watch without argument. I stayed awake longer than I should have.
“You should sleep,” I told Veskor quietly. “Nasi has the first watch.”
He twitched from his spot on the ground with Perri, eyes open though exhaustion dragged at him. Every so often his gaze would flick to Canavar. To Nasi. To me.
Still waiting for the other claw to drop.
“I do not … I …” He flushed.
“What is it?” I asked gently.
“It … I do not want to wake up and it all be gone,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
I exhaled slowly, keeping my voice even. “I know what that is like. It will get better.”
His ears flared and flattened.
“Truly?” he asked, voice rising in pitch.
“Yes,” I reassured him. “I will argue for your integration into our society. We will leave you on the outside again and we certainly won’t kill you.”
He swallowed, flexing his claws on instinct. “You don’t know what the mother will do.”
“No,” I agreed, “but I know my word.”
That seemed to land somewhere deeper. It wasn’t enough to undo whatever life had carved into him, but for now it was enough.
His head tipped back against the rock. His eyes closed. He wasn’t fully relaxed, or even fully trusting, but he was trying.
I leaned my head back against the stone, staring out into the dark. This was what it felt like to lead. This is what Benedict had meant by taking responsibility that no one else wanted, standing between them and the consequences of everything that came before and after.
We broke camp at first light.
“I hate this. We are not humans,” Canavar grumbled. He was cranky and in pain.
“You cannot fly, and we are not flying on without you,” I explained again, for what felt like the tenth time.
Veskor moved stiffly, but he stayed on his feet. His color had improved slightly, though he still looked like he could collapse at any moment.
Perri, of course, bounced between all of us like none of it had ever happened.
“We will be home soon!” she declared proudly.
“Yes,” I confirmed. Hopefully only a week or so, at most.
“Veskor! I have to show you my dolls and my friend Kya and my favorite tree to climb and–”
“Sweetheart, let Veskor focus on walking, he needs to concentrate,” I reminded her.
Veskor didn’t look well. His scales were dry and flaking.
“Maybe you should fly ahead with him,” I murmured to Nasi.
He frowned. “Perhaps. Let us monitor.”
Our progress was slow and messy and certainly cautious, but no one complained because we were still alive, and because we were moving forward.
Together.