A/N: Here I go again, answering reviews at the beginning. Oh well, live
with it.
LadySatineThreepwood: I'll read it as soon as I can, but don't stop because I'm sure it's good.
Spice: Anything to keep me from feeling your wrath!
Numair's Daine: See, I figured out a way to twist those new characters into the plot-just wait. Enter: The Graveyard Hag! But, you'll have to wait a few chapters for that.
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Damae walked towards the single huge cage, with its huge inhabitant. She thought it looked out of place in her village, like a big sign declaring the viciousness of human nature in the middle of a crowd of people who had never touched a weapon. Not that her people were defenseless-far from it. It was just that she had never known them to be bad-but what good person would do this to a creature?
When she reached the bars, Hesta jumped out of her arms, and twined her large, sleek body around Damae's legs. Dareem came up behind her and unlocked the door. It swung open with a slight, ill-boding creak, and she shuddered in spite of herself. Well, nothing for it now. She ducked and took a step forward, Hesta with her. Kneeling down by the great cat's head, she held her breath in awe. Where it was still clean, the lioness's fur was sleek, with a beautiful golden tint. But the magnificence of this creature was hard to see under the blood and grime that coated her. Its jaw was open, revealing great teeth and gums coated in dried blood, giving the mouth a black lining. One of its ears was ripped, and blood had covered it and a big part of that side of her head and neck. The chest fur was scorched black, as if she had leaped through a fire, and her back was lined with red welts, which, Damae could tell, had just begun to heal. Horrified, she realized what they were-whip marks, some of which had opened again and had been oozing blood, not to mention various small and not-so-small cuts all over the lioness's body. Both her forepaws had been slashed at, and it looked like someone had tried to cut of her tail, only succeeding in giving it a deep red rip. One of the back paws looked disjointed-sprained, Damae thought. And, she remembered, this animal had supposedly been traveling for well over a day with a heavy burden on her back, plus all these wounds. The student-healer was just about ready to declare her patient a hero, and, if she hadn't been an animal, she would have.
Glancing around her, Damae saw Medaio, with her healer bag and a large jug of hot water. Gratefully, she smiled at him and reached through the still open door to take them from him. 'Good luck,' he mouthed, and then he turned and walked back to the leader's house. Damae only allowed herself a moment of regretting that he had left, and then got to work. Changing her position a little, she gingerly lifted the long, sweeping tail, and cleaned the wound with a strip of cloth dipped into the water, which had quickly been boiled for her. When the wound was clean, and, inevitably, bleeding again, Damae pulled a long strip out of her bag to bind it, wrapping it round the area where she had applied a healing cream made of plants that were renowned for their healing power. Then, gathering materials for a makeshift splint, she gently eased the back paw back to the way it was supposed to go, and set it. That was when she noticed the first movement-it was only a natural reaction, but at least dead cats didn't twitch their tails. That made her think of Hesta-but she was sitting comfortably, nestled between the larger cat's impressive front paws as if she had done it all her life. Smiling to herself, Damae kept working. It took her a full hour to get all the scrapes and cuts on her back, ear, and everywhere else cleaned and either bandaged or smeared with cream. The lioness's chest itself, she found, wasn't burned, which was a relief. With the rest of her now cooled water, she carefully cleaned the gums of the atrocious blood that covered them, and then poured it carefully into the cavern of a mouth, taking care that it didn't choke her. Satisfied that she had done as much as she could, Damae sat back on her heels and watched the big cat's breathing, in sync with that of her own cat. She smiled and stood, and, in the gathering dusk, collected her supplies. Leaving the cage, she locked it behind her with a twinge of guilt, and then set off to return the keys to Dareem, noticing that Hesta had chosen to stay with her large cousin. On her way back to her own hut (she had, unlike many women, chosen to take one for herself), she stopped at Medaio's to tell him how it had gone, and also simply to see him. He was staring into the fire thought fully when she entered, without knocking, as was their habit. When he saw her he grinned, and motioned for her to sit down. Together, the two friends and unknown loves recounted the day's events and mused on them, and shared stories and jokes, enjoying being together as they had from the first day they met. It was well past dark before Damae left.
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Daine slowly opened her eyelids, wincing at the pain that covered her. Numair, was her first thought. Trying to reconstruct the events that were the last she remembered, she felt sure that he was safe. This was enough to comfort Daine, and even the fact that her whole body hurt didn't stop her from drifting almost immediately into a restful sleep.
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The early morning sun pierced through Daine's eyelids like spears of light. Slowly, her lids opened back, and she blinked and yawned. She had had a good sleep, and felt much more awake and energetic now. Someone had doctored her wounds, and they stung and smarted where they had been cleared. Her hind foot throbbed but wasn't as painful as it had been before. Slowly, she rose to her feet, keeping her weight off the injured foot. Leisurely, she stretched, almost savoring the twanging of her muzzles and the pain across her skin. Looking around her, she saw, through the bars of a constraining cage, a deserted street, with small cottages on either side. It reminded her somewhat of her own village in Snowsdale, except that it looked much more welcoming in its sunny, empty state. Twitching her tail back and forth, Daine weighed her options. If she changed and was gone now, she could find clothes and dress before coming back. If she stayed a lioness, they would probably kill her. It was a much better idea to change immediately. Finding her power, Daine tried to change into an animal that might fit through the bars. A mouse, for instance. She willed her mind into mouse form, but it wouldn't work. She couldn't change. Human, then, if mouse wouldn't work. But her human form wouldn't respond either. Frantically, Daine tried to remember if any magic-binding bonds had been put on her, but she couldn't place any. Maybe they had been recent and unnoticed. But then there came another dread. Numair hadn't been able to change back to human shape when they met. Could the same thing be happening to her? Would she stay a lioness forever? Daine forced her panicking mind to calmness, and looked inside herself for the core of her power. She found it, but nearly lost her grip when she saw her inner power. A tiny puncture in the rune that Numair had created was slowly leaking copper into the white fire in the center. Her only hope now was that Numair would find out and stop the slow stream before it did any real damage, and she lost her mind. Daine let go of her grip on the worrisome picture, and stretched up onto the solid iron bars of her prison and roared in frustration, anger, and fear. The noise reverberated everywhere, effectively waking the village.
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Numair shot upright in his bed, his nerves taught and the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. A deep, mellow sound echoed throughout the place where he slept, a sound filled with a sense of being trapped. Instinctively, he knew the maker. Daine. It was like she had called him, somehow, out of his deep sleep to help her. Fumbling with the covers, Numair felt some of his strength return as he stood up shakily. For a moment, he swayed, then went determinedly to the chair where he saw his clothes, cleaned and patched together, lying in a neat, folded pile. Dressing, he looked around his room. It was small, with one door and a window close to the ceiling. The un-shuttered window streamed light, and he wondered why he hadn't woken before. It was sparsely furnished, with just his overly small bed and the chair that he was sitting on now, pulling on his socks. Standing up again, Numair felt a wave of returning fatigue, but instead of lying back down, he tottered towards the door and opened it, ducking into a small living room. It was in the same small and simple style as his room, not well lighted, and not very clean, he noticed. But when Numair took a step towards the curtained door, his knees gave out and he collapsed back into a chair, unable to support himself and hating it.
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A/N: This is going to be a loooooong story. These are a little like filler chapters for you guys, I guess, but I promise that Daine and Numair will be completely reunited by the next chapter. Please review!
LadySatineThreepwood: I'll read it as soon as I can, but don't stop because I'm sure it's good.
Spice: Anything to keep me from feeling your wrath!
Numair's Daine: See, I figured out a way to twist those new characters into the plot-just wait. Enter: The Graveyard Hag! But, you'll have to wait a few chapters for that.
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Damae walked towards the single huge cage, with its huge inhabitant. She thought it looked out of place in her village, like a big sign declaring the viciousness of human nature in the middle of a crowd of people who had never touched a weapon. Not that her people were defenseless-far from it. It was just that she had never known them to be bad-but what good person would do this to a creature?
When she reached the bars, Hesta jumped out of her arms, and twined her large, sleek body around Damae's legs. Dareem came up behind her and unlocked the door. It swung open with a slight, ill-boding creak, and she shuddered in spite of herself. Well, nothing for it now. She ducked and took a step forward, Hesta with her. Kneeling down by the great cat's head, she held her breath in awe. Where it was still clean, the lioness's fur was sleek, with a beautiful golden tint. But the magnificence of this creature was hard to see under the blood and grime that coated her. Its jaw was open, revealing great teeth and gums coated in dried blood, giving the mouth a black lining. One of its ears was ripped, and blood had covered it and a big part of that side of her head and neck. The chest fur was scorched black, as if she had leaped through a fire, and her back was lined with red welts, which, Damae could tell, had just begun to heal. Horrified, she realized what they were-whip marks, some of which had opened again and had been oozing blood, not to mention various small and not-so-small cuts all over the lioness's body. Both her forepaws had been slashed at, and it looked like someone had tried to cut of her tail, only succeeding in giving it a deep red rip. One of the back paws looked disjointed-sprained, Damae thought. And, she remembered, this animal had supposedly been traveling for well over a day with a heavy burden on her back, plus all these wounds. The student-healer was just about ready to declare her patient a hero, and, if she hadn't been an animal, she would have.
Glancing around her, Damae saw Medaio, with her healer bag and a large jug of hot water. Gratefully, she smiled at him and reached through the still open door to take them from him. 'Good luck,' he mouthed, and then he turned and walked back to the leader's house. Damae only allowed herself a moment of regretting that he had left, and then got to work. Changing her position a little, she gingerly lifted the long, sweeping tail, and cleaned the wound with a strip of cloth dipped into the water, which had quickly been boiled for her. When the wound was clean, and, inevitably, bleeding again, Damae pulled a long strip out of her bag to bind it, wrapping it round the area where she had applied a healing cream made of plants that were renowned for their healing power. Then, gathering materials for a makeshift splint, she gently eased the back paw back to the way it was supposed to go, and set it. That was when she noticed the first movement-it was only a natural reaction, but at least dead cats didn't twitch their tails. That made her think of Hesta-but she was sitting comfortably, nestled between the larger cat's impressive front paws as if she had done it all her life. Smiling to herself, Damae kept working. It took her a full hour to get all the scrapes and cuts on her back, ear, and everywhere else cleaned and either bandaged or smeared with cream. The lioness's chest itself, she found, wasn't burned, which was a relief. With the rest of her now cooled water, she carefully cleaned the gums of the atrocious blood that covered them, and then poured it carefully into the cavern of a mouth, taking care that it didn't choke her. Satisfied that she had done as much as she could, Damae sat back on her heels and watched the big cat's breathing, in sync with that of her own cat. She smiled and stood, and, in the gathering dusk, collected her supplies. Leaving the cage, she locked it behind her with a twinge of guilt, and then set off to return the keys to Dareem, noticing that Hesta had chosen to stay with her large cousin. On her way back to her own hut (she had, unlike many women, chosen to take one for herself), she stopped at Medaio's to tell him how it had gone, and also simply to see him. He was staring into the fire thought fully when she entered, without knocking, as was their habit. When he saw her he grinned, and motioned for her to sit down. Together, the two friends and unknown loves recounted the day's events and mused on them, and shared stories and jokes, enjoying being together as they had from the first day they met. It was well past dark before Damae left.
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Daine slowly opened her eyelids, wincing at the pain that covered her. Numair, was her first thought. Trying to reconstruct the events that were the last she remembered, she felt sure that he was safe. This was enough to comfort Daine, and even the fact that her whole body hurt didn't stop her from drifting almost immediately into a restful sleep.
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The early morning sun pierced through Daine's eyelids like spears of light. Slowly, her lids opened back, and she blinked and yawned. She had had a good sleep, and felt much more awake and energetic now. Someone had doctored her wounds, and they stung and smarted where they had been cleared. Her hind foot throbbed but wasn't as painful as it had been before. Slowly, she rose to her feet, keeping her weight off the injured foot. Leisurely, she stretched, almost savoring the twanging of her muzzles and the pain across her skin. Looking around her, she saw, through the bars of a constraining cage, a deserted street, with small cottages on either side. It reminded her somewhat of her own village in Snowsdale, except that it looked much more welcoming in its sunny, empty state. Twitching her tail back and forth, Daine weighed her options. If she changed and was gone now, she could find clothes and dress before coming back. If she stayed a lioness, they would probably kill her. It was a much better idea to change immediately. Finding her power, Daine tried to change into an animal that might fit through the bars. A mouse, for instance. She willed her mind into mouse form, but it wouldn't work. She couldn't change. Human, then, if mouse wouldn't work. But her human form wouldn't respond either. Frantically, Daine tried to remember if any magic-binding bonds had been put on her, but she couldn't place any. Maybe they had been recent and unnoticed. But then there came another dread. Numair hadn't been able to change back to human shape when they met. Could the same thing be happening to her? Would she stay a lioness forever? Daine forced her panicking mind to calmness, and looked inside herself for the core of her power. She found it, but nearly lost her grip when she saw her inner power. A tiny puncture in the rune that Numair had created was slowly leaking copper into the white fire in the center. Her only hope now was that Numair would find out and stop the slow stream before it did any real damage, and she lost her mind. Daine let go of her grip on the worrisome picture, and stretched up onto the solid iron bars of her prison and roared in frustration, anger, and fear. The noise reverberated everywhere, effectively waking the village.
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Numair shot upright in his bed, his nerves taught and the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. A deep, mellow sound echoed throughout the place where he slept, a sound filled with a sense of being trapped. Instinctively, he knew the maker. Daine. It was like she had called him, somehow, out of his deep sleep to help her. Fumbling with the covers, Numair felt some of his strength return as he stood up shakily. For a moment, he swayed, then went determinedly to the chair where he saw his clothes, cleaned and patched together, lying in a neat, folded pile. Dressing, he looked around his room. It was small, with one door and a window close to the ceiling. The un-shuttered window streamed light, and he wondered why he hadn't woken before. It was sparsely furnished, with just his overly small bed and the chair that he was sitting on now, pulling on his socks. Standing up again, Numair felt a wave of returning fatigue, but instead of lying back down, he tottered towards the door and opened it, ducking into a small living room. It was in the same small and simple style as his room, not well lighted, and not very clean, he noticed. But when Numair took a step towards the curtained door, his knees gave out and he collapsed back into a chair, unable to support himself and hating it.
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A/N: This is going to be a loooooong story. These are a little like filler chapters for you guys, I guess, but I promise that Daine and Numair will be completely reunited by the next chapter. Please review!