HELLOOOOOOOO

So it's a short one today, only bc I couldn't add stuff bc it messes with the timeline of the story and adding stuff from other chappie messes with the flow, so this is what we get. Sorry haha (dont hate me)

I feel like this chapter's contents might make up for its shortness though so let's see :)

He was pain.

No, he wasn't in pain. He was pain. How could one wound hurt so bloody much? He hurt everywhere.

"Well, that happens when the weapon was laced in a virus designed to kill you," an instantly infuriating voice said, right next to him.

Link stifled a growl, but it slipped through as he tried to sit up. Mania glared at him, free of his bonds. That alone was enough to make Link's brow twitch. "Don't bust your stitches, mutt. She worked hard enough to save your sorry arse. Don't ruin it."

Stitches? She? "The hell 're you talkin' about," Link mumbled, grinding his teeth as pain spread out like waves through his body, starting at his shoulder.

Fighting nausea, he looked down.

His shoulder was death white, as opposed to the usual tan, and punctuated with black veins spreading down nearly to his bicep. Rough stitches sewed a hole at the center of the veins closed, leaking blood and . . . was that pus?

He lost the fight and vomited.

Mania regarded him with disgust while Link wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "By the Holy Three, you're nasty. Did you have to do that right in front of me?"

Link had enough energy to roll his eyes, at least. "If you don't like it, then don't look, dumb shit," he muttered, gearing up to get to his feet. Another wave of nausea approached and he groaned, shutting his eyes tight.

Mania grunted. "Is she awake?"

Link almost snapped, How the hell should I know, when another voice answered instead. "Yes. Don't bother, kitten. She doesn't want to see anyone."

A snarl. "I told you not to call me that."

Link could almost hear her roll her eyes. "And I told you not to eat those berries and give Spitfire more trouble, but did you listen?"

Mumbling prompted Link to snort. "You ate random berries you found in an unfamiliar jungle?" he asked, opening his eyes to look incredulously at Mania. "After we were just attacked?"

Mania glared at him. "They weren't random, they looked just like hawthorne berries from the pridelands, and--ugh, just shut up," he snarled, facing away from Link.

Link laughed, just to agitate him some more. "Yeah, I'm sure. Hey, what about that snake over there? Does that look like one from the pridelands, too? Oh, but I'm sure it's totally safe, though."

Sunset snickered. "After all, it's not as if appearances are deceiving, or anything."

"No way. I'm sure that snake anima would kindly tell us intruders what's safe and what's poisonous--"

"All right, all right!" Mania roared, sending Link and Sunset into cackling hysteria. "By the Three, shut up already!"

Link might have kept laughing, but the sudden movement and energy burst made him nauseas again, and he ended up vomiting to the side. Sunset picked on him for it, Mania just glared at the world, and Link groaned loudly, bemoaning his state of being.

They all knew it wouldn't last, the joking, the bantering. They were running on time that was swiftly evaporating, trying to have a good time before reality set back in, latching onto them like a leech. And with it, came the fear.

It came a bit too soon, heralded by Spitfire's appearance from the other clearing. She looked right at Link, and he felt his smile drop away as he met her gaze. His hand went to his shoulder, fingers dancing over the wound.

Spitfire's gaze drifted to his shoulder as well, swallowing, and without a word she turned and went back to her clearing. Link didn't need words, though. He stood and followed her, ignoring the amber and golden gazes searing the back of his head as he did so.

This clearing was darker than the other; Sunset had set little kitsune fires around to lighten the area. But here, there were no fires. The stream cut through on Link's left as he sat, suddenly nervous, but unable to say why. Through the thick foliage around them, tiny lights drifted through, illuminating Spitfire's face.

She met his gaze, and his mouth suddenly dry, Link watched her throat bob. She was so beautiful it hurt, and though he was in a ridiculous amount of pain, though he could barely remember what happened earlier beyond fear, a flash of golden and then darkness, he knew he'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

He'd die, for her.

Link stiffened as the realization set in, the knowledge that rocked him right to his soul. The soul. He'd have tsked if Spitfire hadn't been shifting nervously, struggling to form words. Pesky thing, it is.

He focused as Spitfire took a deep breath, but it was difficult. Every one of his cells craved her touch, his mind ran itself in circles trying to figure out how it had happened. How could he have--

"Thank you," Spitfire said, voice hoarse. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Link broke out of his musings with a jolt. She's been crying. Because of me.

He swallowed hard. "It's okay," he managed, wincing at the huskiness of his voice. Don't be so obvious. "Don't worry about it."

"I have to," she whispered, so quickly that he wondered if she'd been waiting to say it. But then she blinked, and her face flushed. "I--that is, I'm a healer, and--"

A snort bubbled up inside Link, and he let it out. He held up a hand, stopping the cheetah's stuttering. "It's fine. I understand."

His body screeched in resistance. No, we certainly do not! It yelled at him, beating his mind with clenched fists. Make her blush more!

Shut up, his mind snarled back.

She was staring at him. Link cleared his throat, feeling heat crawl up his neck. By the Three, she was so . . .

"So . . . how long have you been able to . . ." He trailed off, but Spitfire caught his meaning. She coughed, looking everywhere but at him. "I . . . I've been able to heal since I was born," she said softly, and Link sensed by the tone of her voice that there was a story behind this. He leaned forward almost unconsciously, waiting.

After a few false starts, Spitfire managed, "My mother . . . was a descendant of a race of healers. They weren't from this land, and so when she met my father . . . she had trouble with the birth." She swallowed. "With me."

"Afterward, she was weaker. Even though I had inherited the healing power, she couldn't access her own. So when she got into her accident, and was wounded . . . she needed me."

Spitfire's voice had deteriorated into a whisper. Link's every muscle wanted to go to her and comfort her, but he forced himself to stay put. It superseded his jealousy of her having parents, a mother and father who loved her, it made his own pain seem irrelevant.

Spitfire wiped her face quickly. "She needed me, but when I saw her, saw the blood, and her . . . so weak," she cried, trembling. "She called for me, she begged me to help her, she had so much faith in me . . . but I couldn't do it. I couldn't heal my own mother. And she died because of me!"

She buried her face in her hands, while Link sat, dumbfounded. So many things made sense now. Why she'd been so shell-shocked after healing Night Vision, why she'd been so desperate to heal him, from what the others had told him. From what he'd sensed, in the brief snatches of consciousness, punctuated by pain and sharp pangs of feeling that were not his own.

Spitfire wiped her face. "My father mated again after she died. Spots is my half-brother. Even though we're not fully related, he, and my father, are the closest things I have to her. To family. And I . . . ever since then, I haven't been able to heal. Until now." She raised her head, looking Link dead in the eyes. "Until you."

He wanted to kiss her. That was a bad sign. A really bad sign. But he discarded his common sense in favor of holding her hand. A slight intake of breath was her only reaction, but she didn't pull away. It gave him the courage to run his fingers over her palm, to trace her own fingers. Slim, soft, stained with blood.

He couldn't stop a joke. "It seems I'm always injured when you're around."

Spitfire huffed a laugh, the tiny lights shining on her golden eyes. "You did say you liked dangerous women."

He had said that. Link snickered, inordinately pleased that she'd remembered, but . . .

He met her gaze. "But you healed before me. With Night Vision, you . . ."

Spitfire was shaking her head, her smile almost gone. Link wanted to bring it back, cursing himself for chasing it away. "No, Howler."

Holy Three, but the way she said that. She looked into his eyes. "Night Vision was too far gone," she said, softly. So soft. Just like her hands. "He was dying. With him, I only prolonged it. But . . . you were the first. In ten years," she whispered, like she couldn't believe it.

Link felt his heart beating a staccato beat against his chest, felt his common sense finally slip away with a dying cry. He kept hold of her hand, finding strength in the smooth skin--they were so small, cradled in his larger hands.

She was waiting, and somehow that made it harder. Or was it easier? He couldn't tell anymore. Link swallowed hard, looking up at her, and through whatever power she held over him, whatever she'd done to make him feel this way, his fears fell away, enough to finally speak.

"My parents . . . left me when I was a cub."

Once they were out, Link felt the last of his strength fade. It was all borrowed now, borrowed from the cheetah inches from him. Sometime during this they'd leaned toward each other, and only now did Link realize that he was burning, something in him scalded with heat--and the closer he got to Spitfire, the hotter it became.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the emotions still inside him, even after all this time. "They took me to a clearing, in the woods," he managed, and he hated how his throat closed up. "I thought we were going for a walk. But my mother . . . dropped me in the grass, and just . . . walked away."

His voice was a whisper. Her hand shook in his, and he realized with a small shock that it was him shaking, not her. "That was the last time I saw them," he finished, meeting her gaze, begging her for some strength, for some way to finally get over this. It was, what, twenty years? He wanted to forget. He wanted to leave the pain behind, the wondering, the agony of not knowing.

"Please," he whispered, and it took a moment to realize he'd spoken aloud. "Take it away."

He heard her suck in a short breath, and then let it out slowly. "Oh," she murmured.

He could feel it inside. The thing that made him wild around her, that made him able to be like this around her, a way he'd never been with anyone--it wasn't yet complete. There was one more step.

Link lifted his head, seeing Spitfire raise her hands to his face, holding him, a sort of wonder in her eyes. Help me, he pleaded. Heal me like you did before.

"You . . . you are so much more," she finally whispered, and he shook in her grasp. He was at her mercy now. "You've held this inside for so long. Let it go. Howl away the pain. You don't need them to know you are loved."

She sucked in a tiny breath, as if she hadn't meant to say that, but it was already done. Link relaxed in her grip, his forehead touching hers lightly, and he let out a soft sigh.

The tether inside him was locked, sealed right into the fabric of his essence. It was done.

He had Imprinted on Spitfire.

OOOOOOH HOWLER.

My babies T_T

Not so much a turning point for the story as it is for their relationship but it was definitely my favorite to write so far :)))

Review replies.

StJames1: lmaooo thanks. I found a meme on insta that I'll send you, or maybe I'll post it *shrugs* it was hilarious though

HAHA yeah you kinda did but it's all good. I only wanted to kill you a few times lmao.

Yessss. Easter eggs, baby *finger guns*

To JamesBirdsong: thanks! I'm glad you enjoy it :)