Warnings: Mentions of child death, unbeta'd sleep deprived author.
Tsyeyk's mind focuses. He moves as Father has taught him, as he knows he should. Like a predator. But also, not. They are not his prey. They are parasites. They leech the life, the energy, from Mother. They killed her sons and daughters. Tore apart her trees and flowers and bushes. They killed many of the beasts that lived there and probably displaced many more. It wasn't equal. It wasn't so that they could share the energy between one another. No. They just killed and let the energy fade into nothingness. And they hurt her.
They hurt his mother.
Light flares in an intricate design across his skin as he knocks another arrow, pulling the bow back to aim the next shot. As he does, the parasites look to their fallen, before turning to him, shouts and sounds come from them as they raise the things in their hands to point at him.
Gun, his brain tells him, Semi-automatic rifles. Fire in burst shots of three or single rounds.
He fires off the next arrow, hitting one through the torso and he sails back into the parasite behind him, pinning both to the ground. One still lives, as it screams in agony. But Tsyeyk can't find it in his heart to care. Not about a parasite that probably didn't care for the screams of the beasts - or of Mother. That stood around and let another of them kill that boy. Kill that Omatikaya. One of Mother's children. Someone that Tsyeyk has seen in passing, even if he doesn't quite recall his name at the moment. Their pain was ignored. So too shall the parasite's.
Tsyeyk can hear it's screams only for a moment before the guns go off, drowning the forest in their unnatural miniature explosions. The primal hindbrain in the feral teen knows the sound, knows the danger that comes with it. Knows if he gets hit by it, he could die. So, he has to be smart, and he has to be fast. Tsyeyk races to the nearest thick tree trunk to hide behind, listening to the small explosions pelt the other side, peeling the bark away with each strike. But it holds steady, promising him safety. Mother will help him.
Tsyeyk takes a few, deep breaths despite the ache in his side and in his lungs, forcing himself not to be overwhelmed by the adrenaline coursing through him. He needs to focus. He'll die if he doesn't. It's a mantra he has to keep telling himself to not allow his focus to waver. He'll die if he doesn't focus. He might still die even if he does. But even still, he has to focus. He has to breathe. He has to try.
Mother brushes over his skin. A gentle reminder of the truth. Something that always is. Something that Mo'at was able to put into words for Tsyeyk when he was unable to.
Die or not, it is all borrowed anyway.
It calms him, helps to steady the shaking in his hands. Settle the roaring in his ears. Release the breath caught in his lungs. And pacify the beast battering the cage of his ribs.
"Fear is normal," Eytukan once told him in their lessons. "It comes from the part of us that links us to the Great Mother. This is normal. It is allowing this fear to control us that is an aberration. And like an infection, it must be cured before it spreads."
Clearing of the infection, Tsyeyk takes another breath as he readies his next arrow. A lull in the gun fire, shouts of words that alert him that they are going to wrap around him, forces his movement. He leans out, takes aim and downs another. With the parasite's finger still on the trigger it lets loose bullets that scatter before he collapses. Tsyeyk, behind the trunk once more, loops the bow around his torso and scrambles up the trunk of the tree as fast as he can. He had seen Tsu'tey, for a split second, make his way through one of the windows and into the school before vanishing from sight. Tsyeyk can't focus on his beloved, though. Tsu'tey has to be able to take care of himself. Tsyeyk needs to focus on the parasites.
Three more. Three more.
Once on the branch of his choice, Tsyeyk pulls Tsu'tey's bow off his shoulder and knocks one arrow while palming another. He glances around the tree, locates his next target, then the one after and moves. His body was made for this. Despite these not being his prey, he is a hunter. All of what he remembers, is the hunt. Father taught him that. How to kill. He jumps up onto the branch on the same side as that of the parasites and runs along the length of it, firing down at his first target.
Scream, spay, down. No time to think, just keep moving until the threat is eliminated.
Tsyeyk jumps, knocks the next arrow, twists midair and fires at his second one. This one gets a few shots off before the arrow hits. It cries out in pain, before it stumbles back into the foliage, vanishing from sight. There is a few more shots fired into the air that ricochet off the bark of the trees or hiss through leaves before vanishing forever. The landing is hard enough to hurt Tsyeyk's knees and rattle his teeth, but he doesn't stop from searching, eyes flickering until he spots the final parasite. He saved this one for last. This had been the one that shot and killed the boy. The fellow Omatikaya. One of Tsyeyk's own.
A spray from the gun, a bite to his flesh, but Tsyeyk doesn't stop until he's on the last of the parasites. He stands at almost double their size. He's able to knock the rifle away from the parasite's hands with Tsu'tey's bow before it can hurt him more and grabs hold of the parasite lifting it up and hissing loud enough to silence it. Wide eyes, green like the forest, stare back, lips moving, pouring poison and venom that Tsyeyk doesn't even bother to understand. There is fear, maybe. Sorrow, maybe. But no remorse. No contrition. Not for what they've done.
Rage pools hot in his gut as he carries the parasite into the forest, away from the school and the danger it poses to the Omatikaya still there. He hears his name called but he doesn't stop. He feels the pull deeper into the forest and follows it. A rumble like a storm thundering closer but he doesn't fully hear it, too focused on searching, finding what calls for him.
The parasite claws at him, jabs at the skin on his hand and arm with a sharp knife that he barely feels but definitely bleeds to. But he doesn't care. He doesn't stop.
The parasite screams, kicks, fights, but Tsyeyk doesn't let go. Deeper and deeper, he goes into the forest, following the feeling calling to him. Mother brushing against him, reminding him the one truth of all things in life. The thing that he can't forget despite the pain that he feels.
Movement. His eyes flicker to the haunted faces of Eytukan. Of Mo'at. Of hunters with faces pinched in fear and rage. They look at him. At the parasite. They move through the forest, golden eyes bright. A young teen is with them - not Sylwanin - but there is painted markings on her tear-streaked face.
Mo'at's eyes follow the pattern of his skin. In awe. In reverance. Her lips part. His name is whispered.
Tsyeyk tilts his chin to the parasite, looking between the Omatikaya, his family. Bouncing from one to the next, wondering if they too understood the cost of what has happened.
Snarling. Nantang. They peak from the foliage, Tsyeyk's rage burns within them. The Omatikaya jerk, they shout and yip. The teen moves into the arms of a female that holds her close, backing away slightly. Mo'at snaps something, the Omatikaya stop, as if frozen with her words alone. They watch now, golden eyes filled wide with awe. With understanding. The screams of the parasite turns shrill as Tsyeyk tosses him to the nantang. They snarl. They pounce. They shred. "Take from Mother," he growls, fury burning in his lungs, escaping like smoke with each breath. Each word. "Return to Mother."
The pounding thunder grows deafening. Mo'at yells something as Tsyeyk turns towards it. A beast forces its way through the forest, ripping and tearing at the vines that grab at it. A parasite inside, face twisted in anger.
Tsyeyk crouches, hisses, hair tangled around his head like a messy black halo. His shoulders heaven, his chest hurts, but he will fight this big beast. He grabs at the last two arrows on Tsu'tey's bow. He knocks one, fires it at the beast but it bounces off. His eyes widen, hesitating long enough for the beast to point its own gun at him. It fires.
Like an explosion hammering away at Tsyeyk's eardrums, panic sets in. He freezes a half second before being knocked out of the way by a heavy force. He hits the ground hard and rolls with the other body, Eytukan grabbing onto his arm and pulling him up onto his feet and yanking him away from the spray.
"Father!" Tsyeyk cries. "Father, help!"
Eytukan's grip on Tsyeyk's arm as they hop over at long turns crushing as he nearly yanks it from his socket in an attempt to pull Tsyeyk to the dirt. He yelps in pain, looking up in time to see Father charging through the forest, snarling in rage. He leaps over the top of them and lands on the beast. Tsyeyk twists around, crawling to the log to look over it at Father battling the beast. The Omatikaya, and Mo'at, scatter out of the way. Mo'at casts him a look, a flash of worry, of indecision, before she races off towards the school.
Tsyeyk looks back to see Father knocking the gun away, gripping it hard in his forepaws, doing everything he can to prevent the barrel from being aimed at him. He dips and dodges around, trying to force the beast to release the gun even as it tries to push him back. Father snaps his jaws a few times, still trying to dislodge the weapon from the beast. It gets a good hit in, knocking Father into a nearby tree with a punch to his gut. Father drops to the ground, panting as wintery eyes study the beast. Father did something. The arm that was holding the gun won't move the way the parasite wants it too - if his screaming is any indication. It's stuck at angle, pointing off to one side and down.
Tsyeyk knocks his final arrow, unsure of what he can do, only that it should be something, and sees that Eytukan, pressed to his side, does the same.
Father climbs slowly to his feet, jaws spreading, tongue unfurling and thin black worms fall from his teeth.
Wires, his brain tells him.
Father then looks at Tsyeyk, at Eytukan, for a moment and Tsyeyk's breath catches. Father is about to make his move, so Tsyeyk and Eytukan must now as well.
"Fire when I do," Eytukan commands, and Tsyeyk nods. They both pull back on their bowstrings and fire. The arrows skid across the face of the beast, vanishing into the forest behind it. Before Tsyeyk can start to panic, as the parasite turns to look at them for just a moment, Eytukan is grabbing at Tsyeyk once more and dragging him away, back behind the nearest, thickest trees. Once more the wild spray of shots eventually hits at the tree, peeling away at the bark. The firing stops, and even with a racing heart, Tsyeyk dares to peak around the side to see the beast is looking away at an empty spot at its side.
Where Father had been a moment before.
A second later, on the lame side of the beast, Father peels away from the nearest tree he climbed, taking a great leap onto the beast. His weight is enough to make the beast stumble and stagger. It struggles to shake him all the while Father rips and tears at the back of the beast, intentionally digging at specific spots that burst into sparks and soon ignite into flames. A yellow light turns red and then white before Father pushes away from it with all six limbs and darts into the forest. The force of the push was enough for the beast to stumble forward, then fall. All the while screaming.
Then, it exploded.
Tsyeyk and Eytukan throw themselves back, trying to put some distance between themselves and the explosion as shards of the beast's skin and bones go flying in all directions. Tsyeyk covers his ears and screams, huddling close to Eytukan as the older male wraps around him. Then, Father is there, curling around him, licking at the tears streaming down his face.
Tsyeyk pulls from the Olo'eyktan and hugs Father close, sobbing. The adrenaline fading from his body. He's becoming aware of the pain of his body, his head, his ears. He can see and feel blood pouring from wounds from his hand, sliced up by the knife, his knees from the fall, and cuts and scrapes that burn against the open air. A mark across his left ribs, cut right along the bone, bleeds heavily. Father pays close attention to that one, studying it closely before curling his lips in a snarl and dipping his shoulder for Tsyeyk to climb onto his back.
He struggles, shaken, but with Eytukan's help, he manages to get up there before Father is racing towards the school once more. Once they get there, Tsyeyk slides off of Father's back, moving towards the doorway only to stop. Father stomps, angrily, around the building, looking out for anymore parasites that dare to come close once more. Tsyeyk can hear crying within, talking by women trying to sooth. But his eyes trail down to the young male slouched against the doorframe. His eyelids closed, cuts and scrapes weep along his body but none more so than the hole in his forehead. Tsyeyk turns his eyes away, pain gripping at his chest as he moves inside, following a small hallway to a wall of doors, some open, to reveal a room of huddled, sobbing children inside.
Tsyeyk finds Mo'at immediately, tending to Sylwanin. Her eyes are wide, breathing raspy and quick, as she stares up at the ceiling. Neytiri is sobbing at her side, holding onto one of her bloodied hands in a death grip that turns her knuckles white. The young female from earlier is also there, but huddled with a little male in her arms, both like all the others - sobbing hysterically. And tending to the gaggle of kids all gathered together are two females Tsyeyk doesn't recognize, and Tsu'tey. Tsu'tey, whose expression is pinched in fear, fights to keep his voice even and calm as he palms the wet cheeks of the children in front of him and pets down their hair, murmuring soft, soothing words.
A young female spots Tsyeyk, and to Tsyeyk's absolute horror, it's Uvay. She breaks away from one of the unfamiliar females, and races to Tsyeyk, calling out his name shrill with terror. He hugs her tightly, realizing too late that he was still bleeding and getting it all over her, but she didn't seem to care, burying her face in his chest, sobbing. Her little arms wrap tightly around him, and it hurts the wound on his ribs, making him hiss in pain, but he doesn't allow her to pull away. The other children look to him, sobbing louder and yelling to him things he can't hear, before Tsu'tey is on him, running his hands up and down Tsyeyk's body, looking for injury. He finds and clocks all of them, even the one on Tsyeyk's ribs, expression tightening in worry before finally meeting Tsyeyk's eyes.
"Are you okay, Tsyeyk?" Tsu'tey asks, voice horse. He reaches up to gently cup at Tsyeyk's cheek and the feral male leans into it, relieved that Tsu'tey was okay. Now that the adrenaline has completely worn off, he's fully aware of his pain. Of his exhaustion as his body was pushed way beyond his limits.
"Owie," he says but doesn't gesture, his eyelashes flutter closed for a moment before he forces them open. Tsu'tey already knows where and Tsyeyk's not interested in letting Uvay go.
Tsu'tey nods, bringing his forehead close so that they can press together. He's wrapping something around Tsyeyk's torso to try and stem the bleeding without causing Tsyeyk to panic. He lets out a shaky breath, a tear sliding down his cheek as he quickly wipes it away and whispers, "I... I don't think she's going to make it."
Tsyeyk doesn't have to ask, he looks over Tsu'tey shoulder to where Mo'at is trying to stop the bleeding from Sylwanin's stomach. Her movements are quick, precise, impersonal, yet her face is pinched in terror, in pain. There is a horror there, a pain that can't be described. And while Neytiri tries to help, her hands are shaking so bad all she can really do is pass things to her mother and squeeze tightly to her sister's hand.
"I know that you're angry, Mo'at," one of the strange females says, materializing at the Tsahik's side, "but please let me try. Please let me try to save her. While we still have time." There is an edge her voice. A panic. Her golden eyes are wide with fear. With pain.
"Sky People did this!" Neytiri hisses at the female. "They hurt Sylwanin, Grace!" She sobs again, shoulder bowing inward. Eytukan appears then at Tsyeyk, Tsu'tey and Uvay's side as other hunters pour into the room, heading right for the children - some of which cry out in relief at the sight of their parents.
"Please," the female, Grace, rasps. "Please let me try. It's not too late. Please." It's then that the female looks up, her eyes locking onto Tsyeyk and her face transforms from desperation across a myriad of expressions. To surprise, shock, befuddlement, realization, awe and then -
Tsyeyk's eyes roll up into his head and he feels himself drop.
Tsyeyk opens bleary eyes to the feeling of someone gently rubbing something into his side. Tsyeyk hisses, trying to move away but doesn't get far. He presses his nose into a hard knee that shifts away, then Tsu'tey scent wraps around him as Tsu'tey does. He keeps Tsyeyk from shifting anymore, peppering his face and hair in kisses and rubbing at his upper back. Mo'at's raspy voice gently hushes him as she applies something foul smelling to his ribs. He hisses at her and bats at her hand with his own, but Tsu'tey grabs hold of it and traps it between their chests.
"Let her work, Tsyeyk," he whispers, voice strained. Tsyeyk whines but is hushed again. They are in his nest, Tsyeyk knows, as he can smell it. His safe place. He wanted Father there too, but he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes. Everything hurt. Everything was throbbing. It's uncomfortable. He doesn't like it. But Tsu'tey is soothing to him. Petting his back and kissing his cheeks, forehead, hair. And just knowing that Tsu'tey was there, that he was safe, was enough for Tsyeyk to relax once more and slip into slumber once more.
He wakes again sometime later to nuzzling into Tsu'tey stomach. Tsu'tey's fingers are running through his hair as he asks quietly, "Was that Tatsuey? Is... Is... Sylwanin..?"
"Eytukan sent him to say that Grace is still... seeing to her. But he doesn't understand what the Sky People are trying to tell him." Mo'at sighs heavily. She lowers down behind Tsyeyk, pressing her hand gently onto his shoulder. "I should go to be with her. I need..."
"I will be here," Tsu'tey rasps. "I can see to the clan. Go, be with the Olo'eyktan. Go be with... Sylwanin," his voice cracks. The hand carding through Tsyeyk's hand stills, then curls, a thumb running lightly along the soft part of the younger male's ear.
Mo'at is quiet for a long moment, considering his words. Then, she says, "I am needed here."
"Not this night," Tsu'tey says firmly, his voice growing stronger as he goes. "You have seen to the children. You have spoken to the hunters. Alert them to come to me with any issues and go. Sylwanin, Neytiri and your mate need you. I will watch over things here." The carding through his hair continues. "Trust me to look after the clan. Go and see to your family."
Mo'at's thumb rubs small circles into Tsyeyk's shoulder. There was comfort there. There was worry there. Finally, Mo'at murmurs, "I'll make arrangements and head out. Thank you, Tsu'tey."
Tsyeyk wakes again to low voices. He feels Father pressed against him, instead of resting his head in the curve of Tsyeyk's side, he's lying on Tsyeyk's hip and legs. Father was nice and warm, even as Tsyeyk's upper body was cold. He wanted to snuggle closer, but his side burned whenever he moved and throbbed whenever he didn't. He opens his eyes with a herculean effort to see Tsu'tey standing in the entranceway. His tail is twisting anxiously back and forth as he softly speaks to another low voice waiting outside of Tsyeyk's space, respectfully.
They talk for a few more minutes. Tsyeyk tentatively moves from his side to his back, body throbbing in pain but he swallows the whine. Father shifts a bit, tentatively resting his head on Tsyeyk's chest, but doesn't put much weight on him. Tsyeyk wraps his arms around Father's head, staring into his wintery eyes as they stare back at him. His golden eyes water, he sniffles and presses his face into his father's muzzle. He listens to Tsu'tey talk quietly to the male at the entranceway for a few more minutes before turning and coming back into their nest. He makes a soft noise, moving to sit by Tsyeyk's side, carding his fingers through Tsyeyk's messy hair.
"Are you in pain, Tsyeyk?"
Tsyeyk nods but is resolute not to cry. He does whimper a little, though because he's imperfect. He looks over at Tsu'tey and asks, "Sylly?"
Tsu'tey's gentle, but tired expression tightens. "She's not well right now, Tsyeyk. Grace is... is trying, but..." A pain flickers over his face. His eyes dampen and he swallows thickly. "But..." he continues, clearing his throat. "I have to believe that the best will come. Either she will come out of it and be better or... or... she won't be in pain anymore." He squeezes his eyes shut, throat working. Father lifts his head as Tsyeyk struggles to sit up, a sharp burning pain in his left side gives him only a moment of pause before he pulls his mate to him, hugging him tightly.
Tsu'tey breaks down, crying. Despite the pain of his body, Tsyeyk pulls Tsu'tey to him. The taller male tentatively wrapped his arms around Tsyeyk's torso, being careful not to hurt his ribs as his face drops into the junction between the younger male's neck and shoulder. It's strange to be on this side of their relationship. Tsu'tey is always the one to love and comfort Tsyeyk whenever he was hurt or upset. Tsyeyk doesn't mind offering the comfort instead, he just... wishes he didn't have to. He wishes that Tsu'tey wasn't upset. He wishes that the life outside of their nest wasn't scary and complicated. Even here, now, Tsyeyk can feel the pain of his family, of the Omatikaya, like a radiating energy outside of their space. Tsu'tey isn't the only one in pain right now, yet he's the only one that Tsyeyk can focus on at the moment.
So, he holds Tsu'tey close and purrs, one hand running up and down his mate's back, while the other pets down his braids. He's not sure if he was helping or not, but Tsu'tey's quiet crying and shuttering breaths fade more and more as time goes by. Tsyeyk doesn't mind. He just holds his beloved, purring and petting and waiting. Tsu'tey pulls back enough to lean his forehead against Tsyeyk's.
"Tsu'tey?" Tsyeyk calls out softly, looking at long wet lashes fluttering against cheek bones. Tsu'tey takes a deep breath, hands sliding down Tsyeyk's arms to take his hands with his own, threading them together. Tsu'tey's four fingers slot perfectly between Tsyeyk's five.
A few shaky breaths, then Tsu'tey murmurs, "Teyxi is dead. He has gone to the Great Mother. Sylwanin is weak and... and fading. And I thought that you were going to... you killed them and ran off and I couldn't... I had to... but you could have..." He squeezes his eyes shut, tears sliding down his cheeks as he tries to compose himself. "I didn't know what to do, Tsyeyk. I've never..."
"Tsu'tey... was... scared?" Tsyeyk asks, shifting a bit. His body hurts, the wounds across it hurt, but the one on his ribs hurts the most.
"Yes," Tsu'tey whispers, ashamed. "I froze, but you didn't."
Tsyeyk frowns at that. He doesn't fully know what Tsu'tey did exactly, but it felt pretty clear what the ultimate outcome was. "Tsyeyk attack, Tsu'tey defend."
Tsu'tey finally opens his eyes or at least raises them now so that he's looking at Tsyeyk. He pulls back a bit to study the other male, monitoring his face closely. "You think so?"
Tsyeyk nods. "Tsyeyk go for parasites. Tsu'tey defend Omatikaya." He untangles one of their hands so that he can reach up and lightly brush away his mate's tear sliding slowly down his cheek. "Not wrong. We're okay, Tsu'tey. Tsyeyk and Tsu'tey. We are okay." His voice is soft as he stares into the vulnerable eyes of his mate and watches as something inside of him broke in relief.
"We are okay," he kept repeating, leaning back into Tsyeyk and holding him like a lifeline. "We are okay."
It was late the evening after the incident that Tsyeyk and Tsu'tey finally fully emerged from their nest. Tsyeyk is still in a lot of pain, so while he sits by the firepit with Father wrapped around him, Tsu'tey goes to get their dinner while one of Mo'at's aids sees to Tsyeyk's wounds. She dips her chin low in respect to Father when he met her gaze before seeing to Tsyeyk's side. The wound there hurts more than all of the others. It feels like whatever it was that hit him cracked a rib, but he's not sure. He can breathe find so his lung is okay, but the pull hurts his ribs. He has other wounds similar to the one on his ribs; one on his thigh, another on his arm. But those don't hurt as much and they're shallower than the first one. And aside from his ribs, the only other place that hurts a lot more than the rest is his hand.
He's covered in some foul-smelling goop and a lot of leaves that he's not allowed to pick at. He's been taking some of it from the aid's bowl and putting it on the wounds on Father, some cuts having been deep enough to pierce his incredible hide. Father seems to like the smell as much as Tsyeyk does and snarls at him with quivering facefans that makes the aid hesitate, but Tsyeyk doesn't stop. He keeps putting the goop onto all the wounds he finds, pausing only once to bop Father on the nose with a stern, "Don't yell at Tsyeyk, Father," before continuing on.
Once Tsu'tey returns to his side and the aid moves away to go and eat her own meal, the clan sits in an almost somber silence. No one really talking as a heavy cloud just hangs over all of them. Even having gone almost two full days without eating, Tsyeyk picks lightly at his food. Father, though, eats the offerings the Omatikaya leave for him, but even he seems to not fully have his heart in it. It all feels mechanical right now.
"Tsu'tey," one of the gatherers ask, drawing the eyes of the clan between him and the heir. Once Tsu'tey meets his gaze, he asks, "Have you heard from Olo'eyktan? From Tsahik?"
"Yeah," a cook asks, stirring the stew. "How is... how is Sylwanin?"
A young female with her head tilted down, flinches and clutches her younger sibling in her arms. Tsu'tey lets out a sigh, staring down into his bowl, debating what to say. He then looks over at Tsyeyk, who tilts his head curiously, not sure what the older male wants from him.
Tsyeyk offers a smile and Tsu'tey's shoulders relax a bit. He turns to address the clan, placing his barely touched bowl at his side and moving up onto his feet so that he may look around the quiet space. "What happened yesterday..." He swallows, throat working before continuing, voice strong, "We have lost Teyxi." He turns then, looking out one of the entrances of Hometree to the camp set up out there. The Tayri are here but how much do they know? Tsyeyk's not sure, and he doesn't ask.
There is a dry sob that pulls Tsyeyk's eyes to a female on the other side of the fire. She holds something to her chest as tears slide down her cheeks. Another female wraps her arm over her shoulders and presses the side of her head to the other.
"We have lost a piece of ourselves that cannot be replaced," Tsu'tey murmurs, eyes flickering to the crying female, then away again, shoulders stiffening. "Sylwanin is with Grace. She is trying to use their magics to save her life, but the last I heard from Maru, it is not looking well."
"Sylwanin will join the Great Mother too?" A nearby child asks, curling close to his father.
Tsu'tey lips press into a tight line as he looks down at the young male and quietly admits, "I do not know."
"Tsyeyk!" The male perks, looking back at the sobbing female as she struggles to her feet. "Is he with her? Is my sweet Teyxi with the Great Mother?"
All eyes turn to him. Tsyeyk frowns, unsure. He looks up at the atokirina floating around, dipping and bobbing and spinning. His eyes track their movements for a long time before asking, "Mother? Is Teyxi with Mother?" They pulse slightly, light dancing across them and he knows. He tilts his head down to look at the woman, tears streaming down her cheeks as he nods. "Yes." An atokirina flutters over to the female, landing on her clutched hands for a moment, a few bounces then a twirl before drifting up and away once more on an invisible wind.
She crumbles, crying harder and leaning into the female at her side. Despite the pain in her tears, there is a touch of relief. Not enough to say that she was happy, but like she was worried about something that has been alleviated.
"What is wrong?" Tsu'tey asks, frowning. He also seems to be picking up on the weird feeling that Tsyeyk was. "Of course, Teyxi would be with the Great Mother. Why would you question that?"
"He died with the Sky People evil in him," a hunter whispers, as if saying the words too loud would incur the wrath of the Great Mother. Or worse, draw the Sky People to them in another attack.
Tsu'tey sucks in a long, slow breath, running a hand over his face as he tries to formulate the words. He licks his lips, staring into the fire for a moment before turning his attention back to the clan. "I want everyone to listen to me. The Sky People do not change us. What happened..." he swallows again before pushing on, "it does not change us. At least not in a bad way. They have shown us that they are no allies of ours. Those like Grace are nor the norm. We must wait and hear what Olo'eyktan wishes to command on the matter, but the Sky People can't take our spirit, our unity, or devotion. Not from ourselves, from each other, from the Great Mother. We are the Omatikaya!"
The clan yips, cheers. They move to their feet or up onto their knees, focusing intently on their clan heir.
"We are united. We are one. We will face this trial as we have for every one before us, united!" His bright golden eyes scan the room, tail lashing behind him. "They have hurt us this day but made us stronger for tomorrow. We will honor our fallen, our injured. We will face it all together. We will mourn, we will adapt, we will overcome! We will steady our hearts, strengthen our bodies and minds." His ears flick, eyes meeting the with all those around him. When he continues, his voice is gentler. "We are hurt now. We are in pain. A brother was taken from us. A sister... a sister might be too. But we will face the hardships and the trials together, as we have since the beginning of our history. Take your time to heal. Take care of your neighbors, your clanmates, your families, yourselves."
More yips. They stare starry-eyed at the heir. Even Tsyeyk is hanging off of every word Tsu'tey is saying.
"The Olo'eyktan and Tsahik are with Sylwanin and Neytiri right now. They are doing whatever it is that they can to ensure Sylwanin's survival. I know that we all have mixed feelings. We are upset and hurting, but we must offer them the understanding that they are trying to save their daughter in whatever way they can. But they will return to us soon." There are nods of understanding, murmurs amongst the crowd as they lower back down once more. He's still their sole focus. Some of the unease and fear seems to ebb from them. They look to him to guide them, Tsyeyk knows. Tsu'tey is their heir. He's very important to the clan, and even though no one really knows what's going on or what will happen, they have to trust that someone is paying attention on their behalf.
Someone has to keep everything together. And even though Tsu'tey had managed to keep his voice as controlled as he has been, Tsyeyk can see the tension in the other male's body. He's holding himself together so well, and yet he's still a bit uneasy. Still afraid to have done the wrong thing at such an important time.
"I do not know if Sylwanin will return to us, or the Great Mother, but keep her in your thoughts, your prayers," Tsu'tey sucks in a pained breath. "Olo'eyktan and Tsahik will be back with us as soon as they can. Come to me for any issues or questions that you might have. Business as usual, and until Olo'eyktan says otherwise, speak not of this incident with the Tayri." Bobbing heads as the clan settles down once more.
As everyone settles back in, Tsu'tey sits with his knee resting against Tsyeyk's. He grabs at his bowl and lets out a long sigh, his shoulders drooping. There is a low din from those around the room, all digesting and discussing what was said. All the while, Tsu'tey turns to Tsyeyk, worn and tired and whispers softly, "I don't know what comes next, ma Tsyeyk. Do you?"
Tsyeyk shakes his head. "No," he admits.
Tsu'tey sighs, reaching out to take Tsyeyk's hand and gives it a squeeze. Tsyeyk's bowl is resting on his knee, balanced there by his wrapped up left hand. "How did it come to be like this?" Tsu'tey asks softly.
"Don't know," Tsyeyk tells him.
"Do you think Sylwanin will be alright?"
Tsyeyk considers, trying hard to pin down the words in his mouth. He mumbles, trying to translate his words so that Tsu'tey can understand them. He finally manages to say, "I... hope so."
Tsu'tey looks at him then, golden eyes large and vulnerable. His jaw works, as if also struggling to find the words. He studies Tsyeyk's face, as if the words he was looking for were there instead of in his own head. But Tsu'tey is always patient with him, always waiting for him to be able to find the right words, so he'll wait too. He will give the older male the chance to say his piece. Father watches them solemnly with white-blue eyes darkened by the shadows of the night, something deeply somber about him.
Finally, quieter than before, Tsu'tey asks, "Do you think this changes things? I mean, more than the obvious."
Tsyeyk stares at him, wondering what it was that Tsu'tey was truly trying to ask him. After a moment of waiting for elaboration that doesn't come, Tsyeyk simply settles with, "Yes."
Tsu'tey sighs again, pain and anxiety flickering over his face as he nods, shoulders drooping resolutely. "What do you think it'll change?"
"Everything."
Once dinner is finished and Tsu'tey has ensured that everything is continuing as it should, patrols are run, children are seen to, and everyone is accounted for, he and Tsyeyk retire to their nest once more. As they curl around one another with Father sleeping closest to the entrance of the nest, Tsyeyk can hear beyond Hometree that the forest is eerily quiet that night.