Stalker and Striker

[Rhonya]

“She is like you, Stalker. Like us.”

“And yet so different..”

A hand reached to gently stroke Tahara’s hair away from her face. A hand with more claws than nails. A hand that had ended so many lives already, that had shed so much blood, but still it had times of gentleness as well.
Kyrazha looked down on the females face for a moment longer before getting up, stretching out. She took off her shoulder armor, releasing the knots and clasps and let it fall on the ground before she did a few quick stretches and walked outside of the cave Tahara had made her home.

“It was good of you to choose her for our pack.”

Kyrazha couldn’t supress a small, amused snort as she looked up at the night sky, stars littering the black carpet above her.
“Of course you would say that, Striker. Though, why her? Why her in particular? You’ve never spoken out about anyone else yet,” Kyrazha softly mumbled.

“She is strong. A strong soul. Maybe you do not see it, Stalker, but I do. Try see her through my eyes, next time you train with her. Maybe you will see as well, and understand.”

The voice gently faded away from her mind and Kyrazha understood the talk was over. Yet the presence was still comfortably close. Always close.
She looked back at the cave a moment. Her sister. A bloodsister, one she never had before. One that knew the truth, but still had so much from her own mind hidden to herself and to others. So troubled.
It actually made Kyrazha angry, to think about what they’d done to her sister in the past. She usually never took up the subject with Tahara, or if she mentioned it, it was casual and not in depth, more a passing comment.
But to see her only sister struggle so much with her own mind, it made her mad. Mad she couldn’t really help either, besides just being there for her and helping her through the pain, the moment the ward cracked a bit again.
It didn’t make it any easier that Kyrazha had to split her time between several things now. Trakmar was still a big worry, a pair of heavy hands on her shoulders that kept weighing her down. Her sister. The clan as a whole, a very big part of her responsibility, as she was partly responsible for their safety.
The Horde, slowly crumbling in on itself. It would become a danger eventually, she knew it was going to happen. The clan was approaching a crossroads, once again, ever so slowly.

The presence came closer again.
“Sniff the air, Stalker. Your worries are drowning you. Come.”

And suddenly, there was only one thing on her mind, as Kyrazha turned her head again to look outside. The world was full of muted colors, scents. Things to hunt, things to eat. Food for the pack. Food her sister so needed right now. There was only one urge left in her now, one thing to do, all the other worries pressed to the back of her mind as she started to run, not even taking her weapons from the cave. They were not needed. She â€"was- the weapon.

“Let’s go hunt, Shelar.”

[Rhonya]

The sounds of the jungle. So calming, so familiar. Yet, this jungle sounded different than where I grew up. It was hard to place my finger on it what exactly differed, but it did. Maybe the animals, maybe the lack of Trolls, or maybe a combination of both of that.
Still, it felt like coming home again, riding back into the jungle. Uurekh was less happy with the heat but he handled it well. The sun was barely up, yet noise erupted all around me.
A jungle never sleeps.

We made it back to camp without much fuss. I let Uurekh do his own thing while I made my way to where Timur was with my new charge.
A tiger cub. When I heard the cry coming from beneath the dead ones, I had known it was a tiger. I had known I had to get it out before we accidentally burned it with the others. Something about it sparked a memory from long ago.
Qa’ajn, pressing a small cub in my arms, telling me he was my responsibility now. Those big, orange eyes looking at me. He barely fit in my arms, but my ‘father’ trusted me with him either way. It was the start of a long, deep bond that I still felt on this day, even though Lian had been gone for quite a while now.
It made me sad to think about him, even now still. And I don’t think that would ever fade. It didn’t need to, I was at peace with it as well.

As I reached the place where Timur hid himself with the small cub, a little bush outcrop, I was met with a rather unique sight.
The cub was awake, curled up against Timurs side, blinking weakly in the ray of sunlight that fell right on his head. Timur was asleep, I could almost feel the exhaustion coming from him. He’d probably stayed up all night to watch the cat.
Another memory. Lian, lying curled up, his eyes focused on something furry in front of him. A small wolf pup between his paws, runt of the litter. The tiger was old, tired, his muzzle turning white, but something about the puppy had awoken a new youth in him and he cared for Timur as if he was his own offspring. Like a somewhat grumpy grandpa, showing him the ropes and putting up with Timurs unending ear tugging and enthusiasm.
It was odd how some things always seemed to come back, a never ending circle.

I slung my supply bag over my shoulder and picked up the small cub with my one functional hand, very gently so not to wake Timur. Finding a secluded spot, I placed the cub on my lap and the bag beside me. It was a bit of a challenge with only one hand and a suddenly very awake tiger trying to climb off my lap to explore, but eventually I managed. I had a very rough, thick piece of cloth rolled into a cone, filled with wolf milk.
I had been very lucky going to Warsong Hold during the night. They had two female wolves nursing litters, one of which a few pups had died at birth, so she had too much milk and was friendly enough to the handler to let him take some for me. It wouldn’t keep well long in this heat here and I wasn’t even sure if he still needed the milk, but after seeing his rather malnourished state I just wanted to give him a good chance. Mothersmilk was full of good things, more so than I could give him right now with anything else.

It was messy business to get the little one to understand he had to suck on the end of the cone for the milk to come through the cloth. Once he figured it out though, we were both covered in the stuff, but he was drinking very, very greedily.
I watched the small cat drink his fill in silence. My stomach still had this sort of odd lump of happiness inside of it. Even with the issues going on right now with my bloodsister, Tagrok, Trakmar and the rest of the clan… I felt happy. Happier than I’d been in a long time. That would change soon, I knew. One way or the other. Maybe I would tell Tahara soon, just to give her another reason to fight on and not give up.
But for now I simply enjoyed the feeling, looking forward to the good things ahead while trying not to linger too much on the bad ones that were most certainly sneaking up on me.

When the cub had drank enough, I brought him to the water, taking a bath together with him. I also washed out the cloth and buried the rest of the milk in the skin into a shady spot in the sand, maybe that would at least help keep it cool for today and a later feeding.

He already looked better, I concluded, looking down at the small wet cub sitting on the edge of the sand, peering somewhat apprehensively at a small frog that was leaping by.
“I guess ya’ll just need a name now, don’t ya, buddy.. Let’s see. Vessalia was ‘er name, no? So caring, but so tragic. Maybe ‘Ar’kuna be rig’t and it’d be nice ta continue ‘er legacy,” I spoke to him. Not that he paid much attention to me with that frog distracting him.
“Wat do ya t’ink about Vesa, ‘mm? Nice and s’ort. Easy ta remember. Vesa.”
The cub let out a soft meow now, trying to give the frog a whack with his paw, which looked way too big for him still. He missed.
I laughed, shaking my head a little. “Vesa fits ya fine.”
At that moment Timur chose to wake up and he came running towards us, tripping in the sand in his haste and rolling over a few times before he ended up in the water. He quickly stood up, pretending nothing had happened, snorting out some water. Which only made me laugh even harder. He looked very insulted.

“Vesa will be a nice addition to the pack. We’ll teach him well, Stalker.”

“My pack of misfits, ‘mm? Guess ya be rig’t.”
I nodded, to no one.