Chapter Text
When Colt was born, Leonard's friend and midwife Vikis thought that he would not survive the night. He was a tiny, tiny infant, smaller than other Beastman Females were. And while all Beastman babies were quiet and didn't move much, he had been as silent and still as death itself.
Weak, sickly, and likely to die.
Vikis had seen such babies before and told the Scotsman as such, but Leonard ignored him. He took the small child and coddled him, just as he had his eldest almost a year before.
"He'll live, you'll see," he said. "He's a fighter, this one. Like a little horse." Leonard caressed the head of the wee little thing. He was terribly tired, but couldn't bear to sleep when the last thing his baby had heard was Vikis saying he'd die before morning. So, as he fought to keep his eyes open, he sang a song that he wrestled up from memories of his own childhood:
"As I went a-walking all alane
I heard twa corbies makin' mane;
The tane unto the tither did say-o
'Where sall we gang an' dine the day-o?'
'Where sall we gang an' dine the day...'"
When he woke up the next morning, Leonard declared the child's name was Colt.
The wee lad had lived through the night after all. That was the largest hurdle he had needed to overcome, and knowing that Leonard could breathe a little easier. Having said that, though, Colt still had yet to actually move. Leonard could see the tiny breaths that his son took in, but aside from that, he made no movement. It worried him terribly. On top of all that, he had yet to show Colt to Nevatan, his husband, who had been out in the Jungle taking his turn at hunting during the birth.
Nevatan was not cruel by any means. He was much like Leonard in fact, based on what the human could tell. The only issue seemed to be that his English was not especially good, and even less so when Leonard spoke in his native Scots, which he preferred. The other humans in the Tribe could piece together what he meant, even if they didn't always understand his dialect. Nevatan and the other Beastmen were unsurprisingly unable to do so, for the most part. That wasn't a huge issue either, though. The two were so similar in personality that they got along just fine without having to communicate in one language or t'other, thank you very much.
The problem was that Leonard knew if anyone had tried to give him a sickly baby that might die soon, God forbid, he wouldn't take on the babe at all. If you had asked him before he came to this place, he probably would've told you to dump the thing and let it die in peace. But this, this was different. He had given birth to the poor lamb, and loved him terribly.
The key phrase there was he had given birth.
He would've abandoned Colt if he hadn't, he was sure of it, and Nevatan really was just like him. Leonard was terribly scared that Nevatan would forget that he made this child too. Abandon him. Perhaps he would take his other son and abandon them both.
Such a thing was not unheard of. It was just like--
And for a moment, he was back on that damned ship, with the salty air and foul stench of sickness. All that he could hear was the crash of waves and a shaking voice, whispering a song to him through the turmoil and fear.
. . . There is nothing can console me . . .
The moment passed. He forced himself forward from where he had frozen in the doorway, to the main building where Nevatan was no doubt eating.
Indeed, Nevatan was in the kitchen, eating with little Orion perched on his lap. Orion was their first-born. He was a curious and active young thing, entirely different from Colt. He had not stayed still since he'd left Leonard's body, as though he was resentful that he'd had to keep still for the time that he was in it.
Nevatan looked up from his plate when the pair entered. He had a habit of looking over a person carefully when they approached. Looking for hostile body language, perhaps. Leonard did it too, though he put in the effort to be a little more subtle about it. In Leonard's case, Nevatan would always grin in an impish way, or pat his head. Leonard hated when he did the later. It reminded him of the nearly two foot difference in height between them.
This time, however, Nevatan's impassive expression did not change in the slightest. He regarded the baby in Leonard's arms with unreadable eyes and without saying a word outstretched his hand towards the two. Biting his lip, Leonard surrendered the boy to his daak. Colt was hardly bigger than Nevatan's hand, and still didn't move a muscle. The tensest moments in Leonard's life (or, his new one at least, damn that ship--) passed at a snail's pace. Nobody moved. Even Orion, forgotten by the two adults, stayed quiet and relatively in place on Nevatan's lap.
Then, as though he knew by some instinct that he was being tested, Colt squirmed. Not very much, mind, and certainly not as much as babies ought to, but it was enough. Nevatan's face broke into his usual devilish grin and he handed Colt back to Leonard's waiting arms. He spoke in the Beastman's language something that Leonard couldn't understand. Nobody was around to translate, so in English, Nevatan repeated in a halting but confident manner: "Colt is good." Leonard grinned an equally mischievous grin, green eyes curving as he smiled. Clearly, he'd worried for nothing. Perhaps he had misjudged his own character, too. All he could think about now was how he'd kill anything that dared stand in little Colt's way, and if that had meant Nevatan--
Well, it hadn't. All doubt was gone from him like dew that evaporated in the presence of his son.
"Our good, stubborn little horse."
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As Leonard predicted, Colt did live on. His eyes, to the surprise of everyone, had opened in the predicted time frame as well. They were brilliant green at that, matching his da's exactly. Nevatan, who had grown incredibly close to the little boy, liked to tease that he could not tell the difference between the two.
Poor Colt had a terribly weak constitution, however, and though he was mere days away from being three years old, he could still only toddle a few short steps before he could go no farther upright and had to crawl. This might have been worrisome to his da and daak, but they had their hands full with the restless four-year-old Orion. In addition, they had their two newest children to care for. Reed was a centipede like Nevatan, and Aspen was a Female, both healthy but infants still required massive amounts of time. Though they tried their best to give Colt his share of their attention, they simply couldn't devote a boundless amount of time to him, especially since he was the least likely of their brood to hurt himself accidentally.
That wasn't to say they didn't make some small pockets of time for him, though. Leonard put him to bed at night, with songs he knew from when his ma had coaxed him to sleep as a wee lad. Nevatan woke him in the morning every day with a hiss or a head rub, depending on his form, and they would play. If Colt was not feeling up to playing that day, he told stories instead, of the Caves beyond the Jungle where he was born. But aside from those times, Colt was relegated to playing by all by himself in the clearing while an adult or one of the older children kept an eye on him.
That was where Colt found himself one summer afternoon, sitting on a blanket while another Tribe human named Wilbert worked in the garden. He had a few toys strewn around him but none seemed to strike his fancy that day. The sun was unforgiving as it beat down, a stark contrast to the wet season that had just passed. The dry heat sapped energy from the toddler like a sponge and he was nearly asleep after ten solid minutes of doing nothing.
Just then, a strange croak rose up from a nearby bush. It was weak, not quite loud enough to be threatening to anything larger than a mouse, but enough to draw the attention of Colt who woke from his stupor and turned on his knees to face the bush. He'd never heard anything like that before and was instantly curious. Another squawk was enough to draw him shakily to his feet, and before the third squawk rang out he had wobbled his way over to the large shrub.
He fell back down to his hands and knees to peer into the shade below the foliage, and to his surprise a large black bird was laying there. It was at least half the size of Colt and its wings were folded at its sides. The bird's feathers were covered with a layer of dirt, as though it had landed in a not-so-glorious fashion, then decided it wasn't worth the effort to take off again. Its eyes were closed, only opening for the briefest of moments when the young boy appeared and blocked the minimal sunlight that was filtering through the foliage.
Colt was utterly enraptured. He knew what birds were, of course. They were great winged things that flew over the clearing or roosted in the trees at the edge of the clearing where the children were not supposed to go. He knew that some of the Beastmen that came to the clearing were also birds, but he had never seen one so darkly colored as this. It was the color of night! Incredible!
It croaked one last time, and the sound made Colt think that it was very pitiful indeed. To him, it sounded like the noises he had a cough, which made his throat feel very painful. He supposed, in the way that toddlers do all things, that the bird must have a cough then, and as it did not have Da to put it to bed it put itself to bed under the bush.
Colt's large eyes widened even more, becoming wet with tears. The poor thing! It was hurting and had no-one to help it!
Colt simply could not bear that thought; it was far too sad. And so he struggled up once more, intent on doing something to help the bird. But what? He thought hard. When he was sick with a cough, which was often considering the state of his health, Da would always put him to bed. Well, the bird had put himself to bed so that was already done. What else?
Ah! Of course! Da would always make him drink a cup of water before telling him to sleep.
Water. He knew where water came from; The pump!
There was a large pump in the middle of the yard, where one of the Templefolk had dug a well when the main house was first built. It was reasonably low to the ground, and the water that came from it was cool and clear, fed by a deep reservoir that lay under the clearing. Colt, of course, knew none of that, but he knew that water would come from the pump and that was enough for him to decide that was where he needed to go.
All he had to do was go get some into the bucket that was always under the pump. It was not too far off, he could do it easily.
Or so he thought. Poor Colt had only made it back to the blanket he'd started from before he fell down hard on his knees and face. But he didn't react, besides a quiet yelp of pain and shock, because behind him there was a bird that had a cough, who had to put itself to bed in a bush instead of a bed with soft pillows and blankets because it did not have Da to help it. So he didn't cry. He simply got himself to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way to the pump.
Once there, he could just barely reach the rusty red handle if he stood on his toes, and it took all of his weight hanging from the lever to get the darn thing to move at all. He swung helplessly from it as the water slowly flowed from the pump into the wooden pail under the spout, then dropped onto his bottom when he let go of it. It was an awkward process, but it got water in the bucket at least.
The last hurdle was actually getting the bucket back to the bird to let it drink. Such a task would require Colt to stand up. Luckily, he was able to use the bucket as crutch to support himself. He proceeded to use the heavy bucket as a makeshift walker to hobble himself back over to the bird in the bush. Granted, most of the water had left the bucket by the time he managed to get it over across the clearing, but there was still enough for the bird to gulp down gratefully when Colt tipped the pail over partially.
Once the bird had drunken its fill, Colt dropped the bucket and crouched back down next to it, reaching a tentative hand out to stroke the pretty feathers.
Normally, this would have been a terrible idea. Wild animals are not to be touched, especially not injured ones like this bird was. But this bird was, in fact, a raven. Ravens are terribly smart creatures at the worst of times, and this one even more so. It had come from the Bonewastes, no less, so it was little wonder the animal was intelligent. That place existed in a dimension that was adjacent to the Beastmen's, as many were, and the fabric that separated the two in space and time was torn not far from the clearing. These tears were particularly numerous in this area, which was why the Templefolk had settled there in the first place.
The raven herself was in quite the sorry state, at that particular moment. She'd been heading back to her home and Mistress when she was unfortunate enough to fall into the claws of a noble eagle. Such an attack was not uncommon, nor would it have been entirely unjust considering the information she was to carry back, but had left her alive with a gash in her side. The most she could manage in her exhausted state was to find some cover to crash in. She fully expected some big animal to discover and eat her while she was weary and unwilling to fight again.
She hadn't anticipated a tiny little thing to stumble across her like this; a thing she could've very well eaten instead if she had felt so inclined.
She was clever enough to realize that whatever it was, it was the same thing that the Mistress was, just smaller. She'd also previously laid a nest with her mate. Her two chicks were near to leaving the nest now, but she knew a hatchling when she saw one, even if it was a different species from her. This one must've just hatched, as well. The poor thing had no strength in it, and she'd been all set to ignore it.
Then it brought her a drink, though, and her heart throbbed. It must be whatever Mistress was, it acted just as Mistress would've, taking care of her. Or, well, it was trying to at least.
All of that considered, when Colt reached out to pet the bird, he was quite safe, if not a little reckless.
The two new friends stayed there for a longer time than was anticipated by either party. So long, in fact, that Colt had quite forgotten he was supposed to be on the blanket instead of in the bush.
"There you are!"
Wilbert reached down and scooped up Colt, who squeaked in protest but soon realized that he was absolutely exhausted and nestled into Wilbert's arms. Wilbert, a large blond man, looked the small child in his arms over and seeing his scraped knees and face breathed a quiet sigh.
"Well, at least your parents will be happy."
"'s sick." Colt murmured sleepily. Wilbert hummed, wordlessly coaxing the boy to repeat himself. "The bird's sick."
"Sick, you say?" Wilbert looked down at the raven, who was fixing him with a suspicious gaze. She had never seen another adult creature besides Mistress, and wasn't sure she trusted it with the hatchling. They didn't look the same, after all. The plumage was different. It was not the chick's parent. "Yes, poor thing does look hurt, don't it?"
He picked up the bucket with the hand that wasn't carrying Colt and refilled it, setting it down by the raven, then went to the kitchen window and asked for some scraps of bread. Taking advantage of the time the raven was eating, Wilbert quickly looked over the injury. It was a long gash, but thankfully shallow. The bleeding had stopped already. Satisfied, Wilbert finally brought Colt back into the house for supper.
Predictably, Leonard took his battered child into his arms in good humor after supper after Wilbert filled him in on the state he'd found Colt in. "Had an adventure, did you, lad?'
Colt shifted around a bit and yawned, but smiled contentedly. "A bird wa' sick."
"Aye, so I've heard. D'you know what kind of bird it was?" When Colt shook his head, he continued, "A raven! Do you know what your Gran called ravens?" Another head shake. "Corbies, o' course! You nursed a corbie, did you know that?" Colt laughed along with his da, not quite understanding but happy nonetheless.
"You know, the first song I ever sang to you was about corbies." Leonard tucked his son into bed as he spoke, before sitting himself down at the foot of the small bed. "Wanna hear it again?"
Of course Colt nodded, though he was nearly asleep. He loved to hear Da sing.
"Alright then." Leonard cleared his throat and began, "As I went a-walking all alane, I heard twa corbies makin' mane..."
The next morning, Nevatan listened solemnly to Colt tell him about "th' sick corbie", and dutifully took his son out to the bush to see if the bird was still there. It was not, apparently having flown away some time in the night. Colt looked so disappointed that Nevatan crouched down next to him and said in his native language:
"Do not be sad, little Colt. Colt is so sweet and kind to help the raven, the raven will surely not forget. The raven will be back, Colt will see."
Those words worked their magic, and though he was still moping, Colt nodded obediently. He was then taken by Orion to play, and Nevatan and Leonard thought that would be the end of it.
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It was not, in fact, the end of anything.
Nevatan's words had been spot on; the raven did remember that helpful little hatchling who may or may not have been kidnapped. Perhaps it was because she was a mother, or perhaps she it was that her third chick had died a mere three days after it was born, but in either case it didn't sit well with her that she had to leave the poor thing be when it might be in danger.
The journey back to the Bonewastes and her group of fellows, fittingly called an unkindness, was blessedly uneventful. The raven's wound was sore, of course, but the bleeding had stopped quickly and with the extra meal she was able to regain her energy and fly back quickly enough. As anticipated, the Mistress saw her state and quickly set about making some drink to heal it completely. The raven didn't know what the drink was, as it tasted nothing like water, nor blood, but it healed her unkindness's wounds and ills nonetheless. As was the Mistress's manner, she grumbled all the while, complaining in her odd tongue that the raven could only make sense of occasionally, and looking sour all the while.
Even with the Mistress's help, however, it was almost a month before the raven could leave once again to try and find the hatchling. Her own children, two fine male ravens with stout bodies and newly grown feathers, greeted her and fussed over her wound, behavior that she put a stop to almost immediately. Her mate also fussed, but she let him do so, as he was growing older and that was the way of older ravens. Fussing was in their very bones.
The unkindness needed food and it was her turn to scavenge for food. It was easier said than done, especially in the barren landscape they roosted in. The Mistress's large nest was the only thing that broke apart the horizon for miles, save for a few dead trees. The young hatchlings couldn't be trusted to find food without losing their way so the adults took it in turns to find it and bring it back to the roost. The raven did her part without complaining, to be sure, but her thoughts were with that weak little chick with fiery plumage all the while.
Meanwhile, Colt was passing the month busily. Finding the raven, who he had dubbed Corbie, was the stroke of luck it seemed he had needed. It had convinced him that walking had its perks and with Orion's enthusiastic guidance he soon mastered the art, though long distances were still unmanageable for the time being. He'd also taken to spiriting trinkets off to the bush. When asked why, he would respond, "for Corbie."
At last, the time had come when Corbie could fly to the jungle again, where the chick was housed.
It was another stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, that Colt was sitting on a blanket in the clearing again when she came back. This time, she skipped the landing in the bush and touched down directly next to the now three-year-old child, nearly startling the poor boy out of his pale skin.
For a second, it seemed the creature didn't recognize her. Then, with all the volume of fifty hungry ravens, he yelled, "Corbie! Corbie came back!"
Colt clapped his little hands together and bounced on his knees, giggling and squealing with delight. Corbie also flapped her wings and squawked, returning the sentiment. She was so glad he hadn't been hurt, and he was so glad she was feeling better, happiness nearly radiated off of the pair.
Leonard rushed out of the house when Colt shouted, and all but fell over when he saw the bird, far bigger than a normal raven. He had half a mind to snatch Colt up and away from the thing but when he saw how happy the two were, decided to sit down next to them instead.
Corbie, upon seeing the other adult Mistress, was not quite sure how to react. Then, when she saw the bright red plumage on its head, crooned happily. This must be the mother of the chick. She had killed the other Mistress-Thing, or else had managed to get her chick back safely, and Corbie croaked a congratulations to the victorious parent. Obviously, the creature didn't understand, but it at the very least held off hostilities for the moment.
With her goal of seeing the chick complete, Corbie left after about an hour or so of visiting. Colt had been heartbroken once again, but Leonard hugged him tight and said, "Now, Colt, you're too big to cry about nothing. If that raven remembered you this long, it'll be back, I'm sure."
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Corbie did return after that, many times. It seemed that she would come around more and more often as Colt grew older and the pair's friendship deepened. She would circle over the clearing and one of the Mistress-Things would call into the large wooden nest, and the chick would come out in such a hurry he would sometimes trip himself up. The two would play in the clearing together, making quite the racket. Maybe if Colt weren't such a good and quiet boy all the time, the other Tribe members would've been angry about the noise, but as it was they let the child have his fun.
Colt was so happy to have his own special friend that the normally shy boy hardly kept anything from her. He was such a chatterbox that the raven could soon recognize her name, Corbie, and some other words. "Water" and "bread" were the first, and her vocabulary expanded quickly from there. Mistress had even started to take notice that Corbie was more responsive to her words, and said something that Corbie assumed was praise. She could never really tell what the Mistress was thinking, though, so honestly she wouldn't have been able to really tell either way.
Her mate passed of old age when Colt was six, and she stayed away for three months. Colt had been terribly worried about her during that period and refused to be consoled by anyone or anything. When he had finally worked up the courage to go and ask Mov or Aoggie, the two Temple priests that helped found the Tribe, if they would help him find the tear that Corbie used in order to look for her, the raven reappeared once more with two unknown, bigger ravens in tow.
The two were Corbie's sons, both having grown into fine adult ravens. With her dear mate dead, Corbie would not have another nest of chicks, and thought it was the right time to introduce her brood to the little chick she was playing with and helping to raise.
Colt had been delighted, though he was still not quite sure why Corbie had left. The loneliness that had made him so miserable was instantly forgotten, as most children forgot their hurts. He spent the day playing with the new friends Corbie had brought, and gave the names Merrit and Mockit to the ravens. The choices made Leonard howl with laughter.
"I've raised my lad to name some poor creatures that, have I?" he managed at last. Colt was indignant.
"They're Scots words, Da, I've heard you say them!"
"Aye, but do ye keen what they are, laddie?"
Colt did not know, and was gobsmacked to learn he had named his new friends Married and Dirty. But the damage was done, and the ravens would respond to nothing else.
The three birds were now welcome guests at the Tribe compound. Scraps were saved especially for them, and once Vikis had even allowed the birds inside the main house so Colt could show them the letters he was practicing with Mitchell, the Tribe's teacher.
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When Colt was eight, he found himself unable to fall asleep one evening. He ran through his mental checklist of reasons that might've caused this with impressive speed.
Was his stomach hurting? No, it felt fine. He'd made sure to avoid the heavier parts of the soup that had been supper that evening, only taking the broth with some bread.
Were his heart or lungs bothering him? No, and if they were he was supposed to immediately tell Vikis.
What else was wrong? Well, he was thirsty.
So that was it, then. Simple enough problem to resolve.
Colt stood up from his bed, careful not to wake up Orion who was sleeping next to him, sprawled out and hogging most of the small mattress they were sharing until Oswald finished his new bed. He crept his way down the hallway, towards the dining hall and kitchen. As he opened the door, though, he froze in place.
Da was sat down at the long, empty table. Daak was spending the night in the Jungle, hunting, so Colt hadn't expected him to be with Da, but it wasn't exactly normal for Da to be up this late. Next to him was a half-empty bottle of Scotch, one of the few bottles of alcohol that were on the compound. Alcohol was extremely poisonous to Beastmen, but every once and a while, one of the humans on the compound would drink it. It smelled rancid to Colt, and the fumes made him woozy, so he stayed away whenever someone was drinking it.
It took a few moments of shocked staring for the young boy to realize that he could hear a soft whimpering coming from the hunched back of his da. Colt's heart broke at the sound, and despite the him knowing Da preferred to drink alone and the alcohol-induced headache that he would no doubt develop from the fumes, Colt decided to approach.
As expected, his da was practically dead to the world. Colt lacked the strength to move Da to his bed, so he hustled off to said bed and striped the blanket off to bring that to Da instead. When he returned the muffled crying had stopped and had been replaced by quiet, slurred singing. Blanket held in his arms, Colt stopped in his tracks for the second time that night, listening to the sorrowful words crawling out of Da's throat.
"Upon one summer's morning
I carefully did stray
Down by the Walls of Wapping
Where I met a sailor gay
Conversing with a young lass
Who seem'd to be in pain
Saying, William, when you go
I fear you'll ne'er return again
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold
His hair it hangs in ringlets
His eyes as black as coal
My happiness attend him
Wherever he may go
From Tower Hill to Blackwall
I'll wander, weep and moan
All for my jolly sailor
Until he sails home
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold
My father is a merchant
The truth I now will tell
And in great London City
In opulence doth dwell
His fortune doth exceed
Two hundred-thousand gold
And he frowns upon his daughter
Who loves a sailor bold
A fig for his riches
His merchandise and gold
True love has grafted my heart
Give me my sailor bold
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold
Should he return in pov'rty
From o'er the ocean far
To my tender bosom
I'll press my jolly tar
My sailor is as smiling
As the pleasant month of May
And often we have wandered
Through Ratcliffe Highway
Many a pretty blooming
Young girl we did behold
Reclining on the bosom
Of her jolly sailor bold
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold
My name it is Maria
A merchant's daughter fair
And I have left my parents
And three thousand pounds a year
Come all you pretty fair maids
Whoever you may be
Who love a jolly sailor
That plows the raging sea
While up aloft in storm
From me his absence mourn
And firmly pray arrive the day
He's never more to roam
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold
My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold..."
For all the songs that Da had sung him over the years, Colt didn't recognize this one. It wasn't dissimilar to ones he'd heard before, but for some reason it felt like Da was tearing his heart out with every verse of this one in particular. He couldn't fathom why but it was Da's business, not his, so he simply draped the blanket over Da and fetched them both a glass of water before going back to bed.
The next evening, when he finally saw his da again, Colt plucked up his courage and asked about the mystery song. Da had stiffened as though he'd been struck.
"Never ye mind, laddie. It's nothing." Colt sincerely doubted that, but when he opened his mouth to protest, Da cut him off. "Don't ask again. Please."
He sounded so broken in those four words that Colt immediately closed his mouth. Later, when he was sure Da would not be suspicious, he pulled aside Irving, his da's cousin-by-marriage who he'd come to the Tribe with, and asked him about the song. Irving recognized it as something he'd heard the wives of sailors singing down by the docks. It had always been a hopeful song, though, as Irving remembered it. He didn't know why Leonard would have been troubled by it.
Colt had him write the lyrics down, nonetheless, and kept that paper with him until he had memorized the song in its entirety. It was obviously of some import to Da, so he wanted to remember it. The tune eventually wormed its way into becoming his favorite song. He told nobody, and only sang it when he was sure nobody could hear. Leonard eventually stumbled upon his son singing it, but said nothing.
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When Colt was twelve, Corbie passed away of old age. She had come to the clearing one last time with Merrit and Mockit, and Colt had tended to her in her last days. When it came time to bury the bird, the grave was dug under the bush where the two had first met. Merrit and Mockit spent the night there, and Colt meant to do the same, but was carried back inside by Daak when he was fast asleep to keep him from falling ill. Merrit and Mockit were understanding, of course, and after reconvening with Colt the next morning, headed back to the Bonewastes.
The visits continued, and though Colt was left grieving for a time, life moved ever onward and it helped nobody to dwell on things that had happened in the past.
Puberty didn't hit Beastmen in the way it did humans. Growth was gradual, and nothing happened quick enough for the younger generation of the Tribe. But Colt, as always, was the slowest to grow. He was still tiny by either species' standards, but he never complained about it to a soul. Not even to the 'It Twins, as they were called by anyone who couldn't tell the two apart. Which, of course, meant most everyone that wasn't Colt.
The three of them were as thick as thieves and spent a lot of time together. If Colt was reading when they appeared, he would read aloud to them. If he was working in the garden, they would hop along beside him. If Orion had managed to talk Colt into disobeying their parents and wandering into the Jungle unattended, the two of them would fly around until they located the siblings, and then scout ahead for them as they walked.
Back in the Bonewastes, Merrit and Mockit told the unkindness of their adopted sibling, the one called Colt, and their misadventures. Most of them didn't pay mind to the stories of the still-young pair, but some flew with them to meet the still-growing chick. Colt was never afraid of the ravens that came to gawk at hims, though some of them might've been considered monstrous in size and attitude.
"You know, maybe they're conspiring to eat you," taunted Orion one afternoon as they were washing the sheets in the yard. The most recent and most frightful raven visitor had left a few minutes prior, along with the 'It Twins. "One day they'll peck your eyes out and carry you off for their chicks to eat."
Colt hummed thoughtfully as he diligently scrubbed the cotton fabric. "I don't think so. They would've done so when I was a baby still, if that were the intention."
Orion, caught off guard, said nothing in reply and shook his head in exasperation. Nothing he said to provoke his brother ever seemed to have any affect. In fact, he was pretty sure that the someone ought to tell Colt that when someone implied something bad about his friends, the appropriate response is not to make an even darker counterpoint.
He didn't say anything though, as Da was also in the yard and had heard the remark, and proceeded to justifiably drag him off to the main house and scold him for it.
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Colt was sixteen at the time the incident happened.
For his whole life, whether Colt was aware of it or not, his family and the Tribe had all lived in the ever-looming shadow of the threat of attack. Many roaming packs of Beastmen lived in the area around the Clearing, most of which were actively hostile. The other Tribes that populated the area, made up of Females that often came to Vikis for healing, kept the American Temple Tribe as up to date with their territorial skirmishes and such as much as they possibly could, but since they also didn't have much interaction with the packs, one could never tell when the Clearing would be ambushed.
Most of the time, Beastmen avoided the Clearing like the plague, thankfully. It was too ingrained in their instincts that it was risky to be in the open, and they stayed away when possible. The Templefolk had no such qualms and settled in the humongous open space anyway. The inherent protection this gave was sheer luck, or the gods' blessing depending on who you asked.
But that was not a be-all-end-all solution. Raids on the Clearing happened from time to time. Food and other resources were a motivator, of course, but the promise of Females was a greater draw. Even the young ones were likely to be kidnapped and kept with the pack until they were of age to reproduce. Or, barring that, killed to prevent them from being claimed later on.
Females in the distant past were so rare that they were viciously protected and fought over. Now, though they were more numerous, the regard they were held in was the same.
Humans, when mating with Beastmen, produce a disproportionate number of Females to Males, in favor of the former.
Thus, as one could imagine, the American Temple Tribe was a pretty large target for greedy, or desperate, Beastmen.
The adults kept a close eye on the Jungle, watching for any movement in the trees. The constant tensing and relaxing of shoulders when a Beastman entered the clearing, only for it to be revealed as one of the members' husbands, was commonplace. A rifle hung above the door to the main house, but only half of the adult humans knew how to fire it. Vigilance was necessary at all times.
So, the warning call was quick to be raised when in the middle yet another sunny afternoon that saw Colt reading in the yard by himself, a pack of Beastmen burst into the Clearing, frothing and howling.
Terrified, Colt threw the book he was reading down and started to run back to the house. In his haste to get to the safety of his family, however, he tripped over his own feet and fell onto his stomach in the tall grass.
It was fortunate that he did, as from behind him, more Beastmen poured into the open air. Maybe they were spurred on by the bloodlust seeping from the other attacking group, or maybe they were waiting for an opening to attack and the other group was more reckless than they were. In any case, they also fell upon the house, trying to claw the walls open by force.
Colt laid on the ground where he had fallen, trembling. He did not cry. He did not even whimper. To do either would be suicide. But he could not think of what to do else to do, he was so incredibly frightened. The Beastmen were a ring of fire around the house. Others were scouring the clearing, no doubt looking for ones like Colt who had been caught off guard. There were none. It was a house-cleaning day. Most everyone had been inside. Orion had been acting up again, and he punishment was to do Colt's share of the work, so he had gone outside. If he hadn't, then--
The sound of a lion roaring from the other side of the house startled him. The Tribe's Beastmen must be fighting against the others. As he waited for the inevitable strike of a claw or ripping of a jaw, another familiar sound broke through the boy's stupor.
It was a croaky, ear-piercing cry. Something that would've foretold death for most that heard it, but instead filled Colt with unspeakable relief and joy.
Mockit and Merrit landed by Colt's side, silent as mice, and began nudging the boy's arms with their beaks and carefully clawing his dress with their talons, checking for injury. Colt assured them as best he could that he was alright, but a giant shadow breezing past him make him freeze up once more. Luckily, the gigantic cougar didn't notice him, but the ravens could quickly piece together the situation.
It took them all of a second to decide on a plan of action. Together, the two brothers coaxed Colt shakily to his hands and knees, keeping low in the grass to avoid detection. From that position, he could see the house more clearly. The invading Beastmen were well enough distracted by the Tribe's Beastmen and had left the house intact. But the invaders were still swarming the Clearing, particularly around the door, and he could not reach the house without detection.
Inside said house, Orion was frantically searching through the rooms for his missing brother, praying to whatever would listen that he would turn up. When each room he checked was revealed to be empty, the claw holding his heart tightened. Eventually, he was pulled by his da into the cellar. Orion did not go quietly.
"No!" he screamed, fighting against Leonard with all his might. "No, I can't go down yet, I have to find him!"
"Find who? You and Colt are the last ones up here!" Leonard yelled back.
"It's Colt that I'm looking for! He was outside, but he must've come in when he heard--"
"He was what?" Leonard dropped his hold on Orion, and flew down the steps. A panicked sweep of the heads in the dim light was all it took to confirm his worst nightmare. In a second, he was back up the stairs and nearly out of the house, screaming out his second-born's name, before Orion managed to tackle him. To go outside now was running into the mouth of the enemy. All he could do was claw on the door like a man dying of thirst at a dried up riverbank, sobbing Colt's name over and over while Orion hugged him from behind to keep him from leaving.
On the other side of the house, unaware of his da and brother, Colt crawled as quickly as he could manage, following Merrit's lead while Mockit watched behind them. When they reached the edge of the Jungle, Colt scrambled to his feet and ran into the dense jungle, a deafening roar letting him know that he'd been spotted at last.
But it was too late for the Beastmen to catch him now. By the time they reached the spot he had been, Colt was already in the thick brush, running for the tear in the universe that lead to the Bonewastes.
