Mother's Fury
Characters: Sanna, Ckara, Dovan, Raster, Millon, Baran.Rated PG. Warning: mild violence.
Raster's lips twitched into a grin at the pastoral vista spread before the kat'ni's position, crouched upon a slight rise in the land. A green-grassed valley rolled on into gentle hills, all very modest in slope and height, and spattered with the vivid colors of flowers. In the morn-hazed distance were grey-blue mountains, as sweetly accomodating as the mild hills themselves in height and smooth terrain; the sun peeked over these mountains, a vivid salmon-pink color with an outer rim of orange-red that sent soft, almost pastel rays streaking across the land. It was a peaceful morning, the wind soft and cool, and there was no danger in the air. Raster breathed in deeply, held the fresh lungful for a moment, and then exhaled silently. The warm rays shone on his dark indigo skin, smoothly reflective, and his alert green eyes glittered with keen intelligence; Raster was a slim, short kat'ni with lean muscles and angular features that gave him a fiercely calculating look. The rising sun shadowed his face, making him look more warrior-like than was his true nature.
Heavy but considerably soft paws padded almost silently behind the kat'ni, and in recognition of the gait he did not turn, only glanced over as a massive Trotter, broad raptorine frame layered with corded muscles, crouched at his side. Ora was his own, trained from birth, and though her hide was golden and scarred, proving her a metal in both breed and temperament, she had been with him for years now. Ever since Raster himself reached adulthood and had daringly stolen her unhatched egg from a wild clutch. Her cat-slitted eyes flicked over the horizon, breathing low and steady; she was on watch as much as he at this time, and the lack of tension in her body eased his own mind. Kat'ni senses were good, superior to those of humans and most demons, but Trotters had better; hence the long-time partnership between the colorful humanoids and the raptorines. The rest of Cadora had taken note, after trade had spread Trotters from the kat'ni continent of Khetten, and had adopted this custom. Not a pet, not an equal, not protector or companion -- Trotters were enigmas to most Cadorians, but those who understood took them and used them well.
Raster snapped out of his lazy train of thought as Ora reached over to gnaw on a short, curly tendril of his scarlet hair. She was impatient, which meant the rest of his group was awakening. The thin kat'ni rose and snorted under his breath good-naturedly as Ora dwarfed his height of 5'7" by several feet. She had her saddle, though -most kat'ni didn't take them off except when safe in a village- and Raster vaulted into the high-backed seat and settled snugly into it. Ora needed no urging to proceed at a 'trot' back to camp; the fastest Trotter as well as the largest in the group, her trot tended to be quicker than an average raptorine's gallop.
Meanwhile, four other kat'ni began to stir slowly, sleeping minds registering Ora's departure and starting to climb from the dreamlands. The first to wake fully was a broad-shouldered, muscular kat'ni with darkly vibrant chestnut skin. Stretching luxuriously, Millon quickly dressed in his typical baggy, medium brown pantaloons and sleeveless, copper-hued silk shirt. A sheathed longsword was slung easily over his shoulder and the chest-strap secured; brown-black eyes glinted with protective affection as he gazed over his sleeping companions. Raster had been last on watch; Ora would be bringing him soon. Millon's own Trotter, a black male nearly as large as Raster's beast, snorted groggily into the dirt as he sensed his master's rising and slowly staggered up. All five of the Trotters had been worked hard in the past two days, running at top speed without sleep, with very little pause at all, to control a stampede.
Millon swept an unusually blunt-fingered hand through the waves of longish navy blue hair, deftly tying it back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He turned a bold gaze on Ebony as the muscular raptorine joined his kat'ni in stretching and limbering up his powerful body. It was their slow movements that woke the other three Trotters; brown Hearth, stocky and powerful, grumbled in his throat as he too climbed upright and drank from a nearby stream; metal Coin's supple, reasonably tall coppery frame stretched methodically, though the raptorine's eyes remained closed as though he still slept; and Storm, the smallest Trotter of a dark iron-grey hue, simply stood, his lean, angular form a visual betrayal of his metallic breed.
Ora and Raster arrived with a quiet trotting gait, the indigo-skinned kat'ni slipping from the massive gold's saddle and landing lightly on the ground. He cast a sympathetic green gaze to the three kat'ni still asleep; theirs had been the most taxing role in keeping the stampede under control, in not losing any of the cattle, and in keeping the group of five herder-traders from physical harm. Millon and Raster approached each other on noiseless, slippered feet and gripped wrists in the traditional kat'ni greeting; intellectual and warrior, small and broad -- though complete opposites, they were good friends.
A soft, purring burble penetrated the early-morning silence that had fallen as the two un-Linked kat'ni waited patiently for their comrades to wake. The noise was a Link's version of a snore, and both green and brown gazes were drawn to the smallest of the long-legged felines, a female whose well-groomed fur was a pale corn-gold with darker tawny stripes flooding down her flank and slender limbs. Pettalla was very fast, being a small female, but her weaker endurance had put her as the most exhausted Link. Her Linked, Ckara, was equally tired, as she'd ridden her Trotter, Hearth, while communicating mentally with Pett to coordinate their efforts to control the herd. Her exhaustion was shared by the other two Linked pairs; to the un-Linkeds surprise, though, it was that slim kat'ni who awoke first of the paired trio.
Ckara lifted one dainty hand to scrub at her beautiful emerald eyes, the jeweled hue an unusually appealing contrast to her royal purple skin. The hand, sharp nailclaws painted bright red, then moved to tug at slightly tangled, long coppery hair with dyed carmine highlights. The healer of the group and often the sharpest of tongue, Ckara was possibly the most attractive as well. But her delicate features were sleep-softened and looked more child-like than anything as she struggled to sit up, leaning against the softly moving flank of her Linked. "Sore?" Millon's deep baritone inquired kindly, his knowing gaze having caught her stiff movements. Ckara nodded ruefully, a good-natured smirk creasing her face and showing off sharp fangs. The petite kat'ni rested one hand on Pettalla's round-eared skull, mentally willing her Linked to wake fully. The striped feline puffed a reluctant breath and opened one amber eye.
The other female Link twitched at the spoken word, broad black ear twitching. Rissanli was the Mother, one of the healthiest, fastest, and most intelligent alive; her kat'ni, Sanna, was likewise one of the best Mother-Linkeds, despite her very young age. Links, soul-bonders, were divided into four castes. The largest females were Mothers that controlled of the Links around them, producing clutches of up to twelve eggs, one possibly a Mother egg. The large males would compete in a flat-terrain Race for the chance to mate with the Mother; the fastest and canniest male would catch her and mate. Small females were not as fast, strong, nor as enduring as the larger castes, but they Raced as well, sometimes producing one or two eggs, but always of the two small castes. Small males would Race small females, or occasionally an out-of-luck large male would try. Though small females' Linkeds often took permanent mates, Mother-Linkeds, so very rare, would never take a solid partnership, knowing that so many large males would contribute well to the limited Link population that was bonded to kat'ni. Of the thousands of kat'ni, not all were acceptable to hatched cubs, and of the five or so hundred pairs, there were less than twenty Mothers. Stabilizing the population allowed no permanent mates.
Raster brought his thoughts around sharply, always one to review basic knowledge, but his musings were ended as Rissanli stood, disturbing her Linked next to her. Several feet taller than the slim Pettalla, Riss' pelt also outshone that of her fellow Link; with shiny, soft rust-gold fur and a lighter tawny-gold underside, she had black ears and sharply-clawed paws, ruddy chocolate rosettes were sparsely spattered across her back, rump, and shoulders. The long-legged, toned Link stretched and yawned noisily, further stirring her kat'ni from slumber.
Sanna did not want to wake up. She ached from head to toe, and exhaustion made lead of her bones and softened her lean muscles. Riss' gentle voice was persistent, though: Up, Sanna-mine. It dawns. Up. Though Links were capable, with effort and education, to speak the kat'ni tongue, they used telepathy for their Linkeds and other Links. And telepathy could not be ignored as the spoken word could. Wake. The sun calls you, as I do, Sanna-mine. One sleep-glazed, plum-hued eye eased open, its partner soon restoring depth to sight as Sanna stretched, still prone, and yawned. Tall even for a kat'ni, who tended as a whole to be slightly taller than humans and most demons, she was as lean and toned in build as the average kat'ni, smooth-skinned and swift in thought and deed. You are not average. You are my chosen, and I am not average; you are not. Up, Sanna-heart. You hunger and thirst; the others do as well. We must eat and drink, then begin to move. I trust not this area.
The last phrase, softly transmitted through the intimate open-soul connection that all Linkeds had with their feline partners, was what drew Sanna from the temptation of dreams. She made a final protesting sound in her throat, but her eyes finally focused on the streamlined muzzle of her Link. The young kat'ni sat up, muscles protesting loudly under blue-black skin, and slowly gathered her dark garnet hair in all its tangled curls into a messy bun. "About time," Ckara's nimble voice teased good-naturedly, the slender kat'ni now seated cross-legged against her yawning Link's flank. Sanna grinned, flashing fangs briefly, before a yawn took her again and she shivered with unaccustomed chill. Rissanli settled immediately next to her and the cold eased; Coin, her metallic, curled at his kat'ni's side and laid his supple-skinned muzzle on her thigh, lending his bodyheat as well.
Now four worried gazes fell on the last sleeping kat'ni and his Link; Dovan hadn't stirred, even at the voices and yawns and movement. Sanna raised a reddish brow, stark against her dark skin, and frowned at her brother-figure. As though he felt her concern, the well-built, tall kat'ni stirred restlessly, eyes flickering under sealed eyelids in a dream. Riss extended her long, thick tail and brushed his face with its tip; Dovan flinched, azure eyes snapping open with a stifled gasp. With dark blue skin, long ebony hair, and a build balanced appealingly between strong and lean-tall, Dovan could easily be considered the most handsome of the group... though now his vivid blue eyes were troubled with dream-dregs. Only after he calmed did his Link move, obviously having been alert and only now raising his broad muzzle. Bellommo was a large male, fit to Race a Mother and simple in fur; he was glossily black with some white on his stomach and speckled on his chest, gold eyes stark against the shadowy pelt. He tended to be the calmest Link, as his Linked was the calmest of the paired kat'ni; his unruffled expression soothed any worries about his Linked's health.
"The morn greets us well, without any danger," Raster murmured, one sharp-fingered hand resting lightly on Ora's smooth flank. "The cattle are tired and will not be much trouble for us today. We lost only one calf overnight; it drowned in the stream nearby." Sanna frowned but, considering the crisis that they had just survived, it was remarkable that they'd not lost half or more of the massive herd. "Food," Millon rumbled sensibly, passing out the travel rations that went to herder-traders such as themselves: dried meat and fruit, nuts and roots, some grain and a little spice to cure the dull taste. The five kat'ni ate in companionable silence, not given to talk when there was weariness in the air; the five Trotters disappeared to hunt small game; and the three Links were not hungry, unable to eat so soon after the complete exhaustion they'd suffered. And so time leisurely passed.
Sanna finally rose among the rustle of her plain garb, consisting of nothing more than trousers and a sleeveless shirt. The other four stood simultaneously, and five sets of kat'ni eyes met; words were not necessary for this group, these kat'ni who knew each other so well that they could predict everyone's move. Trotters were recalled from their hunts, Link harnesses were checked, packs were slung onto shoulders or strapped to belts. Sparing their Links further weight, even the paired kat'ni swung onto their Trotters' sturdy backs, the raptorines reacting with various antsy or obedient movements. Sanna grinned her amusement at Coin's rebellious side-stepping and urged the beast forward, followed by her companions, flanked by the three Links.
Into the sunlight of the open they emerged, pupils narrowing instantly to adjust from the shadowy wood they had left to the bright plains. The herd of rugged cattle, some three thousand strong, grazed or dozed placidly, none of the stampede's panicked fervor remaining. It was from Chu'ton, Sanna's hometown and her place of Linking, that they herded the beasts; their path led them hundreds of miles across the wide expanse to the far village of Kya'ton, a reclusive but elite place for pairs and un-Linkeds alike. They were the only group that could consist of just five kat'ni and have any success at all in their herding; Sanna's reputation, and that of her companions, was formidable. The toned kat'ni grinned, white teeth bright in a blue-black face, and extended one arm to gesture. "There is our path, kat'ni. We take it. The Links can range ahead and on the forward flanks of the herd: Raster and Millon, take the rear flanks. Dovan, Ckara and I will be at their backs." The simple maneuver slipped into motion as the massive felines goaded themselves into a brisk gallop and the Trotters spread out according, emitting harsh hunting coughs that spurred the cattle onwards, guided expertly by the three Links.
It took three weeks of relatively uneventful travel to arrive at Kya'ton, the herd welcomed into the large pens prepared for them by skilled local herders. There was only one Mother resident in this village: an older woman, ruby-skinned and white-haired, with a grey-and-gold Link. The Mother-Linked, Tyasha, was one of the few for whom Sanna felt any vestige of respect; the young kat'ni was renowned for scorning the weaker, less intelligent Mother-Linkeds whom she saw as pathetic excuses for the leaders they should be. Tyasha embraced the younger woman formally, smiling with relief to see them. "Rough journey?" she asked as she took Sanna's elbow and guided her into the village, the four kat'ni following. "Nothing we couldn't handle," Sanna grinned with her traditional response, eyeing Tyasha's Nuffarri with a skeptical eye. The Mother was older and more frail than she'd expected, and since timing, setting, and emotion was crucial during a Race to produce a Mother egg, Kya'ton had not managed one in all of Tyasha's time in the reclusive village. To her credit, Rissanli had had one, in only four clutches of her young life.
Tyasha chuckled under her breath and treated the five to food and the luxury of baths, company, and rest. Nuffarri guided the three stranger Links through the well-built settlement, urging them to eat of the best meat and have first drink at the fresh, cold water. Sanna caught Riss' expert glances at the large males of the village and mentally scolded her; if she were to Race here, the clutch would stay here. Sanna wanted to further her own hometown, not a village that might not even have candidates for Linking. The kat'ni here were silent, more war-like, and more cunning than she liked... moreso than Links liked as well. Links that did not soul-bond ran wild, and were as unapproachable as any beast of the wood or plain.
"San." The Mother-Linked jerked out of her thoughts, plum-hued eyes fastening on Raster's thin features. He grinned wolfishly and hunkered near where she sat, mending a tear in Riss' harness. "Let's scram soon, kah? I don't like the feel of these people." It had only been two days of much-needed rest, but Raster's sense of character was flawless. Sanna nodded and rose, summoning Ckara and Dovan through their Links through hers. "Millon has the Trotters ready for us, and rations packed. They've nothing to send back, so we might as well stop at the next village: Rhe'ton. Biggest settlement around, surely they've something for us to herd or transport." Sanna nodded again, thanking Raster under her breath for the warning as cold stares chilled her to the bone. The shorter kat'ni quickened his pace uneasily, Millon within sight now. Dovan and Bello arrived; then Ckara and Pett; then Riss as everyone mounted their Trotters.
Tyasha hailed them from an open window. "Leaving so soon, Chu'ton Mother?" Sanna managed an amiable smile, "Kah, Kya'ton. Thank you for your hospitality." Tyasha's gold eyes darkened slightly at being so easily rebuffed, but she had no choice but to return thanks for the herding job well-done, and well wishes for their safe journey. Her voice had a hollow ring to it, and Raster visibly fidgeted, bright green eyes darting about. Ckara was also uneasy, though Dovan and Millon were as solid as rocks, set on their Trotters grey and black. Sanna gladly led the way out of Kya'ton, unfriendly stares at their backs. Only when they were loping easily in the strangely-uncrowded plains did Millon remove his hand from the hilt of his longsword.
"Tsuh," the broad-shouldered warrior snorted, brown eyes rolling expressively. Never one much for words, but nods went around the group in total agreement to what he said through body language. Rissanli turned her red-gold head swiftly towards the distant forest as they ran, eyes narrowing. I smell foreign Trotters. And blood. "Huzzah, kat'ni," Sanna snapped, wheeling Coin about with deft touches on his shoulders and neck; the rest of the kat'ni spun to look, Ckara and Dovan informed by their own Links. "Trotters and blood," Ckara muttered for Raster's and Millon's benefit; they nodded. "Brigands?" was Raster's one question, both scarlet brows arched. Sanna shrugged, "I'm loathe to check it out. Riss says the blood is old and dried. There are about twenty of them."
"Huzzah." The warning rumbled from Millon's lips as he pointed one muscular arm ahead, where none had been looking. The five kat'ni steeled themselves simultaneously as they saw the six Links and partners that awaited them. Such waiting usually meant a challenge, a duel, or occasionally a raid such as brigands might enact. Not all bandits were un-Linked kat'ni, after all. "This could get ugly," Dovan opined grimly, hand set to the sword at his hip. "They wouldn't challenge a Mother," Sanna countered, urging Coin forward to run alongside Rissanli. "Tsuh," Ckara snorted skeptically, switching from Hearth to Pettalla mid-run. Dovan made a similar switch from Storm to Bellommo as Sanna too went from raptorine to Link. The heady gallop slowed, first to a lope and then to a trot... and finally the five kat'ni halted a dozen lengths from the waiting Linked pairs.
One man stepped forward, a Link even larger than Bello at his side. "Chu'ton Mother? Sanna?" he inquired, looking at her respectfully but quizzically. The garnet-haired kat'ni began to wonder if their intents weren't hostile after all but replied cautiously, not dismounting: "Kah, stranger. My company and I return to Chu'ton after delivering a herd to Kya'ton. Your names and business?" The male, oddly pale with light gold skin and sea-green hair, seemed to relax and swept a graceful bow. "Baran, sachyana, with Tarrassi," he introduced, using a term of respect and humility towards a Mother-Linked. "My group and I..." he gestured grandly to those men and their partners standing behind them: all males, only two of them small Links, "we have been banished from our hometown of Rhe'ton. The only Mother we ever loved has died in battle against brigands, brigands that are Linked with powerful beasts." Sanna took this news unexpectedly hard, and Baran flinched as her hand flew to her heart and dug nails into her clothing.
Raster urged Ora forward from where the four had ranged themselves supportively behind Sanna and dismounted, ever ready to interfere on her behalf. "Sanna was close to the late Volara," he explained in a quiet voice as the blue-black woman slipped from Riss' back. "Who does that leave in charge of Rhe'ton?" Baran eyed the thin kat'ni but answered, "Rossem. She is no leader. Volara spoke well of you, Chu'ton Mother. ... Sachyana?" Baran's violet eyes widened at Sanna's sudden and rather loud curse. "Rossem is no leader indeed!" she snarled, Riss' ears flattening as well. "Rossem is a lowly coward unfit to Link at all." Baran seemed taken aback by such a harsh opinion, until he remembered how Volara had talked of her fellow Mother-Linkeds as well. Sanna was twenty years younger than his beloved Mother, but she had the same eyes and mind. And tongue, apparently, as she continued swearing under her breath.
"Sachy-" Sanna cut him off with a quick gesture. "Enough. Informality, please. I am Sanna and nothing more. Use sachyana when you come to me to report something bad happening that's your fault: it's how everyone else uses it." She flashed a quick, unexpected grin. "What would you have me do, kah, Baran? I've my own village to run." Those pretty violet eyes widened again and the pale kat'ni was quick to deny. "No, no... Sanna. We were all that could not stand Rossem: we left. We ask to come to Chu'ton..." Baran trailed off at the fierce gaze that came from Ckara, Dovan's and Millon's drawn swords, Raster's scowl.
Sudden support flooded from his Link, Tarrassi, relayed from the other five pairs, and Baran resumed his request. "...and become part of that village's population. Under you, Sanna, Rissanli." He saw the lack of hostility in the Mother-Linked's violet gaze and knelt, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut to wait for her decision. The rustle of cloth and fur told of his men's kneeling, their Links angling their torsos in their own bowing motion. Sanna was greatly disturbed by this; one of the three Mothers that she truly loved and respected was dead. The other was nearing the end of her natural life, and the last was as hard to find as Sanna herself, always moving from village to village. It boded ill. But Baran and his group did not move, and though Riss fed Ckara's and Dovan's emotions from their Links to Sanna, there was no logic behind their protective anger. Out of the corner of her vision, Sanna saw Raster's expression alter to one of reluctant mildness as mind won over heart. He would not look so if he felt that these six men were bad people, and minutely he nodded, as though he felt her gaze.
Sanna stepped forward once, twice, thrice to reach Baran; her hand reached down and gripped his shoulder firmly. "Rise, Chu'ton Linkeds," she demanded, a grin tugging at her lips as she saw the incredulously happy looks on most faces, some near tears with relief. An outburst of loud purring from the six Links warred with heart-felt thank-yous from their kat'ni in volume, and Sanna had to laugh, easing the tension from the air. Ckara abruptly twitched, her emerald gaze casting to their right. "Those brigands, San. Pett says they're moving towards us at a fast clip, using stealth. She reports less than twenty-five, like you said. Fight or flee?"
Baran and his men watched the Mother-Linked carefully; through this situation, this response, they would judge their new leader. Sanna grinned, flashing fangs in the afternoon light. "We run from no one. Remember this, my new kat'ni: we are the best. They are only petty bandits on Trotters." Baran grinned fiercely and drew his sword, copied by the five kat'ni behind him. As one, the group of six vaulted onto their Links; Sanna grinned at such coordination as she swung herself onto Riss and Raster remounted Ora. "We wait for them. I will not go into an ambush." Sanna's orders were crisp and the long dirk at her side slid into her left hand, her right filled with a shortsword. Ckara nocked an arrow to her bow; Dovan and Millon had already drawn their swords; and now Raster took into hand two throwing knives.
The attack came swiftly, organized chaos. The Trotters were of all breeds, earths and metals, blacks and whites and blues. Their riders, likewise, were of all hues and builds, but there was a red scar across each brow that marked them as alike. When he saw this, Baran sucked in a breath and bid his Link to inform Sanna through her Mother that the brigands that killed Volara had bore the same mark. She jerked visibly when she received the relayed message, and with sudden fury she and Rissanli hurled themselves forward, into the midst of enemies. Frantically, the eight Linked pairs waded in after them; Ckara had dismounted Hearth to play sniper through arrows, and the four unridden Trotters wreaked havoc among the bandits, Raster and Ora causing the greatest damage with his bladeplay and her power. It was over very quickly, dead Trotters asprawl in the tall, golden-green grasses, some dead brigands among them, but most were only injured or unconscious.
Sanna had Riss take stock among the Links: only a few had received very minor scratches, and the rest were unscathed. She herself checked the kat'ni: one of Baran's men had received a deep gash in his upper arm, another a more minor wound in his thigh. Ckara set to treating them, stifling protests with a sharp and often witty tongue. The rest could manage their own scrapes -all kat'ni knew 'first-aid'- and Sanna quickly surveyed their Trotters as Baran's uninjured men bound the brigand survivors. Coin and Storm, the more agile and quicker metals, had not taken harm; Ora and Ebony, size and strength to their credit, were unscathed; but the brown earth, Hearth, had taken a dagger in his muscular shoulder. Sanna swore ripely, earning a few startled looks, and removed the blade; the Trotter hacked, a pain-filled sound, but did not move as she began cleaning and binding the wound. Ckara used more colorful language when she realized it was her Trotter that had been hurt.
"Mother." It was Baran, standing nearby and looking properly respectful... though the battle-rush still shone in his eyes. Sanna spoke before he could, sparing him one glance and no more. "You will act of your own accord much of the time, my kat'ni. I am often not around to ask what to do next. You lead your men well, Baran. Continue this." From the young man's openly shocked expression, she had hit home. Raster muffled his snickering behind one small hand before tapping the taller kat'ni on the shoulder. "Get used to it, kah?" he chided. "She's like that." And to Sanna, "Do you claim revenge for Volara or is it Baran's?" One look from the Mother-Linked was enough to send Raster, only half-jokingly, ducking behind Baran to hide.
Sanna shifted her weight and eased the stress in her shoulders as she finished tending Hearth's wound. She caressed the brown's blocky muzzle, trying to soothe him, but there were almost a dozen captured bandits to attend to. She had too much pride to kill them in cold blood, though death they deserved for association alone with those who killed a Mother and her Linked. And as they came to their senses, they looked fearfully up at the dark kat'ni who stood deathly still over them. "Your Trotters and fellows are dead," Sanna enunciated slowly, clearly. Her violet eyes narrowed to slits as she continued in the same deliberate tone, "We will tie you firmly and stake you to the ground separately. You will die, but not by my hand, nor any hand that I claim. The land will drink your blood, as it once drank that of your victims."
Ckara rose, her slender frame cleansed of blood already, and helped the wounded two up carefully. She double-checked their bandages and aided them onto their Links, one large, one small. Seeing that Sanna had spun on her heel and left the now-terrified brigands, she met her halfway with a tight grin. "Both bad wounds. Karlib won't walk for a week, and for a month afterwards with a serious limp. Gerack will need my constant attention to make sure he regains use of that arm... full use is too early to hope for." Sanna's eyes narrowed and she leaned in close to the shorter kat'ni, making her voice low and firm. "He will regain full use, Ckara. He must. He is one of ours, now, Ckara." The repetition of her name unnerved the slim woman, and she nodded. "I'll try my best, San. I always do." Sanna grinned abruptly and the tension eased, friendship reestablished by a handgrip.
"Baran!" The pale kat'ni turned and walked calmly to Sanna, the rest of the group finishing the job of staking out the brigands for nature to kill or fellow bandits to rescue. Fate was fate. "Mother," Baran bowed, clearly awaiting orders. Sanna stifled a sigh and resigned herself to teaching these new Chu'ton kat'ni about how things were run... her way. "We move at a reasonable pace. Easy on the wounded, both Trotter and kat'ni. Have any of your men Trotters?" Baran shook his head mutely, eyes dark. Sanna waited, and after a long pause he reluctantly explained. "We, too, fought the brigands that hit Rhe'ton. All of our Trotters, some we raised from eggs, were slaughtered. Only recently were we and our Links healed, able to leave on our own."
Sanna carefully kept the scowl, the self-disappointment, the guilt from her eyes and face. She gripped Baran's shoulder, hard enough to elicit a wince, and met his eyes. "Karlib and Gerack will heal fully, Baran. That I promise you. Ckara is a good healer, and I am not foolish, despite my youth." Though by the looks of it, Baran had the same unusual combination of youth and skill. "We will not push them. And when we reach Chu'ton, you will all have new Trotters -- your picks." The promise was both risky and generous: Trotters were best obtained as eggs or hatchlings, and taking those from the wild was dangerous to both kat'ni and Trotter parents. But Sanna knew she could fulfill both halves of her oath, and Baran saw that, perhaps, in her eyes. "Kah, Mother," he agreed quietly.
With care for the wounded, and haste tossed aside as a useless luxury, nine Linked pairs, five Trotters, and two un-Linked kat'ni moved out across the plains.