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krwordgazer wrote: Betrayal from within the tribe A birthday Thirst Same-gender lovemates/lifemates A circle A sunrise It’s funny. The things you take for granted. The sunrise. The sunset. The full moon. The breeze in your hair. It’s so easy to believe that life is without limits. That tomorrow you will wake up. You will see the sunrise. You will see the sunset. You will see the full moon. And you will feel the cool breeze through your hair. But life is not limitless. One of these days, it will be your last sunrise; your last sunset; the last time you ever see a full moon; or feel the cool breeze through your hair. So many things in life, taken for granted – because we believe that we will see, feel, hear, and smell these things tomorrow. But tomorrows are never guaranteed. They’re assumed. And because of that – we forget to pay attention to the smaller details. The things so many find trivial. “Today would have been a turn of a season (1) for her,” a soft voice said. Shadow looked over his shoulder. Foxhair. “Foxhair,” Shadow said, keeping his voice low. “I was just visiting where we buried her and Wildthorn…” A small tree had sprung up from the grave; a seed planted by Shadow and shaped by Vineweaver. “I miss them too,” Foxhair said, stepping forward. “I lost my sister,” Shadow said, simply. “I lost my best friend,” Foxhair whispered. “As did I,” Shadow looked up at the sky and felt his eyes brim with tears. The sun was rising. In one tragic night, Shadow had indeed lost his chief and best friend, Wildthorn; as well as his younger sister, Purespring. (2) Shadow kneeled down in front of the grave, thoughtlessly drawing small circles in the sand with a broken twig. Burials and graves; a tradition he had learned from the humans, from the many seasons of watching them – and trying to learn their dialect and traditions, with hopes of one day making peace with them. “I feel as if I have betrayed the tribe,” Shadow said, flatly. “That’s nonsense chief,” Foxhair protested. Chief. A title he had earned at the cost of his best friend’s life. “Really?” He said, turning his head slightly to look at Foxhair. “A human kills Purespring, then when Wildthorn goes to get revenge – a human kills him. But I don’t kill the human – even though they were responsible for the death of the two who meant everything to me.” “They see it as wisdom, chief,” Foxhair assured him, “that you did not simply immediately wage war against the humans. You let the impact of the events pass before you decided on any form of action.” “Which was none,” Shadow said. “And because of it, we have lost no others,” Foxhair continued to try and convince Shadow to see what he had done was right. “Had you called for us to fight the humans – there isn’t a single one of us who would have denied your reasoning. But you took the passive road – and because of that – none of us died in a fight against the humans.” Shadow shook his head. “I have spent so many seasons trying to learn why the humans hate us – and see if there was something – anything! – that I could do that could one day mend whatever damage we did to the humans so long ago.” Shadow paused. “I was afraid.” “Afraid? Of the humans?” She asked. “No,” Shadow said. “Not of the humans … but I was afraid of losing everything I have built my life for – one day making peace with the humans.” Elsewhere… He was not gentle. He never was. Rarely was there tenderness. Or caring. There was only passion. Ruthless, cruel, and relentless passion. Suncaller collapsed to the side. His body ached. Blackstar, his love mate, was more aggressive than usual. Though Blackstar had often demanded unusual acts from his lovemate, the gentle Suncaller – tonight’s passion seemed more aggressive; more angry than ever. “Was it something I did?” Suncaller asked, pulling the furs over his body. “No,” was Blackstar’s only cold, callous, and distant answer. Blackstar stood and put on his leathers. His touch was not tender. He knew this. This was about dominating. About aggression. About strength. But Suncaller was so different than Blackstar. Where Blackstar had pitch black hair, and black eyes – void of any other color – Suncaller had soft, blond hair – and sky blue eyes – which is where his name had come from. Suncaller had always been the submissive lover to Blackstar. Neither truthfully knew why Suncaller continued to endure the abuse at Blackstar’s hand – if not physical, then verbal or mental. But Suncaller found something in Blackstar that he needed – or perhaps he believed he could make a tender lover out of Blackstar. Foolish. Blackstar peered out between the branches where he saw Shadow speaking with Foxhair. “He doesn’t deserve to be chief,” Blackstar growled. “He’s a wise chief,” Suncaller said. “Not as young or brash as Wildthorn.” “But at least Wildthorn didn’t think everything through, he simply acted,” Blackstar snapped back. “What he wanted, he took.” “And it was that very action that cost him his life,” Suncaller tried to remind Blackstar, but he would not have it. “I have to go,” Blackstar said, and walked away. “But you said we would watch the sunrise together,” Suncaller began – but Blackstar was already gone. Elsewhere, once more… It was guttural. The speech. But he had been learning it from Shadow. He knew one day he would put it to use. “Kill our chief, and I will become the new chief,” Blackstar said in the human tongue. “I will tell them that these lands are too dangerous with you humans – and I will lead them away from here. So long as Shadow is chief, he will continue to stay here and watch your people, and plague them. Help me, and I shall help you.” The Bone Dancer’s saw his same thirst for power reflected in the eyes of this tree demon. It only took a smile and a deal was struck…