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"Move," His mother snarled as a paw snaked out and struck at the scarcely seven year old cub. D'an-net Vu scampered quickly out of the way, much used to his mother's ways. She had been in her twenties when she'd had the damnation of pregnancy. But for now she had the blessing of a fresh kill, and though the children had long stopped nursing, their very presence taxed her. They could wait to eat. D'an-net Vu and his siblings sat, watching their mother take her fill. She looked up with a snarl, as if she could feel their very eyes on her back. There was a twisted smile to her eyes, "You expect me to feed you?" The cubs squirmed beneath her gaze, unwilling to meet her eyes or offer response. Their mother's face wrinkled with disgust. What stupid, weak children she had spawned. They would learn, one of these days. You got nothing in life unless you stole it from another's hands. Even in hunting, they stole life from another, and for her that was proof enough. The harsh life of a necromancer had only cemented this ideal in her. Fine. If they would act as if the gods hadn't given them a spine, they could act as if the gods hadn't given them an empty belly either. "Find your own meal."

The life of a necromancer was hard. Even before these damnable children she had roamed all over their little continent, moving from one region to the next before the locals could find her. To them, she was evil and death incarnate--and the monicker brought a twisted smile to her face. She had been a daughter of Hurin once. A little sacred healer with a temper that boiled hotter than the spring she would never be christened in. When her mother and father were caught in a rockslide, her father had been killed instantly--buried in the mountain rubble that had served as their shelter. Her mother however.. With her chest caved in, and dreadful red leaking from her mouth and nose, she gasped for air with those wild and terrified eyes. She could not speak, and the only sound that came from her had been a dreadful wheeze. Her little sacred daughter did her best to heal the dieing mother, and when she failed there was a new power that welled up. It was filled with hate at the world, at the powers of the gods and how little they had used them. She had wished so hard for her mother to get up, stand up and be fine, and the corpse did as it was bidden. She was chased out from her home, by the people who had loved and helped to raise her. It was that night when her mother's corpse shambled clumsily back home, and if it had not been for the watchful eyes of the pride, she would have shambled right into that sacred spring. In the mean time, years had passed. Now she was constantly pestered with the presence of three stupid little cubs. D'an-net Vu, whose tail was licked with flame, Dhamir, the largest of the three--and the most stupid, and finally little Lessa. A sacred user, just like mommy. She didn't know if she should be proud or disgusted.

D'an-net nosed his brother's shoulder as he rose, and the larger brother followed as their small sister bounced along. This was becoming a more common occurance. Even when their mother had plenty she was swatting them away from her kills. They had been clever--and lucky--enough to find enough sustenance in their foraging, at least thus far. Lessa scampered before them. It seemed like no matter how bad things got, she still found some way to smile. She took dear care of D'an, and kept Dhamir laughing and playing. "Look!" Her little voice was bright with giggles away from their mother's presence. "Black berries!"
The three of them gorged themselves until their mouths were stained purple and their bellies were full.
"Come on," D'an rose as he spoke. His little belly was tight, and it made him want nothing more than to roll over and sleep, but their mother would be finished eating soon. "We can't get left behind again. Mom won't wait and you know she's cross when we lag behind." Dhamir groaned, with quite the pout on his face. "Can't we stay just a little longer? I'm still hungry." Lessa laughed, "You're always hungry DahDah." She pawed at her bigger brother and giggled as she tugged at his ear, "Come on. Grumpy old D'an is right. Momma will be cross." Dhamin groaned, determined to keep his rear planted, even as his sister tried to tug him along. "But Momma's always cross. Whatsit matter if we're late or not." D'an's eyes narrowed, his tail beginning to lash behind him in irritation as his ears turned back. "You wanna be the one she's mad at? Fine. But if I don't have to, I aint gonna be." Dhamir gave another groan as he rose. Lessa scampered ahead, breaking into giggles all over again. D'an wasn't sure whether to marvel at her bravery, or smack her for her stupidity. "C'mon," she shouted back at her grumpy faced brothers, "Let's make it a game of tag!" Dhamir's face brightened as he agreed and bolted after her. D'an, grumpy as ever, ignored the game for as long as he could--but then the both of his siblings nearly trampled him, and all of a sudden the child started acting like a child, and joined in the game.

The kill hadn't been half finished when they returned, and their mother was nowhere to be found. Something was wrong. There hadn't been near enough finished to fill their mother's belly, and it had been a while since she had brought down a good meal. She should have gorged. Lessa's bright expression paled in fear, "Did..did momma leave us?" Dhamir said nothing, looking more frightened than anything. D'an looked hard at the kill--something was wrong. He was sure he could feel eyes on him, he could feel something, someone watching. The young cub crouched, bright eyes wide. His voice was scarcely above a whisper, hushed and rushed, "We have to go." Dhamir began to groan, loudly as always, and his brother cut him off with a hiss. "Something is wrong. We have to run." Lessa scampered behind D'an, her bright blue eyes daring about the high grasses of the plains, "D'an, D'an I'm scared.." Dhamir got the message, he crouched low and slunk to his brother's side, but the fear was plain on his face. D'an could have sworn that he saw something move in the brush, he kept his voice low, just barely audible. "We follow momma's scent, and we move quiet." His siblings nodded, and followed as close and quiet as they could manage. Lessa had always thought that out of the three of them, D'an was the most like momma. But he wasn't mean like her, he wasn't cruel. He was the one who watched what momma did, he saw the purpose in it even when she was cruel. D'an was the one, at least in Lessa's mind, who kept them safe.

The cubs followed their mother's scent in the underbrush. She had been careful not to leave any visual trace. Hihel'khlai knew well enough when trackers were on her trail. She paused mid stride, scarcely moving as she scanned the forest around her. Something was coming, she could feel the eyes upon her back. With a snarl and a lightning swipe of the claw, she whirled around. Something caught in her grasp before she could even see what it was, and with a yowl it flew, impacting hard against a tree. D'an's vision blurred as he shakily stood, blood welling up from the cuts in his face. His mother's face looked surprised, and for a second almost remorseful before it turned cross once again. "What in S'hem's name do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me you little brat?!" Her voice was low, near a whisper. Lessa rushed forward from where she had huddled behind Dhamir. "We were just trying to find you momma," The little ninja's voice was sweet and as quiet she could manage--she even did well keeping much of her distress out of her tone, "D'an knew something was wrong, he knew we needed to find you and we needed to be quiet, he didn't mean to scare you momma, he really didn't!" His mother's face wrinkled into the beginnings of a snarl as she looked between Lessa and D'an. Those two at least stood a chance in life. That little coward Dhamir--she would be surprised if he survived cubhood. With a low growl she turned, and resumed her pace, wasting no breath on explanations for children who lacked the intellect to understand them. Lessa and Dhamir rushed to their brother's side, Dhamir offering support as Lessa worked at D'an's wounds. Mother would be angry if his blood left a trail for whatever tracked them.

That was when they heard the crashing, when whatever had been following them decided it no longer needed concealing. Three beasts almost twice their mother's size swept around the cubs, and judging by the commotion ahead, more had swamped their mother. D'an, Dhamir and Lessa huddled under the dark eyes of three large males, and when the commotion settled their mother was pushed to them. In a rare display of maternal instinct, she crouched low and growling over her children. D'an couldn't help but notice the way their mother kept her weight off of one paw, how her side heaved in pained gasps. The warriors of the plains had tracked not their mother, but the children. She was just too clever, they explained. They had been on her tail for weeks, ever since she had the misfortune of crossing into their territory. "You would be dead now," Their leader said, his face grim. "If it were not for your children." The hair on the back of D'an's neck stood on end as the gargantuan hunter continued. "Give them to us, leave our territory, and we will let you live."
Hihel'khlai snarled, hackles raised, "You will never take them from me. They. Are. Mine."
The hunter's face turned grim. "Then it's the death of the lot of you." He hardly seemed pleased with her decision. Her death had already been decided, he had only lied for the sake of the children. But now, when cubs snarled at him and stared with livid eyes, there would be no saving them. He would not have his pride straining to feed mouths that would never hold anything but contempt. Yet still, they were children... His eyes had found the stare of one of the cubs, one with bright, livid orange eyes, who despite everything snarled and stared right back. He turned his back on the terrible little family. "We will walk fifty lengths east. When we have reached the end of that fifty lengths we will resume our hunt, and when we find you, we will kill all of you." The words were cold, matter of fact. He might as well have told them the time of day. "Run while you can."
Hihel'khlai wasted no time. "Slow down momma!" Lessa begged, "Just let me help you!" Her mother backhanded her with a snarl. "We have no time you stupid, stupid girl," With a grand sweep she pushed the cub to her feet and pushed her forward. "Now run!"

They ran until their wind was long gone. Ran until their feet hurt, and bled. Just before sunset they came to the treacherous Eastern Canyon cliffs. Hihel'khlai looked at her children with panic in her eyes, where was the path?! There were few, so few safe paths down the cliffs, and she knew not where a single one lay. Hihel'khlai swallowed hard, and turned her eyes to the canyon below her. "We must climb down. If we can make it across the river, we will be safe." Her voice was so rushed, there was no room for malice or sarcasm, only fear. She leaped down to the nearest overhang, a sheer, ten foot drop. Fluidly she shifted, holding her arms out above her. The children hesitated, and her face turned wrathful. "Jump, you stupid little creatures! They will slaughter you if you stand there and stare."
D'an looked at his siblings, and back to the sheer drop. Dhamin stood frozen, and Lessa's face twisted as if she were about to cry. "Lessa!" His voice held the same sharpness as their mother. His sister recoiled as if he had struck her. He took a breath, and steadied himself. "Lessa, you first. Momma will catch you." His sister bit her lip, tears welling up. D'an forced a smile. "Go on, you'll be fine. It will all be fine."
Shakily, Lessa leaned far off the edge, and dropped into her mother's arms. "Now you, Dhamin." His brother shook his head, but D'an found that smile again. "Momma will only be angry if you don't." With a groan, his brother followed into his mother's arms. D'an was poised to follow when the hunters came rushing through the grasses. In a panic, he fell just shy of his mother's arms, just shy of the ledge on which she perched. The sharp rocks of the canyon opened up their maw as if to swallow him whole, and yet they stopped with a grand yank. D'an gave a yowl of pain, looking up for the source. There, he found his mother's panicked eyes, her hand gripped around his firey tail. She mercilessly pulled him up, and gathered her three children tight to her chest as the hunters leaned over the edge. She could have ripped those smug smiles off of their faces and fed it to the carrion birds.
"Look at the little cornered ninja, fellows. Look how she's done our job for us." With that, their leader left the edge of the cliff, and soon, his hunters followed. Hihel'khlai had no doubt that they would wait. They would be sure that she left their lands or died trying. She held her breath for a long moment before releasing her grip on her children. "We're fine. We're fine. They won't follow us into the cliffs, not here. We just have to make it to the other side, and we will be fine." D'an didn't want to ask his mother why the hunters would not follow. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, anyway. Hihel'khlai's arms slowly relaxed, and slipped away from her children. The sun was low in the sky now, and Hihel'khlai lacked the light to find a solid path down. Carefully, she sat back down on their ledge, the children watching her with large, fearful eyes. There'd be no escaping the little beasties now. Maybe she should have just given them to the Almeera hunters, the stupid would never make it down the cliffs. "We sleep on the cliff tonight. Tomorrow we climb." The children swallowed their fear. Tomorrow they would face the cliffs but for now, their tired, sore feet needed rest.

"We live in Cities, The like you'll never see
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run free
Livin in ruins of a grand place within my dreams
But you know, we're on each other's team..."

"Shut your trap, Lessa!" Her mother's words cut the cub's singing short as she stared with teeth bared. She would have knocked that smile out of her stupid little face with a well inentioned smack, but the cub danced along a ledge far to high for Hihel'khlai to reach. D'an and Dhamir knew, though. Lessa had always had her little songs, her little tunes she sang when things got scary. Most times, they were nonsense, but she always said it made her brave. That it was a way to let go of all the fear or the hate or the sorrow without it having to shatter your heart to get out. D'an was never sure how right she might have been, but with little Lessa dancing like the world wasn't watching, and singing like her mother wouldn't care, he did feel a bit braver. Lessa cut her song and dance short, and with a deep breath faced that sheer drop one again. Another little song bubbled up, little more than a whispered melody, "And we're so happy... Even when we're smiling out of fear.." The little cub gave a wiggle of the rear, testing her balance for a split second before she simply rolled off the sheer drop. The cub let out a scream, some strange mix of elation and fear. There was one terrifyingly long moment when the world swelled beneath her, when suddenly she realized exactly how far that jump had been. What had looked like only a few lengths earlier now seemed to be miles upon miles, and yet the thrill she felt couldn't quite be called fear. She was dropping out of the world, falling til she hit the sky like one of the great birds of prey. Then suddenly, the earth shuddered beneath her as she landed in her mother's arms, and her cry dissolved into adrenaline driven giggles. "What next, momma?" Hihel'khlai frowned at her child. While she couldn't be entirely angry with the girl, she wanted to tell her to take things more seriously, to be properly afraid of the world around her... But Hihel'khlai saw something in the child, a spark that had long died out in herself. For her, that spark had been trampled when her family had been caught in a landslide, and her pride chased her out. She should.. she should preserve it in the little one.. She couldn't bear to put her through the same pain... She mustered a frown, "Don't look so happy you little twit." Lessa only giggled as she joined her brothers at the edge of another ledge. It had almost become a game. Their mother would jump, fall and climb her way to the next suitable ledge, and the cubs would follow--but who would it be to spot the way? Dhamir stretched out a paw, his expression bright and excited, "There, that one! It's close enough, right?" Their mother half snarled at him, "No you dolt, it would take a miracle for you to make that jump." D'an began to worry as he scanned the canyon wall below him. There were still several hundred lengths before they would be able to leap down safely, but he could see no other overhang or grip that even their mother might be able to reach... Lessa must have noticed the same. "But momma, there's no other way..." She looked up at her mother with those big blues, and her mother frowned. She always frowned. Hihel'khlai scanned the cliff walls--that couldn't be the only way. There were more holes in this canyon than there were in coral. There had to be another way, perhaps she just couldn't see it... She shimmied forward, but to her dismay nothing else came to view.. A string of curses tumbled forward as she coiled tight and launched herself at the forever faraway ledge. Hihel'khlai hit the edge hard, her chest slamming into the unforgiving stone as her claws scrambled for a hold. It was a long moment before the panting coreleo pulled herself onto the rocky ledge.
The children watched in a terrified silence as their mother collapsed, panting on the hot canyon stone. Finally Hihel'khlai pulled herself to her feet. The limp in her back foot hadn't yet healed, and there were two more ribs broken. Such stupid children. This never would have happened if it weren't for them. With a snarl she lifted herself, shifting to her spiderpaw once more. "Get your asses over here." The hate and malice had gone out of her voice, worn out of her. Where there would have been taunts or disbelief, the children only looked to each other as if silently debating who would go first. With reluctance plain on Lessa's face, and fear on Dhamir's, D'an's shoulders dropped with a sigh. The length was six times the length of their mother, head to tail, and twice as far down. He was no where near even half her size. He took a deep breath, and launched himself along the canyon wall. For a moment it seemed he might make the leap, but as gravity began to have its way, and that undeniable force began to drag him straight down D'an realized that he was yet two lengths short. Lessa's eyes went wide and a scream began in her throat. Dhamir clawed to the edge, poised as if perhaps he could leap after his brother, and somehow bring him to safety.
Hihel'khlai felt her heart drop right into that river. As D'an began to drop entirely too short, she was sure, but her child sat clawed to the stone like a spider lost its grip, and he was no where within her reach. In a panic his claws found in the unmerciful stone, a tiny miracle of a ledge--hardly enough to perch upon, and just jagged enough for a child's claws to hold tight too. Desperately, the little child scrambled to the sanctuary of that tiny ledge and his breath refused to come to his body until he was secure.
His mother's face turned wrathful, "Spat Child! Kill us all for fear."
D'an swallowed and after a few tries, managed to stop his limbs from shaking and tear his eyes away from that deep, sheer drop. He gathered his courage, the next jump was little more than two lengths long, short but with a fair drop. He launched himself into his mother's arms, and clung to her. For once, his mother seemed to cling back. She clutched him to her, as if jealous that the stone might have tried to take him. She rubbed his back, the gesture was rough and unpracticed, but she soothed her child until those claws unhooked form her fragile spiderpaw skin and she could set him securely upon the ground.
"Dhamir, you next." Her voice was steady and strong, "Aim for the ledge, and then to me."
Lessa nuzzled her brother, cupping his face in her paws before giving him a kiss on the nose. "Don't worry Dahdah, you'll be fine!" That bright smile could have chased the fear from everything. Dhamir found his ever shaky courage and leaped, but as his claws found the tiny ledge, it gave an ominous crack beneath his weight. He froze in panic, but as the stone held strong, he launched himself to the other side. His mother refused to breathe until he had landed in her arms. She set him down and looked to Lessa, but the child was already in the air, leaping from that solid cliff to the little cracked perch. She landed with all the lightness of a bird, and that wonderful beaming smile that brought all the sun's warmth to their harsh, dark little family. She began to laugh, with those beautiful bright blue eyes. All that bravado, and the gods couldn't have known how terrified she was. Or perhaps it was that the gods couldn't have cared.
In a blink, eternity stretched. An irreversible cracking and crumbling of stone echoed over the walls in an instant as the beautiful child slid down with stone still beneath her paws. Even her smile was denied the chance to flee before she plummeted down.
It wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
No.
Lessa had been right there. She had made the jump. She only had one more hop and she'd be right there beside them.
The child was disappeared, swallowed by the earth and the river by the time her mother rushed to the edge of the stone.
Hihel'khlai screamed. The boys could only run the scene again and again and again in their minds, hoping to understand it as the cliffs reverberated with the howl of their broken mother. It was only one sound, long and rending.
As it came to an end, she breathed as if drowning until she found the will to swallow it all. D'an sat wide eyed, numb with disbelief. Dhamir had begun to cry, a silent flow of tears that contorted his little face with pain.
Hihel'khlai slapped the child hard enough for his head to bounce off the stone wall. "Stop your snivelling," Hihel'khlai's voice turned quiet and dark, knotted with pain, "Or you'll be the next to fall."


"D'an, do you ever think about Lessa?" The smaller adolescent gave a shrug. He didn't wish to remember their sister in detail. Every time he did, all he ever saw was that smile, and those eyes. They'd been blue like the sky, and her smile was the sun. He heard her laughter. How did that hurt more than anything? "...No." He lied, his voice laced with irritation. There was no use in going over it again, but Dhamin never seemed to see the sense in that. "...You ever think that's gonna happen to us?" D'an-net's brow turned hard, his nose wrinkled and his mouth formed an angry scowl. "Just suck it up Dhamin." His eyes hardened as he turned to his brother. Dhamin might have been larger, even stronger, but he never seemed to harden up. "We haven't made it this far by being weak, Dhamin. It's a luxury we don't get." D'an-net's voice turned impatient, but had somehow softened as his pace quickened as his brother lagged behind. "I know, D'an... I just..I can't help it..." D'an-net paused, if only for a moment. "...I know.. But momma said the world won't give time for that. You know it won't." His little voice drifted off. Lessa died, and spring still came, so did summer. The world carried on--it didn't care that someone who hadn't deserved it didn't make it through. "...We have to keep moving. Else we'll end up the same." Dhamin went silent.
It had been six years since they had been chased into the Eastern Canyon cliffs, since lovely little Lessa had disappeared from their world. Their lives were now filled with desert nights, foraging and hunting what little game there was to be found. They had made their home not terribly far from the Karlaf pride's oasis, and for six years they had narrowly eeked out a living. The two adolescent males were entirely comprised of bone and sleek muscle, far thinner than they ever should have been. Now, as D'an's mane began to come in, it made it hard to hunt, and their mother often left him to care for his brother. They had learned to make and set traps, and spent most of their nights checking and setting. Some nights they ate well. Others they went hungry while their mother hunted.

Where had those idiot children gotten to? It was nearly dawn and they were still trouncing about in the sand. They should have been old enough to start taking are of themselves, and here they were still bouncing about the desert near sun-up. Despite herself, and the irritation those children incessantly caused, Hihel'khlai found herself looking for those two naieve idiots. She had shouted their names, checked the places she thought those dim little things to hide, and nothing. That was when she heard the beginnings of the rukus. Roars, yowls and screams that sounded dreadfully familiar made her blood run cold. Despite herself, terror ran through her as she bolted to the source of the sound.

The scene unfolded at the edge of a pitiful excuse for a pond, filled with long stagnant water. Fire whirled all around them, lighting fur and scorching the desert sand in the night. Some large scarred male, none Hihel'khlai had ever seen, was at the heart of the flinging sand and fire. She could see D'an's bright eyes, blazing even against the beginnings of dawn as he bit down on the back of the male's neck--struggling to find purchase through that thick, matted mane. Beneath them. In the scarred maw of some whore's son was Dhamin's throat. D'an must not have known--or perhaps he did. Either way he still fought for his brother as the male dropped the limp body and whirled to now take the bothersome creature on his back. Rage welled up in Hihel'khlai, it boiled in and through and out of her. The adolescent's corpse moved with a quickness, a cleverness it never should have had--one that had never been expected. The strange, scarred male dropped dead in the sands.
Mother said it wasn't Dhamin any more. Just a side effect. It didn't stop the empty body from following them for the rest of the night.

D'an-net crouched low in the dunes, watching in the night, waiting. His fur was caked with mud, but in the desert nights, it was all he could do to camouflage the beginnings of his flickering, firey mane. His mother's voice spilled out into the dark and the sound of hooves sliding in the sand, that compressed crunch, came hurtling his way. D'an-net was poised, but as the beast lit past he nearly missed his chance. The young corelion launched himself into the air, claws extended and grasping for their mark. His grip slipped, and for a panicked moment he feared he would fall beneath the terrified creature, but he found purchase on the beast's shoulders. The sheer force of his mother's impact sent the beast reeling and D'an with it. Their meal went down quickly, briefly struggling beneath the duo before it stilled and went silent. His mother's silence as she settled down to their supper was the best commendation he would get, and the son took it gratefully. Things had changed after that day. Rather than leaving D'an-net to his own devices when she hunted, his mother had begun to teach him. So long as he helped, so long as he earned his piece, she allowed him to eat. They worked in pairs, and never left each others sight--much to the displeasure of them both.
It had been three summers since they had lost Dhamin. D'an still dreamed of his brother. Never the long talks they've had or the times they'd laughed. Just his brother, broken and empty, shambling after them. Something had hardened in him that day, and it hadn't softened since. This world didn't care about them, and so, the young coreleo refused to care for the world. His mother however, she was barely thirty-five but the world seemed to have worn heavily on her. More and more she questioned her decisions, muttered to herself when she should have been resting in the heat of the day. D'an-net would not admit to himself that he had begun to worry.

They settled in to their meal, eating as quickly as they could. The antelope was large, and the scuffle had been all but quiet. Scavengers would soon come looking and the dawn would burn the sands beneath their feet. It was the best meal they'd had in a while. Both D'an and his mother had worn thin, more skin than muscle, more bone than skin. At least it had dulled the glow of his mane. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, and the few creatures of the day began to stir, the mother and son headed toward their den. Their bellies were tight with food, and as the daylight intensified, they couldn't help but be a tad clumsy. The warmth made them sleepy, and their full bellies numbed the mind. His mother never noticed the snake in her path until the creature reared back, and struck at her face. With a lash of flame D'an struck down the beast. Such a pitiful and fragile creature, but so deadly. Panic welled up in the son's heart. Things between him and his mother, they had never been easy. She had always been hard, harsh and cruel when the times provoked, but she had been his mother. She hat clutched him on those days when she thought she might lose him. Through loss after loss it was those two, just him and his mother who clung to one another in the dark of the desert. Life with her might not have been pleasant. Life without her was unfathomable. His mother scrambled, thrashing as if she could throw out the venom burning in her veins. He tried to plead, he tried to beg--she would, or could, hear none of it. His dark face rippled in anger, twisting to the beginnings of a snarl, "Mother."
The tone was new to her ears, the wrath behind it enough to force a pause.
"If you want to writhe in the sands until you burn, then go ahead."
She could have sworn in the heat of the morning that her own voice came from her son's throat, but something shifted. An almost imperceptible change took the wrath out of his voice, leaving only the sheer will and honesty behind, "But if you ******** don't, be still."
The Mother did as her son told, her body trembling as the venom spread. Until now, she had not realized how large the boy had become. It seemed as if only days ago he was small enough for her to hold to her chest. It seemed as if only days ago that he had walked with his brother by his side, with his sister bouncing along. The fight went out of her.

D'an slid beneath his mother as gently as he could manage, streching her arm over his shoulder and the rest of her atop his back. He pushed on to their den, the way was not far. He laid her down as gently as he could before determinedly plodding back into the day. The Karlaf oasis was little more than half a night's journey from their den. If he hurried in the day... Perhaps he could reach them by sundown.

D'an plodded on at a slow, determined pace. His black coat soaked in the sunlight, made him burn down to his core. The sweltering heat left him panting and thirsty. Travel durring the day was death, his mother had always said--but who was she to talk now? Two nights and she would speak no more, unless he could find a healer in time. He knew so little of what healers were capable of, but if they could heal the way he could turn the flames, then they should be able to fix his mother, no? He pushed on. Kept pushing. Keep the pace. Keep the pace. His thoughts began to wander in the desert heat, and for a moment he could have sworn he had heard, he had seen that dreaded corpse shambling after him. No. That was just the desert's tricks. For a moment.. For a moment he saw a cub, with bright blue eyes and a sunny smile. For an instant he could have sworn it was Lessa, but as the little creature darted off, the laughter was unmistakably male. How.. How utterly strange. With a shake of the head he put his mind back to his pace. He couldn't slack off or he would never reach the oasis in time. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander, lest he lose the way and simply be lost in the desert until he too was dead. With a start he stopped so quickly he landed on his rear in the sands. There it was again, this time just before him. How had he missed the strange little cub?
He giggled at D'an, "Where are you going?"
That big sunny smile, those bright blue eyes, but a boy.
D'an looked at the little cub, puzzled. His answer was hesistant, he shouldn't be telling some desert mirage anything. If anyone saw him they'd be sure he was a loon. "I.. I have to find a healer.. for my mother.."
Somehow the words just elicited another chorus of giggles from the little creature. "Seems silly to me, since you're going the wrong way."
D'an frowned, "I head west, to the Karlaf..."
"You are heading East."
With that the little thing was gone.
D'an stood panting in the heat of the desert summer day, how long had it been? It had been noon not long ago, he was certain. He had looked down and watched his shadow slip beneath him. He looked to the sun, only to find its blinding brightness behind him. His eyes went wide as he turned about, and began to lope west. Panic sent another surge of adrenaline and clarity through his mind. How much time had he lost? How far away had he put himself from his goal? To the sand with the slow pace. D'an kept his loping pace, and rushed westward. Gradually his mind began to falter, going in and out even as his body rushed forward. At one moment, he woke, face first in the sands, and in desperation pulled himself up to carry on. He had to keep going. He must keep going. Just keep going. Just a little further. Just until.. Until the world went black and hot.

He woke in the small shelter. It was a meager little shelter, dug deep in the sands and reinforced and lined with stone to keep the heat at bay. The world around him blurred and trembled when he moved, and the young male pawed at his eyes. "Well. It looks like you've finally woken." The old woman's voice was warm, calm. It almost sounded like she was laughing at him. D'an's brow creased in annoyance as he tried to stand on shaky legs. "I don't have time for this... I need to find a healer..." He took a few steps on the cool stone before he stumbled and nearly lost his feet.
The old woman offered no help, merely gave a lighthearted laugh at his efforts, as if he were a cub attempting its first steps. 'You need water is what you need, sidya."
D'an's irritation flared, and he snarled at the old woman. "I need a healer--"
The old woman's walking stick slammed the stone floor, her expression gone from lighthearted. The lady who stood before him now bore a severe countenance, and D'an was rather sure that if he hadn't cut his words short, the next thing that stick slammed would be his hide. "You listen to me boy. You are in my house, and you will do as I say if you ever want hope of getting my help." She waited a moment, glaring into him, but when D'an offered no response, her expression gentled back to that warm smile and she offered him a pitcher. "Now drink. I don't feel like listening to heat-addled words. Then you can explain what you need me for."
The young man did as he was told, drinking deep. The water was cool and sweet, fresher than he had known since he and his family had cleared the East Canyon river. Once he began, it wasn't long before he found that he had drained the pitcher. The old woman took the pitcher from him with frail hands and set it in its place near the door.
"Now, sidya, what is it that you need of old Ra'ann?"
Though he did his best to speak slowly and clearly, he found himself tripping over his words as they all tumbled out--how his mother needed a healer for a snake's bite, how he had gotten lost in the desert and how now, he didn't even know how long it had been. His expression remained like stone, and even though his worry he kept his temper cold.
"Calm, calm child." She patted his shoulder with a smile. There was not much she could do for such a snake bite. Perhaps if she would have been there the moment she had been bitten she could have helped, but with a full day for the venom to set in, and still half a night--at least--before she could be of any help? Old Ra'ann stood, and gathered what herbs she had. Some for pain, others for sleep. D'an watched as she moved about her stores, stuffing this and that into her little pack and slung it over her shoulder. Soon, she was standing at the door, looking back at him rather expectantly. "Well, are you coming?"

They reached the den but a few hours before dawn. D'an found his mother limp, her face swollen almost beyond recognition. She muttered and rambled, half delirious from the effects of the venom. In moments she laughed through her terribly swollen maw, in others, she cried. D'an sat next to his mother's side--comforting her completely alien to him.
The old healer's face twisted with pity for the poor korliyo as she applied what herbs and medicines she had brought. When she finished her work, she motioned to D'an to follow as she moved out of the den. D'an was hesitant to leave, but reluctantly followed. Old Ra'ann's face was drawn, as if pulled taught by a heavy heart. "Child, you must listen to me, and listen quietly."
D'an gave the old woman a hard look. He was fifteen, and unsure how he felt about being called 'child,' but the look the old healer had given him made him suspect that was not the worst thing. He nodded after a guarded moment, and the elder continued.
"...There is nothing I can do for your mother, beyond easing her suffering. The venom.. it is too deep for me to draw it out." She said the words as gently as she could, her tender as her eyes settled heavily on the ground. At first she had thought she might have been able to at least prolong the woman's life. Now, seeing the wound.. There had been more venom delivered than she had seen in a long time, and in such a place... "...She may live a day, but little more."
D'an turned to return to the den, his movements sharp, agitated. He paused at the entrance. "...Dawn will break soon. You can stay the day, if you wish, and I will escort you back tomorrow night." While old Ra'ann would have much preferred to sleep the day in her own cool bed, she agreed, and settled herself down in a cool corner.

D'an returned to his mother's side. Through the day she never slept. First, she was mostly herself. The herbs had left her groggy, and more relaxed than he had ever seen his mother. She told him not to cry. That he wasn't some girl, or some baby. He was her son. He should keep making her proud, and keep his spat together. Then her mind began to wander. She began to apologize for the way she had raised them, for the loss of his brother and his sister. If she would have just been able to keep her powers under wraps, if she simply would have been able to hold back, perhaps they would never have been found in the Almeera's land. As things became more clouded, she began to weep. D'an wrapped his arms around his mother and held her gently.
"So all the world got broke, Shards beneath our feet
But it wasn't our fault,
And everyone's competing, For a love they won't receive
'Cause what this world really wants is release
We live in Cities, The like you'll never see
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run free
Livin in ruins of a grand place within my dreams
But you know, we're on each other's team..."


"D'an-net Vu.." Her voice was weak now, but somehow the pain had left it. "..Where is Lessa? ...And Dhamir?"
D'an heaved a deep sigh, biting the inside of his cheek as he smoothed his mother's hair. "They're commin momma. Don't you worry. They'll be with you soon."
A smile, though faint on her swollen face, creased her bright blue eyes as she looked up at her beautiful boy. Oh, how had he gotten so big? And then her eyes were just beyond him, they were focused on something far away. Her smile widened, but her voice was a weak whisper, little more than a breath. "Oh, there they are..."
There was no family tree at which to bury his mother. His sister lay in the depths of the river. His brother lay wherever the shambling of his corpse had taken him. D'an burned his mother's body by the last light of day


His steps were slow as he escorted the old healer home under the cool of night. His mane had grown longer, but still had much growing in left to do. Still, it provide more than enough light for the trek back to the Karlaf's oasis. They walked much of the way in silence, at least until the old woman reached her door.

D'an turned to head back to his home, but old Ra'ann cut him off mid-step. "And where do you think you're going child?' D'an paused, looking back to the old woman with empty eyes. Her smile was soft, "I do expect payment for my services... And I have this sneaking suspicion that you might just make a proper one." D'an-net Vu looked at the woman with muted skepticism, "But I am a fire-user."
"No matter," Ra'ann smiled. "I'm sure I'll find some use for you."


And so D'an stayed with the old healer. There was nothing left for him in the desert, and no life he could have survived on his own anyhow. The first few months he passed in silence, but eventually he began to open up. It was strange to him at first, living without survival monopolizing every waking moment. He began to learn all he could about anything Ra'ann would teach him, but most of all he loved her stories. Tales about lusher lands and strange places. He spent his days dreaming of the Yonak falls, the Serpent's road, the Lotus. So many things that Ra'ann had painted as beautiful, wondrous and dangerous places. Slowly, D'an began to smile, then laugh. No one other than Ra'ann seemed to want him in their little settlement around the oasis, but he didn't care. He was happy.
There were days when he wondered if his mother had ever learned any of these things. What her life could have been to make her the hard and cruel thing she became. There were days when he found himself thinking of his brother. He begun to think of him, not as the empty corpse, shambling after him in his nightmares, but as the bright, kind brother that he'd never gotten a chance to appreciate. He wished Dhamin could have known Ra'ann, and on darker days, couldn't help but feel like it was Dhamin who deserved to reach this place, not him. He dreamed of what Lessa would have been like if she had ever grown, but even as he wondered and dreamed, he was at peace. He was happy.

The years began to pass faster. Life was still hard, but now it was so much more worth it. Soon his mane began to grow and flourish. Ra'ann seemed more delighted with it than anyone else. "Look at my little fire-butt, growing up all big and strong." D'an-net could do little more than smile. As he grew older, and they grew closer, Ra'ann became the mother he'd never had. As she aged, D'an became the one taking care of her, and he was happy to. Over the course of ten years, her bones turned stiff, and she became touched with shades of silver and white. Her frame lost its leather sturdiness, and curled under her own weight, but she never paled. "That's it, stop your fussing D'an." The old woman chided as her feather light hands pushed his away. "I might be old, but I'm damned well not a cripple." D'an-net couldn't help but smile, and oblige. She seemed more tired than normal of late, but she managed to move about the little den perfectly fine. Shakily, she sat, and those bright green eyes sombered as she watched D'an move about. "D'an," He paused and looked up. In all truth he needed to get down to the oasis, the fish would be moving soon and he wanted to catch enough for a fine supper, but there was a fragility to his Xoxo's voice that rang strange. With a breath, Ra'ann continued. "What will you do when I am gone?" D'an frowned. "Xoxo, you shouldn't be speaking like--"
"I am one hundred and three years old, D'an. I speak like I want." She cut him off in comically exaggerated fashion. D'an couldn't help but smile, and satisfaction gleamed in her mischievous green eyes. Again she sobered. "And today is my birthday, so answer the question."
D'an took a breath. "I don't know... I haven't quite thought about it."
Ra'ann gave a yawn, "You should go and see the world. Get out of this dusty place." She rose on shaky legs and hobbled back to her bed. "...I think I'll take just a wee bit of a nap. Wake me when you come home, will you?"
D'an gave a smile as he slung his pack over his shoulder. "All right, Xoxo. Sleep well."
"Ratumisha, Rizu."
D'an paused, the note of honesty in her voice strange. She had never quite called him that, not so plainly. It had always just been D'an, even when he had accidentally called her Xoxo, and never really stopped. Confusion and worry began to bubble in him.
"Ratumisha, Xoxo." He half forced a smile as he began to leave.
"Yor x'ajam."
"S'hemingu, Xoxo."

When he returned with the fresh fish, larger than he had ever caught before, he was met with bigger smiles and stories of many 'big fish that got away'. There was no more serious talk, only the smell of good food, and the sound of good company. They laughed and celebrated, talking the night away about things that did not and would never matter. They teased and joked and laughed even more. In some way, perhaps both of them already knew that Ra'ann would not wake the next night. But in typical fashion particular to them both, they would let nothing spoil their time with one another.

When D'an tried to wake Ra'ann the next night, and found the light had left her, there was no confusion. No wondering. Just a raw, bleeding wound opened and not even anger to comfort it. He had never realized how much of a comfort it had been to be so angry, to hate rather than feel. But when his Xoxo passed, passed peacefully and ready and content, it left him with nothing but loss, and not a soul or idea to turn to. It wasn't like pain, at least not any he had known. It was missing. It was grasping for that one thing that had always been there, and now it seemed even in his own heart it was gone. He cried more sorely than he had ever in his life, not with a scream or a howl, but a whispering, soft pain. She had taught him everything that was wonderful in the world, and now--with a smile on her face--she was gone. He buried the old healer next with her family.

He lingered at the edge of the oasis for hours, staring. For all the world he felt like the child staring across the river once more, but this time there was no Ra'ann to stare back.
"You should go and see the world. Get out of this dusty place."
The words were like a whisper he knew he hadn't heard.
So many amazing places she had told him about, so many fantastic people... Perhaps he would make his way to the Hurin, or the Dar-vatta.
And so, at the age of twenty-five, D'an-net Vu began his exploration into Rekkdar...
Let's pray his sense of direction has improved. But as the now 25 year old korliyo took the first steps of his adventure, the exiles closed in. Hardly three days after his departure, the exiles rousted the Karlaf from their home. Life with the Karlaf had already told him what would transpire. Ever since he had heard word of the exile, he and Ra'ann had waited for it...