The Desert Beauty & the Forest Beast (Basah'ir)

[Bartal]

His sleeve wiggled violently and he turned quickly, about to snarl in the face of the intruder. But it died on his lips, turning into a garbled grunt as he saw that it was only Basha'ir. His expression relaxed a few degrees, but brimstone still burned in his eyes and he tasted blood in his mouth. He's bitten his cheek without realizing. It had been easy to get his attention only because he was coiled as tightly as a rope. He hadn't really paid attention to what she said though. Bartal glanced at Nondi, propped on her surrogate mother's hip. Her little face was puckered with fear, and deep down he knew it was toward him. For some reason he could feel a hot burning in his eyes, the feeling humans got when tears were welling. But they didn't fall. He was too hardened for that. Yet they had formed. The redness of his eyes was an indication of that. For a moment the drunks were completely forgotten. "Sorry," he whispered to the child, lifting a hand as if to touch her, but then thought better of it. Again he looked at Basha'ir, her own face registering fear just like the child. He repeated his apology, ashamed of himself for some reason. But why should he feel ashamed? It was only natural for him to defend himself. They don't know what I am, he rationalized sadly. If they knew he was a bear, surely they would understand? Or they would fear him further. There wasn't much sympathy for bears. Too many rumors and assumptions. The fresh scar he had gained earlier in the summer from an arrow was all too much proof of that. Bartal stood erect and leered down the street, finally seeing the approaching guards. What was left of the onlookers from the previous entertainment were now scattering, not wanting to be associated with the current mess. The drunks had stopped momentarily in their approach, trying to gather their wits and consider what to do next. Stay and fight, then be arrested, or run? Bartal was thinking the same thing, but he chose the safest path. Run. "Come," he said shortly, grabbing Basha'ir's small hand. His fist enveloped hers past the wrist, making it impossible to break free if she'd wanted to. It was for her own safety. If she was repulsed by him now, then once he got her and Nondi out of the area he would return to the forest. Bad things seemed to happen when he stayed in the city for too long. This was Exhibit A. Bartal half drug her from the street and down an alley. It branched and he took a random direction, then burst out into another street. He trudged along, his long legs eating up the distance quickly. Not once did he looked back to check on the two he was leading. He could feel the hand in his; knew they were there. A thought floated up in his mind as he walked, taking another side street at random. Her fingers were soft and warm, a stark contrast from his heavily calloused palms. He liked the feel of her skin, and wondered if the rest of her was just as soft. It probably was. Finally he stopped and let go of her hand, if a little reluctantly. Down the street he could see the main gates, beckoning him to the trees. But he turned his back to the exit for a moment to face Basha'ir. He didn't say anything, merely waited for her to speak. Absently he wondered what had become of those drunks. They probably hadn't even noticed he was gone yet, they were so inebriated by their brandy and wine.

[Basha'ir]

The look on Bartal’s face was unlike any that she had ever seen, and she had seen some extremely vicious looking men before. She had witnessed murder right before her very eyes, and had been the cause of it. But even that type of violence and animosity had been different from this. What she saw in his eyes, what she heard coming from his throat, it was so…bestial. Basha’ir felt Nondi cringe, pressing her little body more into Basha’ir’s side, and in the next moment, she saw that Bartal himself had seen the child’s reaction to his ferocity, and her own.

On the heels of his apologies, she murmured, “Don’t. There’s no need…” But then his eyes lifted to above and beyond her, and Basha’ir too heard the running approach of armored men. She had no time to repeat her entreaty for him to come away, though, for Bartal himself grabbed her hand and with one short command, they were walking swiftly, away from the corner where the aborted entertainment had taken place. She followed a half pace behind him, what choice did she have? His hand was huge and dwarfed hers, and his grip was firm, though not crunching. With his long stride and her much shorter one, Basha’ir had to do a type of hop-step and the little girl tightened her grip about her surrogate mother’s neck in response to the swift jostling bounce. None of the three of them spoke, but of course, as soon as Bartal’s hand touched hers, Basha’ir was fully aware of what his intention was, what he desired to accomplish, what he wanted to do. She felt the fresh breeze on her face, and smelled the pine and the moldering leaf litter. Her ears filled with the silence of the mountains, and the rush of the wind, and the chirping of birds in the forest canopy. She felt his longing, to return, to his home. He wanted its safety. He wanted its comfort, and its familiarity. He wanted its solitude.

There were other impressions that Basha’ir felt as they walked hurriedly along the street. A den. The feel of pine needles under soft feet. Cold night air brushing against fur and a wet nose. A pet? A dog? Did Bartal have an animal companion out there…? But then, it hit her and with a shock she realized that those yearnings, those sensations, were all entirely his own. She looked up in amazement as they marched along. He had an animal form, a big, strong beast of the forest. Bartal was kelvic, and his other form was…a bear!

Now his reaction to the drunks seemed much more reasonable, and a bit less scary. Of course, a big bear was a frightening thing, or so she assumed. She had never seen one in person. And that was probably a good thing. She wondered if…but here again, her sense of what he was thinking, what he was feeling, in terms of what he most wanted, changed. She knew that he was thinking of…her. Her hand, her skin, the rest of her….It wasn’t anywhere nearly as distinct a thought as his longing for his mountain home was. But it was there, underlying that primary desire, if only in an embryonic state.

Suddenly, Bartal came to a halt, and dropped her hand, breaking off their contact. They were very close to the gates to the city, to the path that would lead him home. He didn’t say anything, though, nor did he simply walk away. The kelvic had turned to her and was looking intently at her, and she could still see the tumult of his mind reflected in his eyes, even if she could not feel it directly any longer. He was delaying his departure, because of her. Basha’ir returned his direct gaze with her own softer one, and she realized that it would make her quite sad to know that she might never encounter him again. It was a feeling that came from her heart, and not his, she knew.

Careful not to touch his skin, she placed her hand on his forearm sleeve. She had been so very circumspect, about her mark, not wishing men to try to take her captive again, for the value of it. But as she looked at Bartal, she thought that she was seeing a very different kind of man in front of her at this moment. She felt, right or wrong, that here was a being that she could trust, one not swayed so much by earthly possessions or a desire to own another. Certainly, in his ursine form, Bartal no doubt sought to control others of his kind, for access to food, territory, a mate. But holding another soul captive, hiding her away to hoard her, like some cursed treasure, no, she didn’t see him being that way. Was it naïve to think that he was more…honorable than that?

She smiled. “Oh, I’m so glad that you didn’t get hurt, or arrested. Thank you, for bringing us to safety.” Her dark green eyes went to the massive gates down the way. “I guess you want to be getting home. To your mountains.” Her gaze came back to him. “I know,” she said, her voice very quiet. “I know….what you are, Bartal. I’m not scared, not any more. Do you…will you ever come back, into the city?”

[Bartal]

She wasn't angry with him. Bartal was surprised how much that relieved him. The tension practically melted from his body with her words. And yet, it rushed back to him as quickly as a bow string being pulled when she said she knew what he was. How was that possible? He hadn't told her. It wasn't exactly a closely guarded secret, he wasn't ashamed in the least of what he was. But he knew that people tended to overreact, and so he didn't brandish the fact that he was a bear like a crimson flag for all to see. "How?" he asked in a near whisper, his eyes boring into hers. And then he remembered her other question. "I won't let this keep me away. I'll wait a few days, maybe a week, before I come back. Those men were as drunk as all get out, I doubt the guards will be surprised with the situation they were in. When they don't find me for the next few days, I assume they'll quit looking. I only broke the man's finger and gave them a little scare." A smile actually split his face as he said that, remembering the look on the man's expression when his finger snapped like a minuscule twig under Bartal's paw. Then he was brought back down to earth by the current situation. Again he asked, "How did you know?" He was glad she didn't fear him, and he could tell she didn't. He would have been able to smell it on her. For a split second he had the burning desire to take her hand again and lead her and the child into the forest; his vast domain. The urge was so sudden and strong that his body swayed toward her. He was so lonely. The flood gates of that fact had been opened now, thanks to this woman and her cub. When Bartal went back to his forest, alone, it would mark the beginning of a new stage of his life. Until he had a companion again, someone to protect and provide for, he would go through each day with growing restlessness. Ever since this evening Rosemary's death had weighed like a boulder on his shoulders, making him unable to move on. But something had been unlocked now. A key turned in a long unopened chest. And in that chest lay the instinct of his kind, the instinct he had been fighting violently all these years, which was to seek companionship. It was almost overwhelming now, having stopped the long battle against himself. So many emotions were swirling inside him, fighting like a pair of starving wolves over a scrap of meat. Relief, grief, overpowering longing, desire. "Where and when can I meet you again?" he said, a new sense of urgency and determination about him. The emotion was clear in his dark eyes, roiling like fire. His gaze then turned to Nondi, and he touched her little ankle gently. "And you. I wish to see you again too." Bartal's eyes lingered before turning back to Basha'ir. He licked his dry lips, not realizing his tongue had gone gommy from stress and anxiety.

[Basha'ir]

She paused before finally answering. "I am Ranuri marked by Nikali. When you touched my hand, I, I saw, inside you. I knew, how you longed to go back, to the forest."

Her dark green eyes lifted to his. "I would like to see you again, Bartal. That would be nice." She paused, and awkwardly withdrew a slip of paper from her pouch at her belt. "Here is where I live. When you return, come by in the evening. Sometimes I am out, as I was tonight. But more often I am home." She smiled somewhat shyly. "I'm sure Nondi would like to see you too."

The child, with all the excitement, and the late hour, was already looking drowsy. But she too gave the kelvic a sleepy smile and waved good bye.

"Be safe, Bartal," Basha'ir said, with a gently pat to his arm. "And come back soon."

[Bartal]

Bartal took the paper and held it tightly in his first as if it might disappear. The hope of companionship was so overwhelming now he could hardly bear it. He hadn't felt this way in years. It was amazing once he realized what he'd been missing, finally letting go and allowing that long locked up instinct finally loose was so freeing. He smiled at them both, and the warmth of it made him appear years younger. "I will find you both in a week," he said then felt the need to add, "Wait for me." As soon as she patted his arm he turned and jogged away. The guards at the gate barely gave him a glance. Someone leaving was not as important as one entering. If they had been allowed inside in the first place they must have been approved and deemed harmless enough. As he entered the shadow of the darkening forest, feeling the decaying leaves under his feet, he inhaled the familiar scent. Bartal found his den with ease. That path had been traveled continuously over the years and he knew it like the back of his hand. Once inside his own home he carefully stripped his clothes and packed them away into the single pack he owned and went about the rest of the night trying to wear himself out enough to fall asleep. He was so restless that it took him bells. True to his word, a week later he would return to the city. He couldn't read Basha'ir's note, he asked around for directions, showing them the paper so they would point him the way. Once he reached her home he knocked on the door, a smile already on her face. No one answered, so he knocked again and waited a while. Again there was no reply, so Bartal sat in front of the door, assuming she would return later. Bells drug on and eventually a seed of worry was planted inside his mind. A woman was entering a doorway directly across from where he sat and he called out, "Excuse me? Where is the woman who lives here?" She looked at him curiously before replying, "She's gone. Her and the little girl both. Been gone for days now." The look on Bartal's face must have spoke louder than words, because she frowned uncertainly and apologized before quickly shutting the door behind her, as if she couldn't look at him. It felt as if the arrow that had shot him earlier in the summer was no sticking out of his chest. He stood and banged on the door with renewed haste, then shoved his weight against the wood and jiggled the knob. It was locked up tight. Only a faint trace of Basha'ir and Nondi's scent remained on the door. Tears brimmed in his eyes and he rested his forehead against the door, savoring the scent. He would never forget their scent now, he would make sure of that. Bartal knew by the look on that woman's face that they weren't coming back. What had happened? Why had they disappeared without trying to tell him somehow? Surely they wouldn't do that. The hot tears burned his eyes and ran down his cheeks, leaving thick salty tracks. His chest was painfully tight as he punched the door and snarled, then threw another punch that bloodied his knuckles. Too many foul memories now shrouded this city for him. There could be no way that he would ever be happy again. Not here. Somewhere else maybe. For a moment he was horrified. Did he just consider leaving? He had never left. Ever. But then he remembered Rosemary, now dead. Then Basha'ir and Nondi; missing. Yes, leaving sounded good. That was what he would do.

[Chevalier]

Bartal

LORE

• Difficulties of Being Small
• Heartbreak, Again

EXPERIENCE

Skill	XP Earned
Rhetoric	2
Observation	2
Brawling	2
Intimidation	1
Running	1
Tracking	1

Storyteller Notes

Secret :

Sadness. Perhaps Basha will come back to us one day. Mizahar will wait for her. Most of the points should make sense, observation is there for utilizing his senses, especially smell, and tracking is for picking out the presence or past presence of individuals by scent.