Ixzo’s sudden growl was as unexpected as her change in demeanor. Waves of fear clawed down Kaitanu’s spine to hear it, and in spite of himself he began to tremble. Not in a visible way, unless he wore no clothing. Then the night-lioness would see the way his skin twitched, ever so slightly. In his strange eyes the fear was obvious; they darkened visibly as he watched the woman crouch down as if to pounce. She might be in human form, but Kaitanu had no doubt that she could snap him in half if she pleased. Too late did the full regret of his impulse to help flood the pale man’s brain. Kaitanu knew better! How often had other slaves taken advantage of him for it? Not all, but enough to have made him a bit wiser by now. Except he couldn’t always remember…
Instinct kicked in at last, but only enough to make Kaitanu take a step backward. Almost frantically he thought of his escape without being able to come to any conclusions. Running straight to camp would lead an enemy right into the midst of children and a pregnant woman and livestock. Going some other way and circling back would do no good. His boot crunched in the snow as though Winter itself promised to hamper his retreat. Even if Ixzo couldn’t track his scent she would see his footprints. He could shift and outrun her, perhaps, but there was another problem. His clothing would be ripped to shreds, not to mention he would have to leave behind Dravite’s torc. No slave would dare to destroy or lose their master’s property, even to escape their own death. Dravite was not quite “master”, but the idea of upsetting him in any way was almost unbearable. Kaitanu would have felt like sobbing if he’d been much younger, or still had the ability to cry at all. Out of his dilemma came one weak answer; to fight back. He knew he would lose, but Dravite and Raven had told him to protect himself, and Kaitanu would try to follow what he felt was a command. It was all he could think of.
However, before his hand could even start to move in the direction of his steel dagger, Ixzo was on him. His reactions were so slow to the task of defense that, in spite of his resolution, Kaitanu remained almost as motionless as before, locked in the perpetual state of submissive resignation to his fate. Mind and body were still half-divided by an imposed gulf which would not be bridged in so short a time. Kaitanu stiffened as strong fingers closed around his shoulders; frozen air burned in his lungs at the touch under his chin. His heartbeat had sped up in preparation for…he knew not what. Startled, the pale man found himself not the recipient of violence, or some other violation of his person. Wide eyes, almost blank out of habit, met Ixzo’s as his head was tilted up. If she knew what to look for the lioness would see fear mingled with confusion. One blink, then two- slow as his dawning thoughts. In a slightly lesser vein did he feel once more what he had the night Dravite and Raven taught him to defend himself, then gave him a valuable torc and told him he was Blackwater.
Pride... Kaitanu took in Ixzo’s words without them making much sense at first. The concept of self-esteem was utterly foreign to him- something he didn't know he was supposed to have, and therefore could not feel its lack. Yet, here he was in a new life, or a new way of living. Maybe one day he would come to take that pride in himself that was Ixzo’s unquestioned birthright. Kaitanu couldn’t help wondering, in his vague way, how she must have suffered to have that part of herself sent away or hidden. It had not been beaten out of her. He knew what pride was, just not how it could apply to himself. Was her pride the fiercer for her experience? Had Ixzo escaped because the flame within her could not bear to be stifled? It blazed in her eyes in that distinctive way of all unbroken slaves or former slaves. In his heart of hearts Kaitanu longed to know what such fire was like, and how it could burn so brightly without consuming.
Kaitanu felt the pressure of a hand against his chest, and that harsh voice speaking to him again. Ixzo's eyes were sharp as ever, but his fear was somewhat less now than it had been. Being manhandled was nothing new to him anyway. What was new was being called “brother”. For a moment or two he wondered what Ixzo meant by all that she said. What did the other kelvic want him to understand? After some thought her manner made part of her meaning clear as it could be to him. Between the former slaves there was a certain kinship that she had chosen to claim. The lioness would not hurt the horse. For the moment that was all he could comprehend.
Ever watchful, Kaitanu did not entirely relax. It would take a long time to unravel his tightly-wound nerves and appreciate the full meaning of “safety”. On the other hand, Ixzo would be able to feel his muscles unclench under her palm, which was quite a feat in and of itself. Unseen, the pale kelvic’s thoughts turned away from fear. He was no longer straining against some inner conflict, but giving into curiosity; a strange, new area in his brain, ever-expanding. Ixzo’s entire being was as little known to him as her motivations. Aside from slavery and the kelvic abilities there could hardly be two people less like one another. Who had molded Ixzo into the tall and warlike figure that had an inexplicably soft side? What sort of land, what sort of people, produced someone like her? The word “brother” conjured up indistinct figures in Kaitanu’s mind which bore some resemblance to Ixzo. Having no blood relations (to his knowledge) the pale kelvic wondered if she had, and what they were like, and how she felt being away from them. The lioness didn’t exactly look happy to be here, at any rate.
“Sister…Ixzo,” he was unsure which to call her. “You are ill. I know of roots by the stream which will ease you.” It was in his training to be of service to everyone, but here Kaitanu spoke from another part of himself. Maybe he felt even more a desire to help her because she had called him “brother”. The word filled his chest with the same, strange warmth as when Dravite and Raven had said he was “Blackwater”.
Instinct kicked in at last, but only enough to make Kaitanu take a step backward. Almost frantically he thought of his escape without being able to come to any conclusions. Running straight to camp would lead an enemy right into the midst of children and a pregnant woman and livestock. Going some other way and circling back would do no good. His boot crunched in the snow as though Winter itself promised to hamper his retreat. Even if Ixzo couldn’t track his scent she would see his footprints. He could shift and outrun her, perhaps, but there was another problem. His clothing would be ripped to shreds, not to mention he would have to leave behind Dravite’s torc. No slave would dare to destroy or lose their master’s property, even to escape their own death. Dravite was not quite “master”, but the idea of upsetting him in any way was almost unbearable. Kaitanu would have felt like sobbing if he’d been much younger, or still had the ability to cry at all. Out of his dilemma came one weak answer; to fight back. He knew he would lose, but Dravite and Raven had told him to protect himself, and Kaitanu would try to follow what he felt was a command. It was all he could think of.
However, before his hand could even start to move in the direction of his steel dagger, Ixzo was on him. His reactions were so slow to the task of defense that, in spite of his resolution, Kaitanu remained almost as motionless as before, locked in the perpetual state of submissive resignation to his fate. Mind and body were still half-divided by an imposed gulf which would not be bridged in so short a time. Kaitanu stiffened as strong fingers closed around his shoulders; frozen air burned in his lungs at the touch under his chin. His heartbeat had sped up in preparation for…he knew not what. Startled, the pale man found himself not the recipient of violence, or some other violation of his person. Wide eyes, almost blank out of habit, met Ixzo’s as his head was tilted up. If she knew what to look for the lioness would see fear mingled with confusion. One blink, then two- slow as his dawning thoughts. In a slightly lesser vein did he feel once more what he had the night Dravite and Raven taught him to defend himself, then gave him a valuable torc and told him he was Blackwater.
Pride... Kaitanu took in Ixzo’s words without them making much sense at first. The concept of self-esteem was utterly foreign to him- something he didn't know he was supposed to have, and therefore could not feel its lack. Yet, here he was in a new life, or a new way of living. Maybe one day he would come to take that pride in himself that was Ixzo’s unquestioned birthright. Kaitanu couldn’t help wondering, in his vague way, how she must have suffered to have that part of herself sent away or hidden. It had not been beaten out of her. He knew what pride was, just not how it could apply to himself. Was her pride the fiercer for her experience? Had Ixzo escaped because the flame within her could not bear to be stifled? It blazed in her eyes in that distinctive way of all unbroken slaves or former slaves. In his heart of hearts Kaitanu longed to know what such fire was like, and how it could burn so brightly without consuming.
Kaitanu felt the pressure of a hand against his chest, and that harsh voice speaking to him again. Ixzo's eyes were sharp as ever, but his fear was somewhat less now than it had been. Being manhandled was nothing new to him anyway. What was new was being called “brother”. For a moment or two he wondered what Ixzo meant by all that she said. What did the other kelvic want him to understand? After some thought her manner made part of her meaning clear as it could be to him. Between the former slaves there was a certain kinship that she had chosen to claim. The lioness would not hurt the horse. For the moment that was all he could comprehend.
Ever watchful, Kaitanu did not entirely relax. It would take a long time to unravel his tightly-wound nerves and appreciate the full meaning of “safety”. On the other hand, Ixzo would be able to feel his muscles unclench under her palm, which was quite a feat in and of itself. Unseen, the pale kelvic’s thoughts turned away from fear. He was no longer straining against some inner conflict, but giving into curiosity; a strange, new area in his brain, ever-expanding. Ixzo’s entire being was as little known to him as her motivations. Aside from slavery and the kelvic abilities there could hardly be two people less like one another. Who had molded Ixzo into the tall and warlike figure that had an inexplicably soft side? What sort of land, what sort of people, produced someone like her? The word “brother” conjured up indistinct figures in Kaitanu’s mind which bore some resemblance to Ixzo. Having no blood relations (to his knowledge) the pale kelvic wondered if she had, and what they were like, and how she felt being away from them. The lioness didn’t exactly look happy to be here, at any rate.
“Sister…Ixzo,” he was unsure which to call her. “You are ill. I know of roots by the stream which will ease you.” It was in his training to be of service to everyone, but here Kaitanu spoke from another part of himself. Maybe he felt even more a desire to help her because she had called him “brother”. The word filled his chest with the same, strange warmth as when Dravite and Raven had said he was “Blackwater”.
Ixzo has given Kai a lot to think about.
