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Chapter Text

Jeremy paused next to his father on the hiking trail, breath coming fast in his throat from the steady march upwards as he leaned on his walking stick, fingers clenching and unclenching around the smooth wood.

"What?" he asked, glancing up at his father's stiff form, body held still in the grey mist of the morning. The mountains were moist and cool, the sun still playing in the eddies of the horizon, leaving the sky pale and empty, clouds having lowered themselves in the night. A few distant ridges and peaks jutted out from the white sea, blue and hazy. It was a sight that Jeremy was used to, coming out here every year to camp, but it never dulled or faded with time. It was the most secret collection of things, the last magic of the deep south that no telephone or sidewalk could take away.

His dad remained silent, that look to him whenever he spotted an interesting animal or plant, but he didn't point, didn't eagerly begin explaining in that biology teacher way, voice hushed and excited.

Jeremy took a couple steps up the ridge, hiking boots clinging to the grit of the stone, and angled himself to follow his father's line of sight.

It didn't take but a minute to spot what he was looking at.

It was a cat, huge and utterly unlike any mountain lion or cougar. Easy twice the size of one, and all muscle under velvet fur, dark brown coat with even darker markings over its back and forepaws. It had a mane around its neck, not as thick as an African lion's, but impressive nonetheless, and a frill of hair that ran up its neck and onto its forehead. It's tail, long and graceful, was twitching back and forth, and...it was watching them.

It was almost two hundred yards out, separated from them by a deep gully, but Jeremy couldn't mistake those bright green eyes focused on them -- not with the wondering unintelligence of a mindless beast, but the calm assurance of a sentient being, looking them over with only a cursory curiosity.

"Oh my god..." Jeremy whispered, wonder and fear thrilling through him at the same time. He knew what this was, of course, how could he not -- but even with so many summers of camping or hiking the Appalachian Trail under his belt, he'd never seen one before. An ailure. A panther with the ability to change its shape to that of a man -- or a man with the ability to change his shape to that of a panther, depending on who you asked.

In school he'd learned about the Blue Ridge Pride, the cougars that lived in the mountains, and it was certainly an element that had heavily played into the stories told around campfires at night when he was a kid -- stories of giant cats slinking through the brush, stealing away wayward campers with nary a sound, or beautiful girls who would lure people off the trail, into the darkness, where only her glowing eyes remained.

For all that, though, Jeremy had never seen one before, not with his own eyes, and he didn't know what to do, what he should do. Fear and fascination warred in him, and sure, he wasn't a kid anymore, he knew that the ailure didn't hunt humans, unless you listened to the crazies with their conspiracy theories. All the same though, as far away as it was, Jeremy could see how the creature could tear them to pieces, and not much to it. A few great bounds and it could close the distance like it was nothing, and no amount of stick waving would scare it off. It was no witless cougar, scared off by prey that put up a fight.

It was some three hundred pounds of muscle and bone and teeth, claws hooked like talons, and even still as it was, it stood with the grace of thousands of years, the intelligence of a man set in the body of a predator. In the wan light of morning, it owned the mountains as easily as it stood upon them, blue light scattered over its coat, thin trails of moisture drifting by it like smoke, like something glanced in the distant past.

Then, as if it weighed nothing at all, it slipped off its rock and vanished into the mist, the flick of its tail the last thing Jeremy saw, and he began to breath again, heart beating with the mountains and the sun peaking over the ridge, spilling orange deep into the crags and gullies, breaking that last spell of the night.

It was a story he'd tell his grandchildren.

-----

Jensen felt the jagged edges of the stones under his paws, padding down through the murky morning towards the Nantahala, slipping easily under the low branches of the pine trees. The weather was warming towards summer already, and with the warmth came the masses -- humans trekking along the Trail or rafting down the river, setting up their tents deep into the forest. It wasn't something that worried Jensen. For hundreds of years his pride had coexisted peacefully, with few problems. Every so often he would have to field a "representative" or two who came out to talk about development and the like. For the most part though, summer merely meant that they'd have to move deeper into the forest to hunt.

It was unlikely to happen, but Jensen didn't like to risk a camper being mistaken for a deer.

'Campers already?' Alona's voice broke his musing, her long body laying out over a strong tree branch. He glanced up at her, coming to a stop.

'Hikers,' he replied, licking his chops absently. He'd found a tasty squirrel for breakfast that morning.

'Seems like earlier every year.' The female ailure made her way down the tree, jumping from branch to branch and finally landing on the ground with a soft 'whump.'

'That's only because you're getting older, little sister.' Jensen bore no blood relation to Alona, but that didn't change their relationship. He'd been nearly twenty when she was born, and it was hard to deny that the outgoing little kitten had wormed her way into his affections. As if to prove it, she sauntered up, purring and butting her head up under his chin, an overly familiar move for someone to greet their alpha, but Jensen just winced his eyes in pleasure, enjoying the contact.

He paused to groom the side of her face before setting off again, trotting back towards pride grounds, Alona bounding ahead with all the enthusiasm of youth.

It was an exciting time of year for their pride -- the winter had thawed early, the fertiles going into their heats earlier than usual. It wouldn't be long now until the first of the birthings would begin, and soon after that the pride would be crawling in cubs. It was something that everyone looked forward to, whether or not they would be parents, and Jensen had always enjoyed watching the youngsters take their first unsteady steps, even more so once he became alpha, proudly watching his pride grow.

This year, though, was different.

For the first time in his thirty five years, he would be welcoming in cubs of his own.

After such a long wait, it had become clear that he wasn't destined to find a mate. It was something that saddened him still, from time to time, but he'd accepted it, taking it in stride with all the burdens of managing his pride. He told himself he would be content to consider the pride his family, watching other families grow and expand and taking what he could in knowing that it was his care and devotion that allowed them to do so.

That was, until Cosette had approached him.

An older ailure, she would be going into her last heat this year. She'd never mated, nor expressed any desire for children. She was a hunter, a warrior, and Jensen had been surprised by her offer -- to bear him young, since he had chosen to remain mateless, like her. He hadn't bothered to correct her. It wasn't a choice, like it had been for her, confident and strong in herself and having no need for another to stand by her side.

He wished, in a way, it could have been that. That he could claim to be as self destined as she. Instead, it was merely that Jensen had never found that bond, the feeling of being wound up in another. He had admitted to himself that he was probably over romanticizing -- that he'd fallen too deep into the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a kitten, about what it was like to find your mate, your other half. To hunt, to kill, to live and survive and raise young together, a part of each other.

He'd passed up chances -- fertiles that had cared for him, and he them, fertiles he could have easily mated with, now that he was older and looking back on it. But those chances were gone, mated to others and happy, and Jensen couldn't begrudge them.

It was his own fault for holding out too long.

Cosette wasn't his mate, or even a close friend. He respected her, and she'd always been a supporter of his, but they were by no means close or bonded. He'd been surprised by her offer, and, at first, turned her down. After while though, he'd come to the realization that he didn't have to have a mate to have children of his own.

Perhaps he'd never find his other half, but he could still have a family -- carry on his mother's proud line.

-----

"Come on," Jensen urged softly, holding Genevieve's head in his hands, her cheek resting on his lap. He rubbed a hand through her fur, thumb pressing lightly to her jaw. She crooned in pain, tired and weakening.

It was a big litter, especially for her first, and Jensen and a few of the others milled around in their human shapes to help, trying to ease her discomfort.

"It's almost over..." he started, then winced when she bit his hand and gave him a look. "...yeah, okay, fair enough."

He'd told her it was 'almost over' three kittens ago.

An hour later, though, her body finally went lax, eight blind and deaf kittens nursing quietly at her teats, her paws tiredly kneading at the air. Jensen stroked her neck, tried to calm her, while her mate, Katie, sniffed at the little ones before raising her head to butt it with Gen's. The fertile barely responded, healthy but exhausted, and more than ready to let everyone else take on the burdens of the day.

"Alpha," Misha's voice broke through the quiet, and Jensen glanced back over his shoulder at his beta. "Clayton went into labor."

Jensen let out a long breath, then looked down at Genevieve on his lap, then up at Katie.

"You got this?" he asked, not liking to leave a first time mother so quickly.

'We'll be fine, alpha,' Katie assured, moving around to lay down behind Genevieve, pillowing her head on her mate's neck as Jensen gently set the mother's head on the ground. He stood up, stretching his arms up high, wincing when he felt(and heard) several bones in his back creak and crack.

With a sigh he let his arms drop, following Misha out of the cabin and out onto pride ground, bare feet moving easily over the harsh stone, just as callused and strong as his paws.

It was going to be a long day.

-----

By the end of May they had welcomed four new litters, a healthy set that would make sure his pride was busy with hunting, bringing home kills to feed all those hungry mouths. For the first six months of their lives, at least, the kittens would be feeding exclusively from their mothers.

Cosette, though, was still heavy with child, and it was beginning to worry Jensen. He didn't want the older werecat straining herself for his sake, and while there was a vet over in Bryson City that they used in emergencies, Jensen didn't like the idea of driving her down into town. It was always a bit of a production, and while he didn't begrudge the humans their curiosity, he knew he would be extra protective of a pregnant fertile. Fertiles were tender by nature, even if Cosette was less so than others. It raised the protective instinct that Jensen held. He hoped that they could avoid the stress and he waited to see which way things would go.

When she finally did go into labor, though, Jensen's relief was short lived.

After hours of pain and effort, one after the other, the older ailure pushed out six cubs. One after the other, silent, still little bodies that wouldn't respond no matter how many times they were licked or prodded towards heavy teats. Jensen tried to hold it back, tried to be strong -- he was alpha here, and more than just a father to this litter. His pride needed him, needed his strength, and Cosette had done this for him, was grieving because of him, working and straining her body, hours of torture only to deliver stillborn cub after cub.

'I'm sorry,' she said, when it was over, her voice worn, even in his head. 'It is...it is because I was too old. Too--'

"Don't," he interrupted, unable to listen to her take any blame for this. He pressed a hand to her cheek, rubbing through her whiskers. "Don't. It's not your fault. You didn't...you didn't do anything wrong. You sacrificed for me, and I'll always be grateful for that..."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling other members of the pride padding around them, moving in to comfort and support, rough tongues gliding over sweat slicked fur, doing all they could to help.

"Let me--" Jensen started, feeling like a puppet, like he wasn't really in his body. "I'll--"

He couldn't finish his sentence, but he could pick up each lifeless body, moving them away from Cosette, away from her guilty eyes. He wished he could do more.

He wasn't sure what to do with them, at first, or if there was something else he was supposed to be doing. From the back of the room he watched the others curl around Cosette, keeping her grounded in their family. Jensen just stood there, awkward and apart, back against the wall, one dead cub held loosely in his hand, the others laid out on a towel at his feet. They were still wet, and smelled of amniotic fluid and blood, that fresh born scent.

Jensen had never before identified it with anything but joy and life. Now the scent was too thick, cloying in the cramped space. He was watching his pride like they were strangers, something distant from him, something he couldn't be a part of, and the scent was hedging in around him, sticking to his skin.

He needed to leave.

He bundled the towel up too quick, feeling nausea cramp in his stomach at the way the bodies rolled and moved, afterbirth wet in the fibers under his hands. He tried to pause, to talk to Cosette, but he didn't even know where to begin, but when he came too close with them she shook her head, her pain coming through too clear, too bright in his head, and he stumbled back.

He didn't really know what he was doing, only that he had to get them away, get them out of here. Every minute with them was a reminder of that much failure. To his cubs, to his pride, and to the fertile who'd borne the burden for his sake.

He found a picnic basket in their shed -- one of the many left by campers or hikers that traveled through the pride hunting grounds. It was lined with soft fabric, bright red plaid, and it seemed...it seemed like something. Something better than the wet, grey bodies that he lowered into it, and he hoped that the bright colors would do something for them, as they moved on to the Great Pride, into the care of Saul'hrao -- an alpha who wouldn't fail them like Jensen had.

His hands didn't shake when he shut the picnic basket, didn't shake when he tipped the tiny wicker latch shut. He was steady as he stood, tucking the handle of the basket into the crook of his elbow, sure-footedly finding his way through pride ground, passing each small cabin and the occasional curious face.

He didn't say anything when Alona jogged over to him with a smile on her lips, asking him questions he didn't hear. He didn't stop when her smile fell to worry, her mouth forming his name. She drifted off behind him, like mist, like something not real. Like this was all a dream that would never come to pass.

Until he was at the bank of the river, loud and babbling through a calm section, wide and deep blue, cutting its way through the mountains. Cutting like a knife, and the unreality of the world lifted, and Jensen was just holding a basket of his dead children.

He knew, even then, what a disservice he was doing to them, throwing them away like trash, but he couldn't stomach the thought of putting them down in the Pale Gulch, letting their tiny bones mix in with those of the pride that had passed before, an eternal reminder. He couldn't stomach the thought of them being part of the pride at all, because if they weren't part of the pride, if they'd never been, then he had never lost them.

For a moment, just one, he shuddered, crouching down, and it was foolish, foolish, because it wasn't as if he knew them. They'd never even opened their eyes. He'd never named them or talked to them, they didn't have personalities or thoughts or any personhood for him to miss. He took a long breath, lungs expanding. It wasn't possible to miss someone he'd never had.

Then he made the mistake of glancing at the basket.

The temptation to flick the latch back and pull out each body, cradle it to his chest, was so overwhelming strong for a moment that he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe through the pain, knuckles white tight clenched around the wicker, making it quiver and crackle in protest.

He angrily thrust the basket out into the river, pushed it out with enough force to propel it away from himself, into the current, eyes still tight shut. He just needed to get it away from himself. Far enough away and take everything else with it, everything he couldn't deal with, down the river and deep into the heart of Ansaul'inlan, where the sun never sets.

Jensen's body was frozen for a second, arms still outstretched, and it was only when he could drag another breath into his lungs that he managed to open his eyes and look up. Further down the river, being carried by the current, the basket was floating on the water, nothing in the world to suggest what it carried or where.

They were never his. There had never been a moment when they'd been his.

He felt the urge to cry, to toss his head back and scream into the mountains, let it echo off every crag and jagged edge, let every human and ailure for miles hear his grief. But he didn't. He didn't make a sound, getting to his feet, the temptation there and too easy. He was used to denying it though.

That was what he was. What it meant to be 'alpha.'

He felt the pull of responsibility towards his pride, and it was something of a relief to turn towards it, concentrate on that instead of anything else. He glanced at the river one last time before leaving, but the forest offered him nothing in return for what he'd given up.

Chapter Text

The first time Jared heard the noise, he was hunting a rabbit.

Crouched low in the underbrush, his paws were silent on the mostly dissolved detritus, wide hazel eyes focused intently on the movements of his prey as it picked its way casually through the grass. It paused, ears flicking up, and it stood on its back legs, searching its surroundings and Jared went stock still, even his usually irresponsible tail freezing.

For a long moment, nothing happened, and Jared barely breathed, before the rabbit lowered itself, going back to its grazing. Jared's muscles bunched, his whole body beginning to quiver with the beginnings of a pounce when a tiny sound broke the still, and the rabbit's ears shot forward.

The sound came again, something like a squeak, and Jared made the mistake of turning his head to look and--... He sighed, the rabbit having caught his motion, and he was stuck watching it flee, kicking up the remains of last years leaves. With a huff of disappointment, the werecat pushed himself up from his crouch, padding casually through the clearing.

He'd been looking forward to that rabbit, too.

He sniffed the area the rabbit had been eating, picking up the scent of its droppings, and the dander left by the shedding of its winter coat. No doubt it lived nearby, but Jared wasn't putting a lot of hope in catching it now. Probably off warning all its little woodland friends(Jared assumed that's how it worked), and he'd be stuck with an empty stomach, unless something turned up in his haphazard traps.

Distantly the voice of his irritating Boy Scout troop leader came back to him, talking about how important survival skills were while Jared had rolled his eyes like a little punk.

'Bet you'd be laughing your ass off now, Joe...'

He was brought up short when he heard the sound again, his ears flicking straight up to try and catch it. The tip of his tail twitched, and then the noise came again, and Jared figured that, if he wasn't going to get lunch, he might as well find out what it was that had denied him his meal.

Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but Jared wasn't certain if his instinct to go poking his nose into things was something he could blame on his species. He seemed to be a natural at getting himself into trouble all on his own.

The sound was coming from down by the river, and Jared was surprised he'd even heard it. Not a hundred and fifty yards downstream some particularly noisy rapids started, and whatever it was making the squeaks wasn't that loud.

Jared trotted easily over the ground, pausing only when he got to the embankment. He jumped from ledge to ledge, descending to the river's level without too much difficulty. He preened slightly at the bottom -- two years ago he'd have been flat on his face at the bottom. He couldn't linger in his pride, though, because the quiet mewls were continuous here, one fading into the next one, and Jared found them more than just distracting. For all their faintness the noises were having some strange effect on him, each creaky whine aching in his belly. The sound made him feel inexplicably sad.

He slunk low, ears going down as he crept through the undergrowth. Time and effort had taught him to be wary, to wait. His memory was anything but fuzzy when it came to his first few months in the forest, back when he was seventeen. He remembered investigating noises in a den, only to be rewarded with a jaw full of porcupine quills. His mouth had been so swollen that he'd barely eaten for weeks. He remembered finding out which plants he could eat, when in his human form, and which ones would cause him to be sick for days.

He remembered the patience it took to hunt, to learn how to be still, and how long it took before he brought something down by himself. It was impossible to forget that kind of hunger, so long and deep that it felt like it was something living inside of him, so desperate that at times all he could do was lay beside his campfire and cry like a child. He'd learned his lesson well: the forest didn't have a lot of forgiveness for mistakes, and as curious as he was now, he didn't plan to let it get the better of him.

When he finally broke through the cover he saw the river, wide and frothy. The water was climbing over rocks as it moved towards the rapids, but whatever was making the sound wasn't that far out. It was in some kind of wicker basket, floating in an eddy on the edge of the river. Jared paused in surprise, blinking widely, his slit eyes focusing on the object, and for a moment, he didn't move.

Then there was a particularly loud cry from the basket, and before he could even think he had leapt down to the river's edge, padding through the mud gingerly. He stretched his neck out, sniffing at the basket. Mostly, he just smelled the river, wet and fetid, the combination of a thousand rotting corpses and plants, all flowing down river to bring new life. But just under that he could smell something else, something soft and small, something that made him whine, low in his throat, without conscious command. He jerked his head back, surprised at himself.

On the one hand, the way the noise was affecting was just making him more curious, but on the other, he didn't like the way it was as if he were under something's thrall, as if whatever was in that basket was controlling him. Whatever it was, it was dangerous.

He shifted into his human form, feeling mud squelch between his toes as he cautiously reached out, scoffing at how he was afraid of a picnic basket, and flipped the latch holding it shut. He paused, then in one quick motion he threw the lid back.

What he saw inside was nothing like he would have predicted.

Jared peered in and saw several small bodies -- kittens -- pressed into the padding of the basket. They were dark grey and brown, damp with river water and...something else, and Jared recoiled, feeling shock run through him.

He almost stumbled away from the basket, almost dashed back to the cover of the underbrush when his eyes tracked the slightest movement and he paused.

A second later, one of the bodies shifted, moved, its barely open mouth parting to let out that high pitched mewl, like a suckerpunch straight to Jared's gut.

"Christ," he muttered, breathless.

The kitten was weakly moving its still webbed paws against the unmoving bodies of its siblings, and Jared felt cold horror skitter through him. It was a terrible sight. Something Jared never wanted to look at. He licked his lips and got his legs under himself, pulling the floating blanket closer, until it lodged securely in the mud, and he carefully reached in, all too aware of how huge his hands were in comparison to the kitten. He wriggled his fingers down under its body, gently lifting it up.

Jesus, it was cold. There was no body heat, and even as it moved, it still felt dead, like a living corpse. Cold through and through.

"Hey...hey, it's okay, little guy," he murmured, the kitten crying out again, and Jared pressed it up against his chest, right over his heart, where there was the most heat. He rubbed its loose skin tenderly, trying to get its blood pumping. At the feel of a warm body the kitten seemed to come to life, struggling and crying more, making Jared wince, some weird instinct lancing through his body, and he cupped his palm over the wiggling baby in his hands.

"Just...hold on a sec." He paused to re-maneuver things, shifting one hand away to grasp the handle of the basket and pulled it out of the mud and on to the bank. He couldn't take any chances, needing to be sure as he touched each body, making certain. The other five were stiff with rigor, long past dead, and Jared felt a sick grief, but didn't have time to dwell on it.

He'd come back and bury the bodies, once he was sure the one survivor was going to be okay.

-----

His first instinct was to make his way into town and buy some kitten formula, but there were a lot of problems with that plan.

The first being that he had no car, and the walk took a whole day, and the second being that he didn't have money.

'That's what you get for living in the woods like a crazy mountain man,' he mentally chastised himself, but then amended: 'Crazy mountain cat.'

He assuaged his worry with the knowledge that food wasn't what the kitten needed right now. It was probably dehydrated, and until Jared warmed it up, there was no way it would be about to digest the food. The added stress could kill it.

That didn't get rid of the food problem, but, at least put it on back burner.

He took the kitten back to his camp site, quickly setting up a fire, and spent the evening wrapped up with the tiny body, sharing his body heat, laying close to the fire. He didn't let himself sleep any deeper than a doze, too worried of rolling over and crushing the helpless thing.

It was still blind, eyes sealed over, its body covered in only a thin sheen of baby fur, its legs flaily and ineffective. Jared didn't know what the story was behind the basket of kittens, but he knew enough to gather that they'd been taken straight from their mother's womb.

He also wasn't an idiot -- as tiny as the cub was, it wasn't anything as small as a domestic cat kitten would be. It was newborn, but still at least the size of a grapefruit. This was either the cub of a mountain lion or the cub of a werecat, and given that the Blue Ridge Pride lived upstream of him...Well. Jared was willing to bet money.

And that meant a lot of things. A lot of things that Jared didn't really want to look at right now.

In the morning he half expected to find that the little one had passed in the night, and he couldn't help but smile when he touched its chest, felt it rise and fall -- more than that, felt that it was warm. He got up carefully, bundling the kitten in the blankets while he got dressed, moving out the edge of his campsite with a small trowel and digging five little graves. He brought the basket back from the river and tenderly removed each corpse, laying one in each of the graves and covering them with loose dirt, gently patting it down, the least he could do.

After that, though, he had a dilemma.

He needed food for the kitten, but he didn't really want to leave the kitten alone while he went into town. He could get there faster in his cat form, but that also meant arriving naked. Then there was the whole money issue. He did have some, but it wasn't a lot, and probably not enough for kitten formula.

Eventually, the problem not getting any better with time, he packed some clothes and whatever cash he had, hoping to throw himself on the generosity of the people in town(and, if he had to, their curiosity, even though he really hated that idea; eyes all over him, dehumanizing and inconsiderate, maybe even hands reaching out like he were a pet, as if he weren't a living, thinking being). He shifted quickly into a cat, the process swift and painless, nothing like the frustrating trials of his younger years, and moved to nose his pack onto his back when he felt something...strange.

It felt like something was tugging on the skin of his stomach, like loose skin. He glances down between his forelegs, but all he could make out was more fur. He had to lay down and look over his shoulder to finally discover the problem, only to regret the discovery altogether.

He'd never been exactly wild on the whole 'eight nipples' thing, but his brothers had had the same thing, so it was something that Jared had mostly ignored, up until this point. They were, after all, vestigial, just like the two he had in his human form.

Only, apparently not, because somewhere between hearing the cries of a hungry kitten and waking up, his body had decided that they weren't vestigial. Not even a little bit.

He would have liked to say that it was something humorous or weird, something that he'd laugh about later, thinking back on it, but it wasn't. Mostly, it was just emasculating, something that brought back bad memories and an age old shame, gut deep. Jared pushed himself quickly to his feet, pacing away from the campsite with a need for space, a need to move.

It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, feeling his body rolling away without him, doing things he'd never asked it to do. It wasn't like being on a runaway train. It was like being trapped, hedged in by a body that seemed unconcerned with what gender it was, or what the mind inside of it wanted.

It didn't matter though, in the end. After a little while the cub woke up and began to call and squeak, and as much as Jared shut his eyes against it, every instinct in his traitorous body wanted to go to it, give it the warmth and shelter and food it required.

He paced for a little while, back and forth in front of the mess of blankets, watching the newborn wriggle ineffectually, attempting to crawl around and Jared knew exactly what it was looking for.

He couldn't say he was proud of himself when he denied the kitten for almost two hours, wandering far enough away that he couldn't hear its cries, desperate to deny everything that was happening to him. Again.

But as messed up as he felt, he knew he'd be even more messed up to starve a baby to death just to preserve his masculinity. With a snarl of frustration he eventually headed back to his camp, feeling guilt swoop in at the cub's plaintive cries, hungry and pathetic. Jared made his way over and stepped gingerly onto the blankets, feeling flush, as if there were eyes in the forest watching him.

'Get over yourself, Padalecki. There's no one else here, and the dying kitten is still blind, you ass.' He swallowed hard, then settled himself down, laying mostly on his side, but with his head up and forelegs out in front of him. He stretched his neck out, parting his jaws to carefully lift the cub, listening to it squeak and mewl in surprise before depositing it in the lee of his belly.

For a second the two just lay where they were, at an impasse.

'Aw, c'mon...Just... You know. Do your thing. I'll look over this way, you'll look over that way, and we can both pretend it never happened, and then tomorrow everything will be fine and normal and not lactating.' Except the kitten didn't seem to want to accept his clearly superior logic, floundering around on shaky muscles and, eventually, managing to turn itself right the way around away from the food.

'It's like you want to die. Just. Augh. Okay, c'mere little dude.' He leaned in, finally, and began to nose at the tiny creature, shifting it around and guiding it, step by careful step, to where the fur grew thin on Jared's belly, teats pressing outwards.

Teats. Christ.

Jared was at least somewhat mollified when the kitten seemed to get the right idea, nuzzling in through the sparse fur until it could find a nipple, then it seemed to go from errantly curious to downright deadly, Jared wincing as its tiny mouth latched on, basically chewing on him.

Jared groaned, a discontented sound, putting his head down on the ground and shutting his eyes, trying to ignore the...everything.

After awhile the pain seemed to lessen, or at least numb, and Jared was surprised to see that he was kneading with his paws, stretching them slowly out in front of him and then flexing, dragging pine needles and bits of leaves back to himself. He eventually talked himself into looking back over his shoulder, seeing the one tiny cub working determinedly at feeding itself, little paws pressed against Jared's skin.

'At least my freaky body is good for something,' he murmured to no one at all, shifting to lay down properly against the blankets underneath him.

He comforted himself with that knowledge, trying to deny the rush of warmth through his chest when the cub, exhausted and full, fell asleep curled up against Jared's skin.

Chapter Text

Some fifty feet above the rushing Nantahala was the perfect spot.

The clay reddened rock extended up from the river into a cliff face, each little crag and cut tripping into the next, leading straight up to where the cliff ended in an outcropping. The flat ground was clear of trees, providing an open view of the river, and, conversely the river a clear view of anyone who wandered out to the edge of the cliff. The rapids of the river crashed steadily along, around the bend of the mountain, and every raft and kayak that went down the river could clearly see the outcropping, and the ailure who tended to frequent it, even if they should have been paying more attention to the river in front of them.

Which was why it was the perfect spot.

Today, fifteen young ailure were lounging and rough housing, rocks being sent flying as they batted and fought, claws scraping over rock as they came dangerously close to the edge.

'Look! Look...Here it comes...' Aaron said, leaning over the edge of the drop off, his tail twitching eagerly. Below them, a raft full of humans were gasping and pointing upwards, dragging out cameras to get a picture as their boat veered slightly off course. The guide seemed to be trying to get their attention back, but it was too late. The raft buffeted over a rock, sending all six humans spilling into the river, bobbing up on their orange life vests as the guide went after their boat. 'Score!'

Several others chuffed and laughed, peering over the cliff's edge to watch the humans paddle towards their empty boat, the sun bright and sky clear with June.

Spring had eventually given way to summer, thick and hot and deep, cooled only by the mists flowing off the mountains and days spent swimming in the cold river, ailure letting their coats soak or swimming after each other in the deep calms. Tourist season was in full swing now, and every year the ailure who were fully grown but not yet of mating age came out to this spot, performing antics to distract the humans, watching them take unexpected spills into the river as they attempted to snap photos of the mysterious and elusive ailuranthropes.

It wasn't something that the pride elders were exactly wild about, and multiple times the kids had been told not to go over to the cliff side, but teenagers were teenagers, whether they were cats or humans.

Alona, though, was less amused this year than previous.

Normally she loved summer. The hunting was good, deer plentiful and the forests teaming with life. The fields would open up and she could spread her legs, racing across the open ground chasing some hare or other varmint just for the fun of it. With the pride's storehouses well stocked it meant there was also a lot more free time, time to sun herself over open rocks or climb the tallest tree she could find, scratching her claws through the bark for the pure pleasure of it. There were also the humans, out in their rafts or hiking up along the trail, and she, Louis and Peter used to make a game of seeing who could creep closest without being caught, ears perked to listen in to the humans conversations about a world outside the mountains.

Normally, Alona loved the summer.

But this year came with a heavier silence, something too weighty and like the depressive hush of winter for her liking. Every pride in the world was attentive to their alpha, lead and informed by their alpha, and it wasn't uncommon for prides as a group to take after their alpha in personality. The alpha was the center and life's blood of a pride, and it was impossible to ignore the changes in Jensen this year.

'Alona, catch!' Cole yelled, except Alona wasn't paying any attention, lost in her own thoughts. Instead of catching the stick the younger ailure tossed, it flew through the air to smack into her head.

'Ow!' she growled, getting to her feet and rubbing the side of her face with one wrist, lifting her head to give Cole a dirty look, curling back her lips and hissing. 'Idiot!'

'Aw, c'mon...' Cole whined as his tail and ears dropped, the other kids unable to contain their laughter, one of them rolling around in the red dirt, paws lolling. 'I didn't mean to. You were supposed to catch it! To distract the next raft...'

'You're all so immature,' Alona huffed, shaking out her coat as she turned to pace away, back into the treeline, hearing their guffaws receding behind her.

It was possible that her father was right. She was out growing this.

It wasn't a speech she enjoyed hearing, especially now that it was coming with more frequency. She was fully grown this year, long and graceful, and she couldn't say she wasn't proud of how she'd grown, but in all likelihood next year would bring her first heat -- and if not, definitely the year after that. It wasn't something she was looking forward to. Leaving behind her youth, becoming attached, becoming a parent.

She could still choose to deny her heats. To wander off alone for a few weeks to let it pass, to never take on a mate, but she wasn't sure she wanted that, either.

Mostly, she didn't want to have to make the decision. Life was easier just being a cub, someone with no responsibilities on their back.

She wandered down the side of a ravine and jumped down the other side, landing with a whuff of air. She straightened and headed into pride ground, weaving easily through trees memorized in her youth.

There was, of course, the other good reason why those her age avoided pride ground this time of year: the damned place was crawling with babies.

Alona jumped back when a cub tumbled across her path, swiftly followed by three of his siblings, each other them letting out their own tiny battle roar. She lifted one paw disdainfully and stepped past, tail swishing in irritation.

It was almost two months since the pregnant fertiles had given birth, and by now the cubs had not only opened their eyes but had begun walking and running, meaning that they were given almost free rein on pride ground, dashing around and play fighting and generally making a nuisance. You wouldn't know it, though, from the looks on the faces of the other adults, all the members of the pride looking out for the little ones equally, soft and warm every time some cub made a mess or ran into something or demanded attention.

One cub trotted up to her, stretching up to sniff noses, and Alona gave him a little nudge, watching the youngster spill over and roll onto his back, baring his chubby belly. She huffed a laugh, stepping over the kitten.

Alona had to admit...they had their charm. She still wasn't certain she wanted a batch of her own though.

She moved up through pride ground, lazily made her way around tree trunks and the errant cabin, ailure in both cat and human forms moving through the business of the day, the hot, North Carolina sun beating down on them. At the top of the hill that their pride lived on was the main house -- less of a house in structure, though, and more of a meeting space. Traditionally, it was where the alpha lived, with the best view to watch over and protect the pride.

Two months ago, Alona would never have headed there to find Jensen. Ailure tended to prefer being outdoors to in, and that was even more true of an alpha than any other in the pride. Jensen was a wanderer -- an ailure given to fits of wanderlust, traveling over their wide hunting ground for days at a time if the compulsion took him. He knew the mountains too well to ever give them up. Except for now.

She didn't remember the first time she'd met Jensen, far too young and probably still blind and deaf when he'd first bumped noses with her, but she'd certainly known him all her life. She'd grown up gnawing on his tail and chasing after his paws. He hadn't been alpha then, just a hunter, and while everyone had whispered about his potential, Alona hadn't ever thought of him as alpha until one day he was, a sudden surprise, something she'd never expected. He was so quiet, so withdrawn unless knocked out of his shell, and too laid back to be an alpha. The alpha before him, the only one Alona had ever known besides Jensen, had been firm and forthright, a grizzled old captain of the guard that had stalked pride ground with a wary watchfulness. A good alpha, to be sure, but not someone that was particularly cuddly, and having grown up sleeping in Jensen's shadow, Alona couldn't imagine him as anything but.

He'd been alpha for almost eight years now, though. She'd grown into the idea, slowly, as uncomfortable as it had been at first. It had taken her a long time to see that the comfort he gave her was the comfort of an alpha -- someone who took responsibility, who guarded all others before himself. Someone who held control not to abuse or for a sense of ego, but to give peace to those around them.

Which was why everything now was so very wrong.

The sunning rock at the top of the hill was unoccupied, but Alona saw that a long way off. It didn't surprise her. Once, it had been Jensen's self appointed station if he happened to be on pride ground -- the point where he could lay down to sun but still see all of pride ground below him, watch over all of them. It hadn't seen much of him, recently.

She jogged passed and pushed into the main house, but a quick sweep turned up nothing. She shifted into human form and stretched, as unashamed of her nudity like this as she was of it as a cat. She grabbed a robe hanging up on the wall and tied it loosely around herself, though none would object to her going without. There was a small kitchen at the back, and she paused to pull out some salted meat, chewing on it absently as she sniffed around for Jensen's scent.

She hadn't said much, yet. Tried to get him to talk, sure, but a part of her had believed he just needed time to mourn. Time to get over this. The only problem was that he didn't seem to be mourning or getting over anything. Two months had passed, and instead of recovering, Jensen just seemed to be getting worse. She wasn't sure if it was her place to butt in, but the twisting worry in her gut was only getting worse with each passing day. Even Cosette, as broken up about everything as she'd been, was beginning to go out again, leaning on the rest of the pride for support and recovery.

Their alpha though, who they needed like blood, needed like air, was no where to be found.

Certain that the house was empty, Alona wandered out the back door, glancing around the side of the house that faced into the woods, and sighed when she saw the long stretch of Jensen's fur, dark brown in the summer light.

"There you are..." she murmured, walking towards him. There wasn't much between the house and the treeline. Just a small stretch of rock and little else. It was an area that had never been intended for use.

Yet here was where Jensen had picked to sun himself -- an activity that was social in nature, something that ailure did together, tails twitching and paws flexing, soaking in Saul'hrao's light in the safety of their surroundings, the safety of their pride.

Here, by the treeline, there was no safety.

Not that a cat the size of Jensen had much to worry about, but still. It was the principal of the thing.

"What're you doing all the way back here?" she asked as she approached, and reined in the temptation to poke him with her foot. Their relationship had changed since he became alpha. It had been awkward for awhile, but even though he was a friend and companion of her youth, it was still wrong for her to treat her alpha with outright disrespect. The pride put up with her being overly familiar, but even she felt the jolt of wrong in her whenever her automatic response was to shove him or pounce on his tail.

The larger ailure raised his head, blinking in the sunlight as he took her in. He rolled over onto his stomach, pushing his hind legs up and stretching his forelegs out, mouth smacking open in a wide yawn. The fur going down his spine bristled with the stretch, and Alona sat down against the gritty stone.

Jensen shook himself out, shook the cat off of himself and leaving only skin behind. He glanced at her, then moved around to sit as well, one leg propped up and an arm balancing on his knee. Over by the edge of the house, three kittens gathered, having wandered a bit too far. Alona glanced at them, their curious eyes blinking and watching her and Jensen before they got distracted with each other, putting out squeaky little snarls as they rolled around ungainfully, chewing on each other's ears.

"What's up?" Jensen asked, casual but voice uninflected. Alona's gaze flicked back to him, but he wasn't looking at her. His voice didn't hold any real interest.

"You're avoiding the pride, Jensen," she began without preamble, needing to do this but also wanting it to be over with. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be having this conversation, and she didn't want to admit it, but she was a little afraid that he'd just shut her down. "You're avoiding the pride and you're clearly not okay. Everyone's worried."

"It's not their place to worry," Jensen replied too quick, too stiff. "It's my job to look after them, not the other way around."

"Yeah? How're you supposed to look after anyone hiding out back here?" It felt harsh, and Alona wanted to be the shoulder to cry on, but Jensen wasn't about to cry on anyone. That was the problem. "Jensen, just--"

"It's none of your business," he snapped, looking over at her, and Alona wished he wanted to avoid her gaze. She wished that he'd duck his head or at least feel some shame for the hate coursing through him, because she couldn't stand having him look at her like she didn't matter. "You don't lead our pride and it's time you learned your place. You're not a cub anymore, and it's not my place to coddle you. You shouldn't act so familiar."

Alona swallowed hard past the ball in her throat, almost shrinking back for a moment because this was the person she'd looked up to her whole life. It felt wrong, somehow, to yell at him, even if he needed it. He'd been there for her every time something went wrong, every time she'd ever needed someone to be there. She couldn't run out on him now.

"I'm so sorry, alpha. Should I beg and scrape? Is that what you want? You can't expect us to all fall at your feet with gratitude when you're not even doing your job."

"You know nothing of my job," Jensen growled.

"I know that things aren't right." Alona wished her voice wouldn't go high like that, so desperate and pitched. She wished she could sound like the adult she didn't feel like. She wanted her alpha. She needed him back. She reached out to him hesitantly. "It's been two months, Jensen, and it's like you're not even here anymore. We miss you. We need you. Please--"

She cut off when he leaned in suddenly, sniffing around her.

"Are you going through your first heat? Is that what this is?" he asked, and his voice was too harsh. She felt hurt jump through her. "I'm flattered, really, but go lift your tail for someone else. I'm not interested."

She shrank back, hands curling into fists when the shock of his words, hard and hurtful, left tears in her eyes.

"Alpha," she murmured, stuck in disbelief that Jensen would ever treat her like that. That he would treat any fertile like that.

He stared at her, long and hard, and she swallowed, tempted to scramble back but her body frozen under the gaze of her leader, the instinctive reaction of an animal in front of one more dominant. Then, slowly, his expression shifted, eyes widening a little, creases evening out in something like shock, and his mouth opened.

One of the cubs, too adventurous in his exploring, had wandered over while they talked. Alona didn't see it, at first, too caught by the cruelty of Jensen's words, and he'd never been cruel to her before. Sure, they'd fought, and sure, he'd been a jerk sometimes, but nothing like this. Something that made her feel dirty and low. She didn't see the kitten wriggle in preparation, but she jumped when it pounced, a tumble of fur and paws, little claws scoring the side of Jensen's thigh in play.

Jensen whirled, the moment breaking, and he smacked the kitten away with his hand, lips lifting up to bare teeth, tongue curling as he hissed in anger. The cub went rolling back, scrambling to get its paws beneath itself as it and its siblings began to bound away in fear. Alona felt herself shrink back from his anger instinctively, flinching when he got to his feet, turning her face away.

He stared at her, she knew that, even if she was looking down at the ground, afraid to meet his eyes. She'd never thought about it before -- nothing so formal -- but it wasn't Jensen at her back now. It was a dominant, a hunter, and to look in his eyes would be a challenge. She would be asking for a fight, and for the first time, she was afraid of him.

"Leave me alone," he said finally, voice too firm, too steady. She wished she could hear it shake, hear some kind of hesitancy or uncertainty. Anything but the too-far-gone coldness. "That's an order."

There was the scrape of feet against stone, and she heard him pad away, heard the back door to the house open and close, but it wasn't until later that she felt like she could breath again.

And even then, it wasn't with any sense of relief.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Jared was aware of was a couple dozen tiny, razor sharp, needle teeth digging into his ear, over and over again.

'GAH!' He jerked his head up, sleep dissolving quickly into daylight as he twisted away from whatever it was that was attempting to eat him. Of course, it wasn't much of a mystery, once he managed to shake off the haze of deep sleep and get a grip on his surroundings. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up getting gnawed on.

He shook his head, rubbing a paw across his nose, his ear throbbing with every heartbeat.

When Jared begrudgingly opened his weary eyes, he was met with the expected sight of Tristan sitting on the floor of their tent, gazing up at him expectantly. Jared let out a long breath, and Tristan scooted back, rear end wiggling in excitement as he chirped.

'Aren't you bright eyed and bushy tailed,' Jared drawled, and Tristan chirped again in agreement, bouncing down into a crouch, his tail going back and forth twitchily. Jared just huffed and shook his head, the kitten having far too much energy for so early in the morning, especially when Jared had to spend the night out hunting.

The way he lived had changed pretty dramatically over the last couple of months, working a whole new person into his life. At first, it hadn't been too tough. Just a little bit awkward. After all, Tristan had been tiny. Helpless. He was blind and deaf and when he did move, it was a pretty pathetic crawl. Most days all the kitten wanted to do was eat sleep and poop(and boy did he), and Jared could easily zip up the tent, leaving the cub in safety while he went to go hunt.

Which, hunting was more interesting in and of itself. He had to take down enough to feed both himself and Tristan now, which meant he had to catch something every day, even if it was small, and his now full teats didn't exactly make running and pouncing grand fun. It was easy to see why cats in the wild had mates for this. As it was, Jared suffered through, taking down whatever small prey he could get his paws on, but he couldn't help but notice how much thinner he'd gotten, as the weeks progressed.

Still, even if he couldn't help but notice it, he could still at least ignore it.

As for the nursing itself, he did, eventually, get used to it.

Yes, it was uncomfortable, and awkward, and that old sick feeling never quite went away, but he adjusted, and it sank into the background. Besides all of that, he couldn't deny that his body seemed to get an age old sense of contentment from feeding the kitten, like it was fulfilling a role it had been meant for. The thought wasn't a pleasant one, wasn't one that Jared enjoyed, but he tried to take some comfort in it. In the end, Tristan needed him. Was smaller and more helpless than Jared, and it distracted him from his own problems.

Because even with all the crap weighing on his mind these days, he hadn't been sent down a river in a basket with his dead siblings.

And Jared had considered other options, at first. He'd considered going up to the Blue Ridge Pride, or even into town with the kitten, but nothing ever quite panned out, despite all his planning. After all, he'd avoided the local pride for a reason, and going up there just seemed like a bad idea all around. At the same time though, it wasn't like he could just take a werecat cub down to Bryson and give him over to some humans. They wouldn't have the first idea what to do with him. Jared didn't think himself particularly experienced, but he already knew the failures of living as a human. Giving Tristan over to them would just be Jared's childhood all over again, and he couldn't stand the thought of being the person to start that.

With no where to go and nothing else to do, and with his body determined to provide the life giving milk that Tristan so needed, it seemed like he didn't have much of a choice. He'd decided to keep the kitten. It wasn't a permanent solution, of course. The cub had been too small and weak to travel anywhere, and Jared had the ability to help. He was just making the only moral choice. Once a better option opened up, Jared would take that.

After all, it wasn't as if the kitten would stay there forever. It was just stasis, until Jared could figure something else out.

Once he came to that conclusion, it had just become a matter of figuring things out.

Thankfully, even though babies didn't come with instruction manuals, it turned out they were fairly straight forward. Tristan would cry when he was hungry, letting Jared know to shift and bare his belly, the weak little cub crawling in close and suckling until he fell asleep, usually with his mouth still loosely wrapped around a nipple. He'd go to the bathroom whenever and wherever he pleased, and Jared so wasn't cleaning that up the "natural way", so he used rags to mop up any mess made.

For the first month, Tristan's needs pretty much came down to that. He'd curl up to sleep against Jared, and Jared eventually gave in to instinct, shifting his head to curl his long tongue over the kitten's body, rough hairs on its surface smoothing out that baby fur, a sleepy warmth building in him, a protectiveness over that one tiny little body, so very dependant on him.

Someone in the world with a life even more fucked up and needy than Jared's.

By the end of the second month, though, things weren't so simple. Tristan's eyes had opened a few weeks ago, slow and winking as the flesh slowly split, eventually revealing those too-big baby eyes, eerily blue, though Jared knew that would fade with time. His fur began to thicken, his coat coming in whorled and fluffy, and his muscles strengthened until he could actually stand up by himself. Unfortunately, his little teeth were also coming in strong, which meant that nursing sensations recently meant a lot more biting and a lot less suckling. Jared could still tell that the kitten wasn't ready for solid food yet, though, so it wasn't really something he could do anything about.

Also unfortunate was the fact that with development came more freedom, and it wasn't as easy to just zip the tent up and leave Tristan for a few hours at a time.

Sure, the kitten didn't have hands and had the collective intelligence of a mole rat, but that didn't stop him from barrelling around the tent, scratching and biting and just generally making a huge mess. One day Jared had returned from an unsuccessful hunt to find that Tristan had somehow manage to flip the tent over completely, apparently using it as some kind of giant hamster ball. After that, Jared had taken to making sure the munchkin was settled and asleep for the night before heading out. It meant that Jared only got a few hours sleep a night, but at least when he came home his campsite didn't look like a whirling dervish had spun through.

It was becoming more evident, with each passing day, that Tristan wasn't so little and helpless anymore, and that Jared needed to make some kind of decision. The time for that 'better option' was fast approaching, and if it had already arrived...well, Jared just put it off until tomorrow. Even if he decided to put it off until tomorrow everyday.

And just like every morning for the past couple of weeks, Jared woke up to being pounced on, bitten, scratched, or just generally assaulted by an overly rambunctious kitten.

'Remind me again why I saved your life...?' he groused, managing to stretch his paws out and yawn before Tristan padded around to his stomach, nosing in enthusiastically, and Jared jumped a little when he felt the eager nips of a hungry cub. 'Christ, ow, calm down, dude...'

Jared thwumped down on his side in defeat, letting out a long breath as he relaxed into their morning ritual, feeling the rhythmic pressure of Tristan's paws kneading against his teat, pushing the warm milk out into his mouth.

No, it still didn't feel great, but Jared couldn't say he hated it. Not anymore.

A few minutes later found him steadily purring, twisting his head around to bathe his cub while Tristan nursed, patiently smoothing down the cub's unruly fur with his tongue. Jared winced a little when the bathing made Tristan's kneading a little more enthusiastic, but he didn't stop. By the time Tristan was full, a little lump with a distended belly, purring thickly, Jared felt vaguely awake. He knew that the post-nursing stupor only lasted so long.

He shifted into his human form on a breath, reaching one large hand down to gently rub the kitten's loose fur before pushing himself up onto his feet, unzipping the tent and stepping out into the daylight. He stretched his long arms up over his head, groaning as he yawned. Padding around the campsite, scratching the back of his neck, he took stock. He'd managed to dig down after a mole last night, but his ravenous appetite hadn't left much to him in the morning. The minute he'd hauled the varmint up, his jaws had worked frantically to tear it apart, gnashing through muscle and bone, eating both, and leaving nothing but a hind leg to eat in the morning. A hind leg that he'd ended up consuming on the way back to camp. His stomach groaned piteously, and he ran a hand over it. It was smooth and taut, a little hollowed out, and when he traced his palm upwards, he could feel the gentle curve of his lowest ribs.

It was getting harder to get up in the mornings, wearied out and sleepy, his body constantly running on empty, but he felt a surge of irrational pride, a sense that everything was okay with the world even when it was so clearly not, when he watched Tristan toddle out of the tent, fat and perfect, his middle round like a baseball. If things kind of sucked for Jared, they at least sucked for a good reason.

"Hey, little man," he greeted, and the werecub looked up at him, pre-verbal and unable to talk in any way, but still possessing that spark of intelligence. Tristan looked similar to a regular cougar cub, but even if it weren't for the extra long tail that signaled his status as a werecat, and the small frill on his neck and forehead, Jared would know just from the way Tristan watched him, always trying to figure things out. His insatiable curiosity. There was that light of sentience, self-awareness, in his gaze. The mark of a thinking creature. So Jared made sure to talk to him a lot.

"So, what're we doing today?" he asked.

It was surprisingly easy to hold a conversation with someone who couldn't talk back. Jared had always had a bit of a motor mouth, and he was charming enough that no one had ever really tried to convince him to stop, but he was at least used to a conversation going both ways. With Tristan, though, it was just Jared's voice echoing through the clearing. Jared didn't know when werecubs went through their first shift, but unless he was doing something wrong(which was a disquieting and distinct possibility), it wasn't yet, because Tristan had remained a little fuzz ball for the entirety of his stay with Jared.

All the same, he knew Tristan understood him. Or, at least, somewhat. Like any two month old, he didn't seem to really grasp concepts, but when Tristan had managed to sneak away one day, down to the danger of the rushing river, Jared's panicked yell had managed to stop the cub mid-step into the powerful water. Sure, when Jared tried to explain the danger of walking into a fast flowing river Tristan just tilted his head to the side, but he at least seemed to understand frantic-wordless-mom-yell, which was enough in Jared's books.

The morning signalled the beginning of Tristan's play time, exploring his way around the clearing as if something had changed, sniffing at all the things he'd sniffed a hundred times before, and jumping back whenever he tried to sniff Jared's cooking pot, convinced in some way that it was alive. Once the sniff inspection was over, it was on to leaf chasing, the cub pouncing on this leaf or that one, completely arbitrarily it seemed, kicking up substrate and then chasing after whatever was kicked up. The only important part of the game appeared to be the need to run rapidly from one end of the clearing to another, often times tripping over his own paws to get there.

Jared managed to nap during the morning, his usual ritual. He never slipped past a doze, listening to Tristan's endless leaf pouncing, but even that was welcome. Jared's mind wandered hazily through dreams, two story houses and smoke drifting lazily out of chimneys, memories of a different kind of winter, one without tents and cold and the fear of the night. Every couple of minutes his eyes would blink open, and the world would come in fuzzy, reassuring him that he was still there, and that Tristan was safe, and then he would drift again, mind slinking away to an awkward hush, drowned out by the white noise of the river.

His stomach began to cramp, but it wasn't that which woke up.

It was the steady pass of a rough tongue on his nose, making him wrinkle it as he tried to blink the film off of his eyes. When his vision managed to steady, wobbly with sleep deprivation, he saw Tristan's big nose in front of his face, followed by his big eyes(that had settled from their intense baby blue to a deeper sea green as the weeks had gone on), and the kitten made a sound like 'marp!'

Jared huffed.

"Alright, I'll give you that," he said, rolling over onto his stomach, pulling his arms under himself to push his shoulders up. "You're pretty cute."

He lifted a hand to rub the top of Tristan's head, watching the kitten bat at his arm uselessly, and Jared chuckled. The sound died out though, when he felt something strange -- something both new and yet familiar -- shift and tickle at the edge of his consciousness that he hadn't felt in two years, and never from this source.

It wasn't a word, really. It wasn't a word because Tristan didn't know the word yet, but he knew the concept; knew it innately. It was a burst of thought and color, the very center of an idea of a thing, something so fundamental that it couldn't be mistaken. It didn't have the hidden meanings of a word, didn't have a history, or a context. It had no connotation or ability to be misunderstood. It was more basic than that. It just was.

It sparkled across whatever mythical connection werecats seemed to have with one another, and Jared heard it. Or felt it.

'Mother,' the thought whispered, and Jared sucked in a breath.

"Oh shit."

There was no doubt about it. Jared couldn't just wait for a better option to present itself. He couldn't ignore the problem until tomorrow.

His cub was growing up, and if Jared waited any longer, he'd never be able to give him up.

-----

Two days later the campsite was as cleaned up and packed away as it was going to get, Jared securing the folded up tent in a tree for when he returned. His things were either buried or tied down, protected from animals and the elements until he got back. He packed up whatever clothes he could fit into his pack, an activity that burned in his memory, all too familiar as his hands stuffed the fabric in. The only pack he'd been able to find that he could slip onto his body as a cat, searching through the meager selection of bags in Walmart that night. It was a little worn now, a little more beat up, but it still functioned.

He didn't think of the campsite as home, really. It was the place he came back to, the place he rested and ate in, and sure, it was the only real place he'd been in the last two years, the only place he could conceivably call home, but he had never really thought of it like that.

Not, at least, until he was standing there, ready to leave.

His hazel eyes drifted over the clearing, its floor of multicolored leaves and bowery ceiling of branches and verdant green. The fire pit was a dark spot in the center, filled in but still obvious, and how many meals had he cooked for himself there? How many nights spent shivering and warming his hands, or when his supply of matches had finally run out and he'd had to learn how to use the flint and tinder, long fingers shaking after several long hours, marks scored into the meat of his palm by unsuccessful attempts? The trees, old and thick, had borne testament to his time here, so long in his own memory, but for them just the blink of an eye. The shift of a branch in the wind.

There was a possibility he wouldn't be coming back here.

There was no way to predict how the Blue Ridge Pride would receive him. All he'd ever heard about wild werecats was that they were more cat than man, feral creatures that reacted with violent instinct. He'd never considered the option of going to them before -- not until now, with a kitten at his feet and him no worthy parent.

He wondered what life would be like for Tristan there, if he'd grow up as vicious and wild as the others, or if he'd remember, distantly, his wet nurse. In the end though, even feral, Tristan would still be free. He'd have a chance, and Jared, as much as he hated to admit it, loved the cub enough to want that for him. Growing up with a human-raised headcase like Jared wasn't what Tristan deserved, and leaving him to humans would just turn him into as much of a headcase as Jared was.

There was nothing else to it, really.

Jared lowered his head, Tristan pouncing his way through the leaves until Jared's nose bumped him. The cub paused, turning on ridiculously huge paws to look up at him, trilling in his throat.

"Brrr?" he asked, long tail twipping back and forth.

'C'mon, little guy,' Jared urged softly, purring as his tongue worked over Tristan's head. He stretched his neck, teeth grasping the scruff of Tristan's neck to lift him up. 'Time to take you back where you belong.'

There wasn't anywhere in the world that Jared belonged, really. Not home with his family, and not here in this memory-less clearing. It was just the only place that would have him.

And if the Blue Ridge cats didn't tear him apart, here was where he'd return.

Chapter Text

Aubrey was always up before all the others.

She had always been an early riser. Even as a cub she had bothered and irritated her mother, until he was forced to rise and entertain her before all her other littermates.

'My little hunter,' he used to say, proud as could be as he ran his tongue through the frill on her forehead, the mark of a non-fertile, a dominant. She had been the biggest in her litter, and for that she'd always had something to prove, as if she needed people to know that she'd earned it. She'd pounced and played and fought until she'd made sure that everyone knew she was the best fighter in her litter group. When she was still too small to go off into the forest by herself, she would stalk and pounce bugs, challenging herself to land a fly, despite their quick and unpredictable movements. After that, it was lizards and garter snakes, chasing them into the brush with her mother yelling after her.

Now, entering her twenty first summer, Aubrey was out ranked in size only by the alpha and a few others, and as good a hunter as any dominant. In the fall she would enter the fights to take her place as a beta, the most honored guard of the alpha and the pride. She hadn't yet fought for a fertile, but that was only because none had caught her eye. She preferred to avoid the dances and squabbles between dominants in favor of going her own way, not wanting to posture like a fool.

At least, that had been true last year.

Christopher, a fertile from the litter group just behind her own, was making himself available, after turning away suitors for the last few years. She couldn't deny that his lithe form had caught her eye more than once, the way he skipped over rocks in the river, as if afraid to get his paws wet. The way he composed himself, sure and proud, turning down dominants even in the thick of his heat. She had played with him as cubs, and she remembered his quick mind, the way he worked out how to open nuts when they all went exploring as children, or how he'd managed to scale one of the tallest trees on top of the ridge, despite how thin it was and the way it twisted in the wind. He was brave and smart, a beautiful fertile that any dominant would covet, and for the first time in her life, Aubrey found herself wanting to preen and posture, to put herself on display for his careful eye. If she could ever imagine mounting the back of any fertile, it would be him.

She had always been an early riser, but these days she found herself getting up even earlier -- as early as she would have to get up for when a hunting party was planned. The air was always cool and thin, just before dawn, the thready lines of mist still lingering as the whispering voice of Brigna chased away the last of the night. The mid summer heat would be upon them soon, and Christopher hadn't chosen a suitor during his spring heat. Aubrey was determined to be that suitor. To prove to Christopher that she could provide for their potential cubs. No hunter brought home a juicier feast than the first hunter on the field, and today she planned to gift him with a haunch of young venison. A spry fawn perhaps. Or, if she was particularly lucky and able, a porcupine, to show her cunning.

She could already picture the look in his eyes, fierce and proud of himself, preening in his ability to have dominants falling all over themselves. Except Aubrey. She wouldn't strut about like a fool. She would drag her kill to his door step and hold her head high, spread her frill and let him see the marks of blood in her coat. He would see what a fine hunter she was, what a superb dominant, and know that Aubrey only had eyes for him. It was how her father had won her mother's love, and Aubrey groomed her paw calmly in the pre-dawn light, sitting outside her home as she took in the scents of the mountains, letting the wind sing her its story, bringing in the sweet smell of pine and the dried out dung left by the prey she would soon be hunting, the weedy grass of the heath balds, laurels and the thick pollen of the woods.

It was all a story. One that her father had taught her to read, as clear as any book, and the forest was just that: a book willing to open its pages to her, spill all its secrets.

She paused, though, when it told her of another scent.

An ailure, sharp and distinctive, but she was used to being the only one up this time. She glanced around for a guard, wondering if one of the betas had roamed back home from their patrols of pride ground, but she didn't see any of them. The scent came with the brackish smell of the river, water thick with nutrients and rot, obscuring the innate scent of the ailure, and Aubrey hopped over a few rocks, down the long hill of pride ground, until she came to a small rise, able to look down to where the ground ran to the treeline, and beyond that, the river.

For a moment, there was silence, then, the unsteady steps of an ailure that wasn't even bothering to hide their noise. Clumsy and ill trained, or perhaps not trained at all, knocking sticks and leaves this way and that, alerting everything around it to its presence long before it was visible.

A few seconds later, Aubrey saw it emerge from the treeline. Long and lean, no frill or mane -- a fertile, though it had strange dark markings on its forelegs and back, almost like a dominant's striping. It seemed to have some kind of bag on its back, and she wasn't quite sure what color its coat was, because it was dulled with mud and whatever remained from the river. From its mouth dangled a cub.

Aubrey blinked, wondering what one of the young mother was doing up at this hour, with a cub no less, but then the scent came through on an updraft, sudden and strong.

Stranger.

This wasn't one of theirs. This was outsider.

Aubrey tensed, muscles locking stiffly at the perceived threat. It was bred in to her to not attack a fertile, to always treat them with respect and honor, but it was also bred into her to protect and defend her pride, and she crouched down just a little, ears going back and lips curling up. She hissed, loud and clear -- a threat. She wouldn't attack, not without provocation, not a fertile, and not with a cub in the way, but she still needed it to be known that she was here and she was a danger.

She hissed again, tail whipping back and forth, a twisting whine building in her throat, a warning yowl.

Behind her, she could hear doors opening, but she didn't take her eyes off the newcomer.

The betas would be here soon.

-----

Finding the Blue Ridge Pride hadn't been easy.

It wasn't as if they provided maps at the local Gas'n'Go or anything.

The werecat pride was protected by federal law, the only trail that went into their land being the Appalachian Trail, and even that was on the outside of their hunting ground. Jared had done his research before deciding to move out here, after all. The laws extended to the point that their land was considered a no fly zone, to keep adventurous tourists from attempting to skydive in. While it was one of those "well known secrets" that the pride lived not too far outside of Bryson, on the edge of the Nantahala, that still left hundreds of thousands of acres to explore, and the whole area had been set up to keep nosy humans out.

Jared might have had a tail and fluffy ears, but he was still human where it counted, and every stupid trap or misleading path or sign had done its job sending him off in the wrong direction. It had taken him and Tristan almost a week to get their bearings, Jared the farthest thing from an expert tracker(cursing himself, again, for dozing off in all those lessons in Boy Scouts), and by the time he'd managed to locate the pride, he wasn't exactly in tip top shape. Mud was caked in the fur on his paws and up his legs, burs sticking in his tail and leaves and twigs dangling from his coat. His pack wasn't doing so well either. There had been a point where he'd decided that crossing the river seemed like a good idea, where it had looked pretty calm and shallow.

Lies. All lies.

He'd tripped on a stone and gone tumbling into an unseen dark spot, deeper than it looked, and only luck and tenacity kept Tristan from being swept out of his mouth. He'd managed to scramble his way up onto a boulder, setting the wriggling, wet cub down, Jared's huge claws all extended, scraping against stone to keep them there. Once his heart had stopped racing, he'd taken Tristan back into his jaws, carefully picking his way through the water. They'd eventually made their way across, safe and sound, but all of Jared's clothes had gotten soaked with river water, and while he'd dried them in the sun, the stink hadn't really faded.

And that wasn't the only problem.

Hunting and tracking in unfamiliar territory was just about impossible while on the move, Jared unable to get a sense of where the local animal populations were, where the best den ground was, and for the last three days the most he'd managed to catch was the errant beetle. He was getting desperate. The hunger he'd been feeling over the last few weeks had built into a clamor now, one that was so loud that he couldn't think of anything else, even just laying there unmoving when Tristan nursed from him, the kitten draining whatever milk Jared's starving body was capable of producing.

On the eighth night of travel, Jared hadn't bothered to stop.

If he didn't find the pride soon, he would stop making milk. As it was, he'd noticed his reserves were getting low. Tristan was still as perfectly round as before, and Jared was soothed by that, but he couldn't risk the kitten's safety. With Tristan's nape in his teeth, he'd staggered through the night, paws unsteady on the ground as he dodged trees that seemed to come out of nowhere, eyes blinking blearily.

After awhile, he stopped even trying to guide himself. Too tired and too hungry, too utterly wiped, he was just putting one paw in front of the other, the only thought in his mind Keep going. Don't stop. Just keep moving forward. until all conscious thought shut down. Like he was in a mist, a fugue, he was aware that his body was moving, but he didn't know to where. Perhaps he was moving in circles, an endless and hopeless loop, lost deep in the forest. How pathetic would it be that Tristan survived a ride down the river, fresh from his mother's womb, out lived all his siblings, only to die because his stupid nursemaid got them lost?

It was more than Jared's foggy mind could contemplate. In the darkness he saw movement, shapes and living shadows, but none of it was real. He just kept going, determined that if he could, somehow, someway, he would be guided to salvation.

When the sky was just beginning to lighten, Jared stepped out from the forest and found himself looking at...a cabin.

He paused, staring, and god, had he come all this way only to stumble into some camp ground? He swayed a little, side stepping to get his balance, before turning to continue walking, making his way up a slope that he knew wasn't extreme, but felt it like Everest all the same.

Through the rushing white noise in his ears he heard a sound, something that was getting louder. Something that sounded like a cop siren or an ambulance speeding down the highway. Jared remembered cool glass against his cheek, staring out the window with his brothers fighting in the background, the soothing voice of their father only barely heard over the squeak of their car's bad shocks, bouncing with every pot hole as they drove through the night towards home, streetlamps passing by in steady sequence. Jared glanced to the side, half expecting to see one of those streetlights, marking his way home, and jumped when he saw instead a cat almost twice his size standing on a ledge. It was hissing at him, its teeth long and deadly looking, bright white poking out of pinkish gums.

Jared took a few stumbling steps back, almost dropping Tristan, but the other cat didn't follow him. It kept hissing, a constant threat, but made no move to attack. Jared stared at it for a long moment, but when nothing happened he began to move past. It followed, tail flicking around like a whip. He kept waiting for the pounce, to feel claws sinking into his flank, but with each hesitant step none came, and he continued upwards.

The slope he was on was mostly clear of trees, but not exactly a clearing. There was the occasional trunk pushing up from between the rock, but the area was sparser than most places in the forest. Laid out in no particular pattern, all spread apart, were a few dozen cabins. Some were on the main path leading up the hill, while others were seated further back in the wood, but one by one Jared could see lights coming on, people walking out with gas lamps in hand, along with surly looking werecats. Jared had never seen so many in one place.

The threatening yowls and hisses followed him up the hill, but he began to relax into it when no attacks came. It was like being the center of the world's most negative parade.

Jared almost went back into his trance, despite his dramatic welcome, staring down at the sedimentary rock beneath him as he moved forward, until a large set of paws filled his vision, and Jared stumbled to a halt. His eyes traced up the long, muscular legs, the thick auburn coat, coming nose to nose with a werecat as massive as the first. Bright blue eyes bored into Jared's, and all he could do was stare, not even having the energy to feel the terror he knew he was experiencing at some level.

The werecat leaned forward, hot blasts of air coming from its nose as it sniffed, and Jared shrank back. The world was rapidly narrowing, vision blurring out at the edges, those blue eyes seeming to grow, huge and unreal. Fear and adrenaline shook through a body ill prepared, several nights with no sleep blending with several weeks of not eating enough, compounded by an almost unbroken fast going on thirty six hours. The sky wasn't lightening. Dawn wasn't coming.

The world was turning backwards, reversing itself and spinning into night.

Jared's jaw began to weaken.

'Who are you?' a foreign voice entered his head, and it was the last straw his body could carry.

He wasn't aware of hitting the ground, only the twist of reality spinning up, the sky filling his vision before it cut out completely, and he collapsed.

Chapter Text

In the dreaming, Jared stretched his legs, paws flying down the field in pursuit of his larger brothers, the long grass flashing by rapidly. It tickled his underbelly, whipping up against his fur as he breathed deeply, the autumn air cooling and spicy with the scent of decaying leaves. Back behind them, their house smelled like Thanksgiving, all cinnamon and nutmeg and pumpkin pie, the turkey roasting and their mother's harried voice barking anxious commands for someone to set the table.

But out here.

Out here was freedom.

"Wait!" Jared laughed, flinging his body as fast as it could go, barrelling forward fast enough that he felt out of control, like he was going to tumble and crash, faster and faster. But his brothers were larger, faster, and their voices were growing more distant. He could still hear them laughing with each other, further ahead, but it was hard to see them now -- just the occasional glimpse of fur through the grass, and fear was setting in, Jared's joy leeching away to worry.

"Wait!" he called again, no laughter this time, but he didn't know if they could even hear him.

He ran faster, down into the wood, and he didn't know where the house was anymore, couldn't smell the cinnamon or the nutmeg, just the cold scent of the woods, angry and alone. Jared was panting, dodging through trees and pushing himself faster and faster, eyes wide as the forest got darker, thin branches reaching out to scrape over his coat, trying to drag him in like clawed hands.

"Brandon!" he yelled, strangled with panic. "Daniel!"

It was getting darker. No matter how wide he stretched his eyes, the light seemed to be dimming, until he couldn't see anymore, and he knew he was lost. Lost and alone and home was somewhere else, somewhere where dinner was being served, where no one even knew he was missing, and he ran, heedless. He ran until the world turned black, sight and sound vanishing into darkness, a forest he could never seem to find his way out of. His heart beat frantically, the fear a palpable thing, crawling through his bones, and he screamed.

"Brandon!!"

-----

Jared woke up with a jerk, breathing hard.

For a second, the world spun, and his claws clenched into wood, steadying himself as he tried to breath through it, get his bearings.

"You're alright," a voice said, soothing. Hands came down to rest on his neck. "Hey, it's okay."

'Get off of me!' Jared screamed with a loud yowl, lashing out with claws, and he heard whoever was behind him scramble back. He almost tipped over, the sudden movement of striking out making everything shift and tilt dizzyingly. He had to shut his eyes, shut them tight as he breathed, heartbeat a rapid thump in his veins.

Long minutes passed, and, thankfully, no one else came over to him. No one touched him or spoke.

When he felt like he could breath again, like the ground wasn't moving under him, he blinked slowly.

He found himself looking down at wood grain, boards cut unevenly from a trunk, hammered together to create a floor. He traced his eyes along the floor, until he found a wall, and looking around, he realized he was inside a room. He hadn't been inside anything besides his tent in almost two years, and for a second he wondered if he'd dreamed all of that, but this wasn't his childhood home, nor any house that he recognized. The wood was dark, and there was a gas lamp sitting on a table. There was a roughly hewn door over on one wall, a large gap beneath it, and Jared could see daylight poking in. The walls were also wooden, rounded trunks or branches pressed together, bound and sealed with dark pitch. There were no windows, but the cabin(because that's what it had to be) seemed to have electricity, an overhead light on, illuminating the room.

Jared's vision finally flicked to the figure of a human standing over in a corner, leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Jared could see four thin marks of blood on the man's forearm, from Jared's attack. They didn't look deep, but Jared winced anyways, never liking the act of harming someone. As for the man himself, he was dressed in plain slacks and a vest with no shirt, arms muscles and smeared with a few streaks of dirt. His hair was a dark auburn, and his eyes--

Jared remembered those eyes. Large and blue and taking over his vision until everything faded out and went black.

Tristan.

Jared scrambled to his feet.

'Tristan!' he demanded, then shifted back to human form, crouched to obscure his nudity but body tense, thrumming with worry. "Where's Tristan?"

"Tristan?" the man asked, blinking curiously. He didn't look mad, despite the scratches on his arm. He blinked again, then a look of realization came over him. "Oh! The cub. He's fine. You were unconscious for awhile, so we took him to another litter. There is another mother looking after him."

Jared didn't relax, but he felt, at least, his panic come to a middle. He didn't know if he could believe this guy, but he didn't want to think that anything bad had happened to the little one that had been in his charge.

"I...Can I see him?"

The man pushed himself off the wall, lifting both hands, palm out, in a placating manner.

"Hold up there," he said, taking a step forward. He paused, looking around, then reached out to grab a folded blanket, tossing it over to Jared. Jared snatched it out of the air and stood up, wrapping the cloth around himself. The man continued. "Let's just-- Look, I have some questions for you. Besides, right now? You're wiped. You need to rest before you can look after anyone else."

"I just...I need to know he's safe."

"Alright. Alright, that's fair. I can take you to him, okay? But once you check in on him, we're going to have to talk. You get that, right?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I--...Who are you?"

"My name is Misha. I'm captain of the betas. Our alpha has charged me with your care."

Jared didn't know exactly what all that meant, but he nodded anyways. If nothing else, he didn't read any threat from this guy. He seemed to be friendly enough, and Jared was desperate enough to make sure his cub was alright that he would have been willing to go along, even if Misha hadn't been friendly.

Jared cinched the blanket around his waist, nodding to the other werecat, letting Misha lead him out the door.

Outside the cabin it was midday, and the sun was bright over the mountainside, making Jared blink and wince as he stepped out into it. When his eyes had begun to adjust, he glanced around the area he only vaguely remembered from before. It was the same hill littered with cabins, bare rock and sparse trees, brighter now in the daylight. Jared could hear the river not too far below them, hidden by the forest, but the louder sounds were that of life, and if Jared had been better able to contain his emotions, he would have just stared. As it was, his jaw dropped a little.

All around them were werecats, some in human form, others cat, some older, some children, some cubs, some sweeping off front porches and others running around chasing one another. He heard a child laughing and turned to see a girl in human form, no more than eight, playing with a set of cubs, a yearling cub growling in mock aggression, the two of them rolling around on the forest floor. There was a patter of paws, and a group of older kids ran past, the same strange mixture of forms. One of the ones in human form yelled and waved to Misha as he went by, only to get shoved by the person behind him.

"Oh my god," Jared managed, after a moment.

"You alright?" Misha asked.

"Yeah, I've just... I've never seen so many werecats before."

Misha frowned a little, but whatever he was thinking, he didn't give it away. He shrugged slightly and said:

"Yeah, I suppose we're a pretty large pride." He gestured towards Jared. "C'mon, follow me."

"I don't--" Jared started, shifting awkwardly on the small porch of the cabin. "I mean, my clothes..."

"It's fine," Misha said, shaking his head, then seemed to realize Jared's discomfort. "Trust me, no one minds." He pointed up the hill, and Jared could see a few naked individuals in amongst cats, laying all together, sunning themselves on the rocks.

"Oh, uh...alright. If we can...you know, get me some pants, though, at some point..." Jared tried for a weak smile. Misha returned it, all teeth and gums, something almost like carefree. It had been a long time since Jared had seen something like that.

Misha led him around the cabin and into a shaded area, where there were a few trees. As they passed a few cabins, Jared felt the eyes of the pride on him, people stopping their daily activites to whisper or stare, and he flushed a little, self conscious.

"We don't get many visitors," Misha explained a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, I'd imagine..." It had been hard enough just to find them, after all.

They stopped in front of the cabin pressed back into a rise in the rock, the sun playing in dappled patterns across the floor of criss crossed pine needles, shifting with the gentle breeze. It was a beautiful day, not too hot and not too cold, and Jared might have had more appreciation for that if he'd felt like he could think in a straight line. He was still out of it -- twisted up and worried, disoriented from his sleep and the hunger still there, but all distant to the need to see Tristan, to make sure the cub was alright. That he hadn't been hurt when Jared collapsed. That no one had hurt him.

In front of the cabin was an adult cat, stretched out in a rare patch of sunlight, blinking lazily as she watched a group of kittens prancing about, letting out little warks of vigorous play, pouncing on each other and growling, rolling around in the leaves. It was hard to count them, every little body in motion and moving around, confusing him, but Jared thought there were five, altogether, and they were all Tristan's age.

"Julie," Misha said, warmth in his voice, and Jared saw the lounging cat lift its head. A second later it shifted, changing into a svelte redheaded woman, her body blending from one form to another like someone had spilled a bucket of water over her, washing her fur away. She rose to her feet, and Jared flushed and looked away from her bare skin. She didn't notice, just smiling and stepping forward to lean up, pressing her lips against Misha's.

"Is this our visitor?" she asked, looking at Jared.

"This is him. He wanted to check on his cub."

Jared took that as his cue, eyes darting over the gamboling youngsters while still trying to keep his eyes away from Julie's unabashed nakedness. With Misha there, some of the cubs had broken off from their play, trotting over to sniff at his feet or gnaw on his pants' leg. One of the cubs was creeping over to Misha curiously, and Jared picked him out almost immediately, recognizing the pattern of light dappled spots running over the cub's back.

"Tristan," he said on a long breath of warm relief, kneeling down, the blanket stretching around his waist. He extended his arms, holding his hands out, and the cub turned, glancing back at him. He blinked his big teal eyes, then seemed to recognize Jared, letting out a trill and turning around to jog over to him, letting Jared scoop him up, holding the cub against his chest. He kissed the downy fur. "Glad you're alright, little buddy," he murmured, and felt the worry clogging up his chest crack and relent, sweeping away in the warm rush of relief when he felt the small body begin to rumble with a purr.

For a few minutes, he just stood there like that, and the others left him alone. He shut his eyes against the world, trying to take some peace, but he felt himself begin to shake as that worry dislodged, broke and gave way to his hunger, his exhaustion, the ragged edges of a body pushed through too much, and he hadn't realized just how wiped he was until he had Tristan in his arms, until he knew that the kitten was safe, and that he could look after himself.

He blinked his eyes open in surprise when he felt hands against his own, reaching out and carefully taking Tristan from him, who was already beginning to wiggle, eager to return to his play. Jared saw Misha smile as he took the kitten, carefully setting him down, and Tristan immediately galloped off, running over to bowl into the other litter.

"Come, you should sit, rest," Misha said, his voice artificially soft, but Jared didn't have the energy to object to the placation. Instead he just let Misha guide him into the cabin, watching Misha flick the light on as they entered, feeling the steady hands move him over to a rocking chair. Jared sat down heavily, suddenly uncertain if his legs would have held him up much longer.

"God, I'm tired..."

"I'm not surprised," Misha replied, voice gentle. "You look thin... Where's your mate? You've worn yourself to the bone looking after that cub." Jared felt Misha's hand slid under his chin, tilting it up, the grasp gentle -- kind, and Jared was a little ashamed to admit that, after two years of isolation, he almost whimpered and leaned in. Instead, his sense of propriety kept him from making a fool of himself, and he shoved the other man away, not liking how casually his personal space was invaded.

"Stop that. Why do you--" He pursed his lips, then glanced out the open cabin door. "Isn't that your wife out there?"

"Wife?" Misha quirked his head. "She's my mate."

"Then why do you keep...touching me?"

"You're-- You think I was--" Misha shook his head, looking a little shocked. He held up both hands in the 'I'm innocent' gesture. "I'm sorry if you misunderstood. In our pride, we-- You are a fertile. We care for fertiles. They are..." He nodded his head back and forth, obviously thinking over the words. "Sacred, to us. It is normal for us to touch and care for them. I didn't mean to imply anything. It's the same as I would do for any fertile."

Jared flushed a little. He'd never been referred to as 'a fertile' before, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. Christ, they could tell? Could they smell it on him? He swallowed dryly, feeling a little sick, and if he'd had the energy to even stand, he might have just run away. It was his modus operandi.

"Yeah," Jared muttered, sullen. He turned his face away. "Anyways..."

"I'm going to get you food. If you feel up to it, I need some explanation from you to take to the alpha, but after that, you can rest. You look like you need it."

Jared just grunted, not watching as Misha moved away, walking towards the back of the cabin. He returned a few seconds later with a plate, bearing what looked like beef jerky and dried fish, a few leafy greens on the side. Two years and an addiction to junk food ago, Jared would have turned his nose up at the fare, but after surviving only on what he could catch or find for the last few seasons(which included some fairly slimy bugs), and a few weeks of near starvation under his belt, he found himself tucking into it with enthusiasm. Misha seemed to be patient enough, pulling up a chair and sitting on the edge of it, resting his elbows on his spread knees, waiting for Jared to finish before talking.

He felt like he'd never tasted anything so good before. The meat and fish were salty, sharp on his tongue, and god, god he'd missed salt. He hadn't had any in so long, and he found him tearing off bite after bite, chewing fast, as if the food was planning to run away. He stuffed his mouth full with the next bite before he'd even finished the first, until his cheeks bulged, and some part of him was glad that a knife and fork hadn't been provided. He didn't have the patience for anything other than shoveling the food in with his hands. The greens were reedy and crisp, having that homegrown flavor to them, and he actually found himself moaning a little.

When he finished, Misha indulgently offered him a hunk of bread, which Jared managed to eat with a little more dignity, the edge of his hunger dulled. The other man rose, walking into the back of the cabin and returning with what looked like a handblown glass, full of water with only some sediment floating in it.

"Thanks," Jared managed to get out, taking the glass.

"We'll start with the easy stuff..." Misha started once Jared had set his plate aside. He was still kind of hungry, but he recognized that if he ate too much he'd just end up throwing it all back up later. "What's your name?"

"Jared Padalecki," he answered, feeling no reason to lie at this point. Thus far, he'd been treated more than reasonably.

"Okay... What pride do you come from?"

"I've never had a pride," Jared replied with a shrug, but it didn't seem that trivial to Misha, who gaped a little. "I was raised by humans. Me and my brothers."

"By humans?" Misha asked, shaking his head. "Why? What happened?"

His expression of horror was more than Jared could deal with. He looked to the side.

"Is that important?"

"...no, I suppose not." Misha seemed to settle himself, knitting his fingers together, though his expression still spoke of concern and curiosity. "Why did you come here? Where is your mate?"

"I don't have a mate. I--...I've been living down the river. By myself."

Misha's brow creased, and Jared kept speaking, not wanting the other cat to interject -- to make it even more obvious how strange and horrifying and different Jared was.

"Two months ago a picnic basket washed up near my camp. I found... There were dead kittens in there. Five dead ones and one still alive. Tristan. I've been looking after him, since then. I assumed he came from your pride."

"Our first birthing season was two months ago. The timing would fit but... I can't imagine what ailure would do such a thing. Send their little ones away..." He shook his head, and then noticed a cub standing in the doorway. It wasn't Tristan, a little bit too big and his coat lighter in shade -- part of the litter that Jared could only assume was Misha's. The other werecat leaned down, extending his hand to the kitten, and it trotted over. Misha picked it up, holding it against his vest like a baby.

Jared watched the cub wriggle and settle down, watched the gentle way Misha teased it, tickling its belly and letting it bat his hand with its paw.

"Well, it came from up river, and you guys are the only werecat pride I know of. Once I was...Once I was sure that Tristan was old enough to travel, I brought him back." That was a bit of a lie. He'd waited longer. They probably could have made the trip three weeks ago, once Tristan had stabilized and put on some weight.

"We thank you for your kindness, then." Misha looked up from the cub, over at Jared. "I will have to talk to the alpha about this. If what you say is true... Doing something like that to a litter of kittens... It's very serious."

"Yeah, I--" Jared looked away, looked out the open door to where Julie was now nursing her kittens, Tristan lumped in with them. This wasn't the violent, animalistic society he had expected. He'd expected to see cats fighting, to see them huddled together for shelter under tree branches. He'd expected them to rip into him as soon as look at him, and this place was nothing like that. Nothing like he'd been taught in school. There were homes with beds here, mothers with their children, calm spots of shade to nap in and warm rocks to sun in. Plenty of food and family. Safety. Tristan would be loved here, accepted. Something awful had happened, Jared was sure, to bring Tristan to him in the manner he had been, but whatever it was that had caused someone to abandon their children, it was clearly an anomaly. "I'm glad."

Misha smiled warmly, then glanced down at his child, who was letting out little squeaks and whines as it noticed that it was feeding time outside. Misha leaned down, setting the cub on the floor, watching as it immediately ran outside. He stood up, crossing his arms loosely over his middle.

"Rest up. You're welcome here. We will have a bed set up for you."

"That's really not necessary," Jared objected, sitting up straighter. "I just came here to drop Tristan off, then I planned to head back."

"Alone?" Misha frowned, clearly unsettled. "Please... rest. You've done our pride a great service, caring for a child of ours. We could not, in good conscience, send you back out as you are. You have burned your own body to care for the little one. Let us care for you."

Jared looked uncomfortable, uncertain of staying here, of getting too comfortable, of seeing Tristan every day still and knowing he had to give him up. At least if he left now, it would be a clean cut.

"Look," Misha tried again, voice firmer. "If nothing else, our alpha will need to talk to you, to find out what happened and figure this out. And besides, we didn't know another ailure was living so close to our pride. We don't wish to intrude upon your life, but we would at least like to know of you."

"Ailure..." Jared repeated, remembering the word from earlier. "What is that?"

Misha looked surprised.

"It's--..." He softened, expression going sad and far away. "...you really don't know anything about yourself, do you?" He pursed his lips briefly, and shook his head. He smiled, too full of sweet pity and kindness, and Jared almost looked away. "You are an ailure. An ailuranthrope. It was the word given to us by the Romans, a long time ago. It is a word for our people." He let out a sigh, taking a few steps over, and Jared saw the other man reach a hand out, about to touch the top of Jared's head when he seemed to remember the whole 'personal space' issue and drew his hand back. "Stay. Please. Let yourself recover while we find out what happened to Tristan and his littermates. I promise you, no harm will come to you."

Jared hesitated, still uncertain about the situation, but he could already feel himself giving in. A warm bed, plentiful food, and someone to talk to besides himself... He knew that going back to his campsite wasn't going to get easier with time, only harder, but he still wanted this, even if it would only hurt more when he eventually had to go.

"...alright," he agreed finally. "I'll stay. Until you've...Until you can work out what happened."

It was a flimsy excuse, but Misha seemed inclined to let him have the comfort of the illusion. The other werecat -- ailure -- just smiled, warm and welcoming, and nodded. Jared pulled his blanket in around himself, leaning on whatever he could to rationalize his decision. He watched Misha walk out of the cabin, leaving the door open and the warm summer breeze flowing in.

Jared's eyes drifted shut, hearing the muffled growls and calls of the kittens. After a moment, the low murmur of a voice, Misha talking to his mate, and the words were lost to him, but not the tone. Gentle, loving. Words of affection.

Already, despite hours of unconsciousness, he could feel the desire to sleep, to rest. Weeks of running himself ragged crept in around the edges, and he couldn't hold out against the lulling whispers, promises of peace, of safety. Of the burden being carried by someone else for a little bit.

Ailure, he thought hazily, the sounds and scents of the world blending in together and everything else beginning to fade away. I am an ailure.

Chapter Text

Misha had always considered himself an adventurer.

His parents would have used other words.

Back then, he never would have thought he'd end up here -- mated, and father to his first litter. A respected beta, and more than that: captain of the betas. Second in command to the whole pride and the trusted right hand of his alpha.

These days, he was an adult, settled and responsible.

His younger self would have been so disappointed.

When he was a kid, back in Maine, he was always running off of pride ground, despite the chastising of his parents and the deep frowns of the betas. Rangeley wasn't too far of a trek from pride ground, and in the summer, when the snows had melted, he would shift his form and walk down to the highways into town. Sure, people stared at him for not having shoes, and sure, he always got in trouble when he went back, but it was always worth it for the adventure. For the chance to meet humans, to have them come up and stare at him, Misha more than eager to have all eyes on himself.

When he was sixteen, his pride, the Saddleback Pride, had arranged a transfer of fifteen youths with the Blue Ridge Pride of the south. It wasn't unusual. Spread out as they were, it was important for the prides to trade members from time to time, to keep the bloodlines fresh and diverse. His mother had frowned when he'd announced his intent to go, eager to get out there, to see more of the world, but his father had just shook his head with a weary, but still affectionate smile. His father had hoped that maybe the travel would finally cut Misha's teeth on the real world.

He adored his parents, but he also knew he wore on them. His mother used to joke that he was ten kittens all in one, and it was pretty true -- he'd been more trouble than all his littermates combined.

It hadn't been hard to go. He was too eager for more, too excited to leave home to be homesick. Sure, he missed his family from time to time, and he missed the deep snows of the north on occasion, but for the most part, after nineteen years as part of the Blue Ridge Pride, he considered the south his home.

It was in the south that he'd met Julie, the fertile with the wild red coat, bright and distinctive, and where he'd come into his own, where he'd stopped with his games and his pranks and his irreverent nature(well, mostly), where he'd finally grown up and found a sense of responsibility.

It hadn't happened overnight, of course. A few months after his arrival, he got the feeling that the pride alpha was regretting taking him in. It wasn't like Misha meant to cause trouble. It just happened to him. Naturally. Yes, okay, there was that time that he teased that family of badgers out of their den(probably shouldn't have done that), and that time that he'd decided to sneak up on and pretend to attack a group of campers(definitely shouldn't have done that). And all in all, even Misha had to admit that no one appreciated his attempts at "art." Still, it wasn't like he went around asking for trouble. Mostly.

When the betas had forced him to "spend time with"(in other words, be babysat by) another young cat named Jensen, Misha had been less than enthused. They were the same age, but hardly of the same disposition. Jensen had been a quiet, unobtrusive ailure back then, still growing into his frill, the grandson of an alpha and his mother's proud expectations on his shoulders. He was stiff and a stickler for rules, and almost every time Misha tried to get himself into trouble do something fun, Jensen was there to thwart him. And if he didn't thwart him, he told on him.

All in all, Misha hadn't been a fan.

But Misha was nothing if not determined, and he thought he could crack even the toughest nut. It had taken a couple of years and a full time job of goading, but the first time he'd convinced Jensen to pull a prank, he couldn't have been prouder. He only felt a little bad about it later, listening to the stern lecture Jensen's parents had given him, his mother talking on and on about their heritage, about Jensen's grandfather, about the place in the pride that Jensen was destined for.

Misha would have rolled his eyes if he didn't know exactly how much the whole thing weighed on Jensen.

And besides, Misha hadn't thought his friend would do well at being an alpha. At first, he'd thought Jensen was too reserved to take on such a role. By the time they were actually friends(best friends, Misha would insist), they were almost twenty, and Jensen wad determined to become a beta. It was a hard trial, involving fights and endurance tests, days alone in the wilderness at a time, and all with the unkind mocking of the older guards. Misha had tried to talk Jensen out of it -- after all, there was no way Jensen'd ever be able to skip out on a hunt ever again, or go off with Misha to play. He'd have to be serious. He'd have to be an adult.

When Jensen insisted that it was what he wanted, Misha had no choice. He'd just have to try out with him.

Even now, Misha still remembered their earliest assignment with the guard after passing their tests. It was the first time he'd ever felt inspired by something, by someone. The first time he'd actually wanted to be good enough for something. Better.

It hadn't started out like that, though.

They had to patrol the remotest regions of the hunting grounds, as far from pride ground as they could be, and there was no real shelter to be found. It was no secret that the older betas enjoyed putting the new kids through their paces, giving them the crappiest assignments, and as Misha had sat under a branch, rainwater dripping through his sodden coat, there was no other word to describe it.

'You know,' he had started, the two of them on their fourth night of their ten day patrol. 'You don't have to do this.'

'Do what?' Jensen had replied, his ears flat, water dripping off the ends sadly.

'All of this. Be a beta. Become an alpha. Just because your parents expect you to...' He'd let the sentence drift off, staring out at the rainy landscape, the errant patter of water against leaves above them a lulling sound.

'It's not that.'

'How is it then?' Misha had asked, curiosity roused. He was used to having to push, urge Jensen to speak up. The other ailure hadn't been shy, so to speak, but he was often too composed to actually say what he meant. Sometimes, if the situation called for it, Misha had to annoy Jensen into speaking his mind.

'It's... I want to.'

Misha hadn't been sure he believed that. Jensen was quiet enough, reserved and obedient enough that Misha could have believe that Jensen could get bullied into believing he wanted something, all just to please his parents.

'Not sure I quite believe you there, Jense.'

Jensen had snorted, shaking himself, and Misha had winced as he got hit with the spray.

'Jed's a good alpha, he looks after the pride but... I think I can do better. He's so distant. He makes sure everyone's taken care of, but they barely see him. An alpha should be like a father to their pride. They should be there for more than security. And... I mean, I don't know, but...' Jensen had waffled at the end there, drifted off, but Misha was leaning forward, encouraged by the tone in his friend's voice. How he'd spoken, for a moment there, with conviction.

'No, no. You--...Keep going,' he'd asked, leaning over to nudge Jensen's shoulder with his nose.

'Yeah?' Jensen's face had been painted with that tender insecurity, a little hopeful -- small enough that a harsh word would crush it.

'Yeah,' Misha'd replied, smiling as much as that form had allowed him, butting their heads together.

Listening to Jensen that afternoon as he talked about the direction he wanted to take the pride in, the kind of alpha he wanted to be, kind and attentive, a caretaker and guardian at once. Talking about his plans, how he would alter the hunting groups, how he wanted to deal with humans, getting to know the locals more, have the pride be less separatist when it came to humans, building more of the cabins for families to live in -- that was the first time Misha wanted to follow him. Wanted to see his friend as the alpha he wanted to be, and not the one his parents wanted. It was the first time that Misha had realized that Jensen actually wanted this, in his own way. On his own terms.

And for the first time in his life, Misha wanted to listen to someone, to actually obey.

When Jensen had beaten all the other competition seven years later, in the aftermath of the old alpha's passing, Misha had been there. Misha had been watching. He wanted to be right there, right beside his friend, to see the kind of pride that he would build. To be a part of building that pride.

But the alpha that sat before Misha now, quiet and despondent, withdrawn from his pride and keeping them at arms length, was not the alpha that had inspired Misha, all those years ago, when they were young and foolish and full of ideals.

The captain pursed his lips.

"You should see him, alpha," he reported, watching Jensen's form, the other ailure standing in the kitchen of the main house, his hands on the countertop. He was staring out the window. At what, Misha didn't know. "He's thin, wasted away. He's been looking after this cub ever since the birthing season, all by himself. He has no mate, no pride... He needs our help."

Jensen was silent.

"Alpha?" Misha pushed.

"What do you want me to do?"

Misha frowned.

"I want you to tell me what I should do about this," he replied. He could make the decision himself. He'd absconded from the fights eight years ago, forfeiting his right to compete for position of alpha, but it wasn't because he was incapable of shouldering decisions himself. He'd never wanted to be alpha, but he could have been. He'd stepped aside though, for his friend. To be the trusted second that his friend needed. But right now, he needed Jensen to care about something. "We have a stranger amongst us. An ailure raised by humans. Apparently he's been living downstream from us for almost two years, alpha. No matter what happens, we clearly have some choices to make."

Jensen was silent for a moment, motionless, then he glanced back over his shoulder at Misha. He took a deep breath then nodded, agreeing, but that wasn't enough. Not for Misha.

"Jensen," he said, softer, for once not addressing him formally. It was a rare thing. Even in private, Misha couldn't afford to forget their positions. They both loved their pride, and part of expressing that love was taking their positions seriously. If anything happened to Jensen, Misha would lead the pride until a new alpha could be chosen.

"I know," Jensen replied, turning around and rubbing his face, hand scrubbing over it with a long sigh. His tone was resigned, and Misha was glad, at least, that it wasn't combative. "I know, I just--..."

"It's been hard on you. We all see that." Misha took a few steps forward into the kitchen, dropping his hands from behind his back, letting them hang casually at his side. "I just wish you'd let us know what we can do."

"Nothing." Jensen shook his head. "It's... It's just something I have to get over on my own."

"Yeah, that's working out really well so far."

Jensen gave him a dirty look.

"Hey," Misha smiled a little, sympathetic. "I'm just saying...If you always do what you've done, you'll always get what you got--"

"That's a misquote"

"--and what you're getting right now is obviously not what you need. Alona... You made her cry. Cry, Jensen. I don't think I've seen that girl cry more than a handful of times in her whole life. You two have always been like peas in a pod, and you're lashing out at the people closest to you. This pride adores you. In the last eight years, you've made everyone's living conditions better, you've made us safer, and you've got to know that we're here for you too. You don't have to handle everything by yourself. It's not weakness to let us help. Hell, just let Alona and I help, if you're so afraid of losing face."

"It's not that." Jensen lifted a hand, rubbing at his eyes, but his voice was still calm. Trying, at least, to talk about this. "It's... I feel like I failed her. Cosette. Like I failed them."

Them. Misha didn't need to ask. His expression went soft, remembering only briefly the sight of the little grey bodies before Jensen had taken them from the cabin where Cosette gave birth.

"I was their alpha, I'm her alpha, and...I should never have made her bear that for me."

"She volunteered."

"But it was still my place to make the decision! And I...I decided wrong. I chose selfishly. I wanted children, and I took a risk. And because of that, six ailure died before they could even live, and another, one of mine, one of my pride, is suffering."

"She suffers because she thinks you blame her." Misha took a few steps forward, reaching into his alpha's space to put a hand on his shoulder. It was unusual for two dominants to be affectionate with each other, but Misha had always been demonstrative, more so than any of the other dominants. "Our alpha has gone into seclusion, cloistering himself away and leaving us rudderless. She thinks that she did that. She's taken it on herself because she doesn't have anything to show her differently."

"You have to tell her--"

"And I have. And all the others have too. But you know how it is. You are alpha. Your word is law and comfort all at once. And besides that, you're the one she thinks she's wronged. No one else is going to do."

"I just don't know how to get over this." Jensen shook his head, hung it between his hunched shoulders. "It feels like I'm dragging them with me, wherever I go. Six bodies and they are just getting heavier..."

"It wasn't your fault. You can't control these things. What do you even think that you could have done?"

Jensen was silent, turning his gaze away. Misha knew it wasn't that easy. It wasn't that logical, and he couldn't cure this kind of pain with reason. But he hoped, at least, he could snap his friend out of this.

"Jensen... I've known you for almost twenty years. We became hunters together. We became true ailure together. You have to believe me when I say that you are a good man, and a good alpha. You can't let this destroy you, everything you've worked for. You've built so much, even in just eight years. Think of all the other things you have yet to accomplish. Things you will never do, if you continue to let this eat at you." He lifted his other hand, taking his friend's other shoulder to give him a single, gentle shake. "Jensen. Your time isn't over. You will get through this."

He watched the top of his alpha's head, still hung. He had no doubt that Jensen could overcome this, if he so chose. He still remembered Jensen's coat soaked in blood, chest heaving and six fights down, calling out for more, fighting for what he wanted. Jensen had overcome that day, taken his place as their leader, their bastion, and he would overcome it. Misha hoped, at least.

"Jensen..."

The other man raised his head, eyes rimmed red and strained. He was tired and trying to run when his legs had been crippled. He was too used to carrying things alone, too used to seeing himself as the pillar for everyone else. He needed someone by his side, someone who could make him lean on someone else, even just for a moment. Misha wished that their friendship could allow that now as it had years ago, trapped out in that miserable forest, coats dripping and the two of them laughing as their shoulders bumped, but this was not that time, and this man not that same friend.

No matter where they were, Jensen would still be his alpha. They were friends, still, life long, if Misha had anything to say about it, but they were no longer equals.

Jensen pursed his lips, though, and nodded.

Misha felt some tension bleed out of his frame, and he clapped one hand against his friend's shoulder.

"You know we're here for you. I know it's not going to be easy, or instant..."

"I know."

"But we want to see you well again, alpha."

Jensen covered one of Misha's hands with his own, offering a tired smile.

"Misha, I know..." He took a deep breath and stepped back, straightening. "So...this newcomer."

"Yes," Misha replied, moving back as well. Even just seeing Jensen admit to the problem had relieved some of the worry in his chest. It was a small step for today, but an important one. It was enough just to see his alpha actually engaging with pride business again. "He's all alone, alpha. He's a fertile, too -- it hurts me to see one suffering like this. Our people were not meant to live apart."

"No," Jensen agreed, reaching for his mug of water, taking a sip. "No, we were not." He paused, brow furrowing as he seemed to think of something. "You said he had a cub... If he is alone, where is his mate?" Jensen turned slightly, setting the mug down.

"He says the cub isn't his. This is something else we need to address... He says that two months ago a picnic basket washed up on the shore of the river, near his den. Apparently it contained a litter -- five dead and one living. He--...Jensen?" Misha quirked his head, unable to miss the changes in his friend's face: the way every muscle went slack, one after the other, like dominos falling; the way he went slowly pale.

"He--" the alpha croaked, and then he stumbled and Misha's eyes widened, taken by surprise at that. He reached out to steady his friend, but Jensen smacked his hands away.

"Where is he?" he alpha asked, his voice hoarse.

"Jensen, you--"

"Where is he?!" Jensen roared and it was instinctive. Misha winced and answered, the desire to obey his alpha blood deep.

"My cabin."

Jensen just stood there, staring at him for a moment, and then he was in motion. Misha stumbled as Jensen shoved passed him, running full tilt, and the captain gaped, whirling around.

"Jensen!" he yelled, but it made no difference. Jensen was running through the main house, shoving open the front door hard enough that it banged on the wall, and he kept going. Misha stood frozen for only a second, but it was long enough for Jensen to vanish from sight, before Misha could get his feet to respond, taking off after his friend.

"Alpha!"

Chapter Text

For a moment, Jensen thought that maybe things could get better.

The last two months had run him ragged, and he couldn't even put his finger on why, exactly. He hadn't gone out on the hunts, and he hadn't been roaming. He'd barely been doing anything at all but sleeping, yet he felt like every day was a marathon. Like waking up was the worst part of the day, and his only respite was unconsciousness.

He had wished, desperately, that it was something he could just get over. He'd told himself to do so, over and over again, but the words were easy while the actions were hard. And it was only made worse with the widdening gap between him and his pride. They were his family, his wards and his comfort. They were the sum total of everything he'd ever wanted and everything he'd ever worked for in his life.

And then one day he'd woken up and wondered who they were, wondered when he'd last spoken to anyone outside the occasional beta. He didn't know when or how it'd happened, didn't even remember it happening. All he knew was that weeks had passed, somehow, without him even noticing, and his pride was as far from him as the horizon. No matter how hard or fast he ran towards it, it was always just as far away, laughing merrily as he chased it with all desperation.

He'd screamed at himself to get better, to move on, before he lost something irreplaceable, but it was like the fear of loss made it even worse. He'd pushed even harder, sectioned himself even more, even as he'd berated himself for his actions.

In the end, he just didn't know how to make things right again. He didn't know how to get back to being the person he'd been before.

Part of him had thought that maybe it was just time. He just needed distance and time to heal and eventually things would go back to normal. He would grow past his loss, and the hurt he'd inflicted on Cosette and his pride. The human books he'd collected used a phrase -- "Time heals all wounds." Once, he'd found it profound. Once, he'd believed it.

But this didn't feel like a wound, seeping and healing, red flesh mending back together and becoming whole.

It felt like he'd been bitten by a snake, as if a poison had worked its way into his system, and instead of getting better he was just getting worse. Becoming more bitter, more poisoned, more infected by his loss, and that everything he touched became poisoned with him. The only time he felt even vaguely safe, like his pride was safe, was when he was locked away from them. It was the only time things were okay. It was just also the time when things were as bad as they could possibly get.

And because of that, he was losing his pride -- his pride, who he'd felt like a father to long before Cosette had offered him the chance for children. Leading the pride to greatness had been his dream, ever since his mother had told him stories of her father, the alpha before the alpha before him, and told him of a different kind of pride. One that wasn't afraid of the humans, that roamed far from pride ground and hunted freely across the mountain range. Jensen had wanted to bring that pride back. He had wanted to become the kind of alpha that would be remembered -- not for ego or power, but because he loved his family, his people. He wanted to be the kind of alpha that they deserved.

And for a moment, he almost had been.

The worst part was that he still knew it was within his power to fix. He knew it was all on him. If he'd just stop pushing them away, if he'd just stop keeping everyone at arm's length and go back to how things were before, he knew it would get better. He knew he could get better.

It seemed so simple.

But it just wasn't.

He'd never felt lower than when he'd leaned into Alona and called her cheap. When he'd looked at a fertile -- beloved and gentle, a giver of life -- and called their heat something dirty, something base and vile. He'd never felt lower. And yet it had felt so good.

He'd spoken with barbed words intended to hurt, and it left him feeling sick, nauseous and wrong, but he couldn't deny, at the same time, just for an instant, the way it made the pain lessen. The way it felt to make someone else suffer. He'd walked away not because Alona had done something wrong, or because she disgusted him as he'd implied, but because he knew if he stayed, if she stayed near him, he'd do it again.

Anything to make someone else feel what he was feeling.

He had ordered her to stay away to keep her safe from the poison that was leaking from him, building in his veins. He wondered, some mornings, if it was changing him, altering his shape. Taking the gift of Saul'hrao from him and twisting him into something else, no longer a sleek cat but something vile and hobbled, a darkened creature that would crawl into caverns and pits under the mountain, underserving of living under the sun's light.

He felt like he was less of an ailure every day, and there was no one he could turn to.

If she had still walked the mountains, he would have gone to his mother, sought her comfort and her wisdom, but time and trial had taken her a few years earlier, and Jensen had never felt more alone. He was alpha. He knew in his blood that it wasn't his place to turn to his pride, that it was his job to be there for them, not the other way around. Even Misha, his oldest and closest friend, was pride. He saw it in Misha's eyes, on occasion -- that look of true belief, of faith. The look of someone wanting to follow, and Jensen couldn't turn around and put it back on Misha, deny him the alpha he was looking for.

For a moment, in the kitchen, he'd thought that perhaps he could.

Perhaps he could bend a little, let Misha carry some of the load.

But that moment had passed.

"He says the cub isn't his. This is something else we need to address... He says that two months ago a picnic basket washed up on the shore of the river, near his den. Apparently it contained a litter -- five dead and one living."

Five dead, one living.

Six cubs in a picnic basket, drifting down the river, and there was no doubt whose they were. Six cubs that Jensen had needed to be gone, to be somewhere else, somewhere where he didn't have to acknowledge them. Somewhere where they'd never been pride, and he'd never let them down.

Five dead and one living and if that were the case, when had the other five died? If one had been yet living, laying weak in Jensen's hands when he placed it in its silent tomb, how many others had still had a chance? How many had he sentenced to their deaths?

Jensen ran like death was nipping at his heels. He felt fear and anger and something worse, something much much worse, behind all of that. It was like a nightmare, like the worst thing he could imagine and he couldn't even think clear enough to fully realize what he was doing. He wasn't even thinking that far. He couldn't seem to get his brain to work past the terror, clicking back over and over again, incapable of moving on from the howling thought of oh god oh god they weren't dead.

He couldn't move fast enough, body grasping at the shift, wanting to leap from two legs to four, but some older instinct held him back, the last vestiges of conscious thought that warned when he went animal the last of his higher thinking would blank out. That he would be a beast with nothing but claws and teeth and anger, no longer an alpha or even an ailure, he would lose the last of himself and become something deeper, something baser. Become that darkened thing that scraped across the earth on its belly, hiding away in the shadow.

Something that would wipe the evidence of his wrong doing from the earth with bloody violence, so even Saul'hrao couldn't see it.

Jensen leapt over a rise in the hill, landing hard on the bed of leaves below, leaving the clearing and heading into the thin part of the forest. He ran past the tree trunks, bare feet skidding on the detritus, and he didn't even see Julie and the cubs, didn't even pay them mind as he pounded up the two steps onto the cabin's porch. The door was sitting lazy and open and Jensen ran in, footfalls finally thumping to a stop as he turned his head this way and that, eyes sweeping over the sleeping form multiple times before he finally saw it.

A man, tall and long, and thin as Misha had described. He was tan, and had perhaps once been fit before the starvation took the edge of his muscles. His eyes were closed, lashes against cheek, and his messy hair lay in unkempt whorls, a deep brown. For a second, Jensen just stared at him, breathing hard from the run. The noise he'd made entering the cabin, though, was enough to wake the newcomer, and Jensen watched as his eyes blinked open, slow and uncomprehending, pupils contracting and relaxing as they tried to focus.

The stranger sat up some in his chair, rubbing one knuckle against an eye.

"Who're you?" he asked, voice husky with sleep. Jensen felt his muscles tense and bunch, but he didn't remember exactly how he went from standing there to hauling the stranger up, pressing him back against a wall, hands gripping him too hard.

"Hey, get off me!" the other man protested, shifting restlessly, but Jensen was stronger and didn't give an inch.

"Who are you?" Jensen demanded. He pulled the stranger forward and hit him against the wall for good measure. "Why did you come here?"

"I just-- ow! Christ! Let me go!"

Jensen bared his teeth, irrational rage pulsing through him. He looked at the stranger's hazel eyes, but he didn't see them. He didn't see an ailure, a fertile, or even a person. He just saw the manifestation of his down fall. The man who'd brought his crime back to him, shoved it in his face and taken that last piece of hope for redemption away from him. This man was the symbol of Jensen's failure, the proof that Jensen had condemned his own children to death.

Jensen gasped for breath, feeling choked.

"You're--" the stranger started, eyes widening, and Jensen had no idea what he was talking about.

"Were they--...How many..." He hung his head, clenching his eyes tight shut, just trying to breathe through it. His hands were shaking, gripping tight enough to bruise. It felt like his heart was stopping. His chest was pressing inwards, ribs crushing in around his heart, like boney spears trying to piece that cursed organ, his lungs trapped in the middle of their war and he couldn't breathe, couldn't see. The edges of his vision were turning hushed and violet, tunneling inwards across the backs of his eyelids.

There was a sharp and sudden bite of pain against the back of his ankle, sharp and hard enough to draw blood. Jensen cried out at the unexpected feeling kicking out instinctively. He heard a high pitched cry as he whirled around, only to get shoved aside by the stranger.

"Tristan!" The stranger went to his knees, picking up a little cub and cradling it, and Jensen's eyes went wide, staring at it. The kitten was disoriented for a moment, blinking blearily in the stranger's arms before he seemed to come back to himself. When he did, he rubbed himself up against the stranger, purring as he was pet and comforted, until his eyes found Jensen again, and he gave a pathetic little hiss.

Jensen leaned over on his knees, shutting his eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. This wasn't something real.

He knew those eyes. His mother's eyes.

He could hear voices outside, and a second later the heavy fall of rapid footsteps. Misha's scent was already present, as they were in the beta's home, but it came in fresh as the captain stood in the doorway.

"Alpha..."

Jensen didn't look up.

"Are you okay?" Misha asked, but it wasn't directed at Jensen. He heard the beta move over to the stranger.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tristan bit him..."

"Is the cub alright?"

"He seems okay... Just a little stunned. The hell is that guy's problem?"

Jensen lifted his head, opening his eyes blearily to look over at the other two ailure, finding both sets of eyes on him. Misha's brow was set, his expression dark.

"Six cubs. Six cubs from our last birthing season. I didn't even think--... I didn't want to think." The beta shook his head, disgust written clearly there. "They were yours, weren't they? How could you?"

"I needed them to be gone," Jensen defended. At the time he hadn't even thought. He didn't know why he'd done what he had, only that he'd needed those bodies to be somewhere else, to be forgotten.

"This is not our way, alpha!" Misha's hands curled into fists. "This is... I can't imagine you doing this, Jensen'hrao. This isn't who you are."

"He's--..." The stranger spoke up, turning to look up at Misha, his body still kneeling on the floor. "He's Tristan's father?"

Misha's lips pressed tight together, not looking away from Jensen. When his mouth opened to reply, though, Jensen found himself speaking first, covering whatever words Misha might have pushed out.

"No," Jensen said, voice insistant, incapable of taking this on. It would destroy him. "That's not my child."

Misha's expression fell, broke and went slack.

"That is not my child," Jensen repeated, sure of that much, pushing himself up to stand straight. He looked down at the stranger, so much younger than Jensen but with the same lines worn into his face. Jensen's children had been stillborn. They were dead. Dead and gone.

Whatever thing it was that the stranger had brought back, it wasn't part of Jensen. It wasn't his child and couldn't be.

It was just a punishment for his sins. An unliving reminder, raised from the raw earth to torture him.

Jensen felt a shiver run up his spine at the cub's wide teal eyes, felt himself shudder with cold, and he turned, brushing past Misha to leave the cabin.

The beta didn't try to stop him.

Chapter Text

Tristan's mother was very tall and very warm, and he talked a lot.

Tristan didn't know his mother's name, or that his mother even had a name at all. He wasn't even the name 'mother.' To Tristan, he was just the very concept of 'mother', and his fur was silvery grey like the mist that clung to the mountainside at dawn. Mother had to leave a lot of the time, and Tristan didn't really understand why, but he knew, as all children know, that it was for a good reason, because Mother would never do anything for a bad reason.

In Tristan's eyes, Mother could do no wrong.

At night, Mother would get up, when Tristan was on the edge of sleep, and creep out of their home in the tent. Tristan never knew when Mother got back, only that when he woke up in the morning Mother was there, Tristan tucked in against his belly.

Tristan would nurse and Mother would bathe him, and those were Tristan's favorite parts of the day, when all of Mother's attention was on him and him alone. Those times, nothing existed outside the two of them, and Mother would purr, and they were happy.

In the afternoon they would walk around the outside, and Tristan would chase flickering sunbeams and patches of light, scattering leaves in his wake, and he could hear Mother talking to him; out loud if Mother was tall, in his head if Mother was furry, but always talking. Tristan didn't understand any of the words yet, but he knew the tones, the way Mother's voice rose and fell, the way Mother would yell when Tristan was doing something he shouldn't, the way he would grumble when something was wrong, the way his voice would go soft when Tristan crawled in against him to sleep.

In the afternoons, Mother would watch him and Tristan would run as fast as the wind, he was sure, and they were happy.

At night, Mother would light the fire, making the shadows stretch and go long, reaching across the ground, and the light would be constantly moving, making the forest seem more alive than it was during the day. At night, Tristan understood why Mother got mad if he ran too far. The forest was full of things that never stopped moving, so tight with life that there wasn't a square inch to breathe, except for their home. Their home, where Mother would light the fire to keep away the shadows in the dark, where Mother, all knowing, all good, would keep Tristan safe and sound until the morning came.

And they were happy.

Then the world changed.

Mother changed their world, took away their tent and altered their home until it didn't look like home anymore, and Tristan was confused. Everything looked strange and unfamiliar, all the tokens of their life gone and their clearing empty, and then Mother picked Tristan up in his jaws and carried him away.

It didn't seem right. But Tristan knew it was, because it must be, because Mother was wise and good and Mother would always do what was right.

Except, they didn't have their tent anymore, and when the night time came there was no fire to fight back the things in the darkness, no canvas to hide away in, and Tristan curled as close to Mother as possible. But it was never close enough.

During the day, Tristan didn't get to play anymore or chase the wind. Instead he hung from Mother's mouth, his tail tucked and nape in Mother's mouth, watching the world go by from his stiff position. Every so often Mother would stop and put him down, and Tristan would look up to see Mother panting. The first time Mother put him down, Tristan saw a bug and turned to chase it, only to hear Mother say 'Tristan, no!' in that voice that Tristan knew meant he should stop whatever he was doing.

But he didn't want to.

Tristan didn't stop until mother chased him down, making a terrifying growling sound in his throat, and Tristan had never heard Mother make that sound before. That was the first time Tristan ever felt bad.

In the mornings, Tristan would nudge in and find his mother's teats, suckling and kneading for his breakfast, but Mother wouldn't sit up, wouldn't lean over and bathe him, and Tristan missed the feel of Mother's warm tongue, and the calming rumble of Mother's purr. Tristan missed the feeling of all of Mother's attention on him and only him, until the world narrowed down to just the two of them, Tristan the sum total of Mother's vision.

Instead, Mother would just roll to the side, baring his stomach and then go still.

Tristan didn't know why everything was changing, but he hated it.

The day he hated most was the day of the river. He'd seen the river before, back in the place with the tent and the fire and where they were happy, and he remembered Mother yelling a strange sound when Tristan had gone down to the edge of the water, but he'd never really understood why it was a bad thing until that day. The day Mother took them into the river.

At first, it wasn't so bad. Mother held him high above the water, and Tristan stared at it in wide eyed wonder, watching it rush just under his tucked tail, moving so fast and blue. It was dark, like the forest, but instead of the moving shadows it was covered in pictures, pictures of the sky and Mother and Tristan, and it babbled noisily as it slid past, rumbling in Tristan's ears. The only other noise was Mother, grunting as he waded through the water.

Then the whole world spun, the sky upending itself into the river and the river taking everything over. Tristan didn't know what was happening until the water was everywhere. He breathed like he did normally, but it didn't work like normal. Instead of feeling good it felt awful, and the water tried to get into him, tried to take him over too, the sky not enough for it, and it wanted Tristan too. The whole world was dark and cold and wet, and getting colder. Mother's teeth in his nape hurt, and Tristan tried to make a noise, but the water took even that, ate it up greedily, and Tristan knew that the water wanted him and Mother both, and would do anything to have them.

But somehow Mother was stronger than the water.

A second later they were up above it again, and Tristan felt himself fall and hit a rock, gagging until the water came out of him and he could breath the air again. He could hear Mother's claws on the rock, scratching deep gouges into it, and he was panting hard. Tristan looked over the edge of the rock and saw that the water had half of Mother, and was still trying to take Mother, pull Mother down into it. Tristan knew, absolutely, that the water wanted Mother. That it would steal Mother, and leave Tristan all alone on the rock. The water would wait until night, and Mother would be gone, and Tristan would be alone with the water and the shadows with nothing to protect him.

He didn't know any words, didn't know how to plead or even what the word meant, but he cried for his mother then, desperate mewls, begging Mother to stay, for Mother to not leave him all alone. It felt like it took so long for Mother to struggle up onto the rock, and Tristan could see how Mother was shaking, coat dripping wet and legs trembling. Mother started to lay down, but the rock wasn't big enough. Instead Mother picked him up again, and even though Tristan was terrified and calling out, Mother got back in the water, walking the rest of the way through the river to the other side.

Tristan understood then, understood well, why Mother warned him of the river.

Even Mother, as strong and smart as he was, almost lost to it.

After the river, Tristan thought they'd be okay. He tried to play with Mother, but Mother would just lay on the ground. At first, Mother would make unhappy noises and complain, giving Tristan shoves with his nose, but after awhile, Mother would just lay there, barely moving. Tristan tried running off like Mother hated, but Mother wouldn't chase after him. Mother wouldn't even yell, and his smell changed, became sick and weak.

Tristan didn't even want to explore the forest like he once had.

Every step away from Mother was a step that Mother wouldn't come to save him, if the creatures in the wood found him. Tristan started to dream that he would get lost and that Mother wouldn't come for him. The forest would eat him up, drag him in, and Mother would just lie there and let it happen.

Even Mother's milk began to taste strange and different. It became thin and bubbled in Tristan's mouth, and even after he suckled for a long time, he still felt hungry. Mother was going away, piece by piece, and Tristan didn't know why. Mother was going away like the clearing had gone, and the fire, and the tent. Tristan missed the time when they'd been happy.

Then one night Mother didn't stop walking. He took them into the shadows and just kept walking, and Tristan began to cry, because Mother was taking them to the dark place. There was no fighting the shadows anymore, and Mother knew that. He was taking Tristan with him, letting the shadows have them because there was no where else for them to go, and Mother wouldn't leave Tristan alone. Tristan just didn't know why Mother wouldn't run. He cried for Mother to run away, to run in the other direction and take them away, but Mother was silent.

There was no voice in his head, or in the world. Mother was silent and smelled of sickness.

That night, Tristan was sure that the sun would never rise again.

When it did, and Mother came out the other side of the trees, the world was a whole different place, and Tristan understood suddenly that Mother had been taking them away from the shadows -- that the only way to escape them was to get to the other side. Mother had braved the shadows to get Tristan to safety.

And then Mother fell.

Tristan felt the world tumble, like he was in the river again, but instead of water his feet met with the ground. He stumbled, then righted himself.

Something large was looking down at Mother. Mother wasn't moving at all. The large monster was sniffing mother and Mother wasn't doing anything to fight back.

Mother was defenseless. The shadows had taken everything from him.

Tristan ran forward and swatted at the thing's nose, growling when the thing reared its head back.

'Feisty little thing, hmm?' the thing had asked, and Tristan didn't know what any of the sounds meant, but it wasn't Mother's voice in his head. He growled and hissed in response. The big thing just leaned down and picked him up like Mother did, and Tristan twisted and jerked himself, trying to get down, but the thing was too strong, too strong for him.

Only Mother was strong enough.

Tristan called out for Mother, sharp and loud, and he knew Mother would come. Mother always came when he made that sound. He cried out again and again, and he knew Mother was coming. The thing carried him under some trees, walking over the leaves, and it would be sorry. Tristan didn't know where the thing was taking him, but Mother would be mad at the thing when he saw it had Tristan, that it was taking Tristan away. Tristan cried out again, louder this time, because maybe Mother couldn't hear him. Nothing could stop Mother from coming, not when Tristan really needed him, and he cried again.

Except nothing happened. Tristan kept calling, and he knew he was doing it right -- it was the same noise he'd made when he'd gotten his paw stuck, and when he'd gotten lost that one afternoon when he'd gone exploring. He kept calling and calling, but the thing just carried him away and set him down on a blanket, and Tristan immediately turned to look, to see Mother coming for him--

But there was nothing but the forest.

Mother wasn't there.

-----

At first, Tristan ignored the other kittens.

They made noises like him and looked like him, but Tristan didn't want anything to do with them. The sun was coming up, the world becoming warm, but mother wasn't there. He couldn't smell Mother, couldn't see him. He was alone, and no matter how loudly he called, Mother wouldn't come to him.

Tristan didn't know if Mother couldn't come or wouldn't, and he didn't know which was worse. He didn't understand a world where Mother couldn't do something, and he didn't want to be in one where Mother didn't want him anymore.

So at first, he would have nothing to do with the kittens or their mother, a big red cat that smelled like sun warmed dust.

But as time passed he got hungrier and hungrier, and he was too young to sulk long. The big red one had teats full of milk, and she nosed him in like Mother did, and Tristan remembered how hungry he'd been for so long, and when he tasted the red one's milk it was thick and rich, and he suckled as hard as he could, eating greedily. When he was done he pressed his face into warm fur that didn't smell of sickness, and a long tongue moved over him. He heard a rumbling purr.

But it wasn't Mother's purr, or Mother's coat with Mother's scent.

And it just made him miss Mother more.

In the afternoon, they played, and Tristan forgot about Mother for awhile. The air was warm and the ground shaded by the full trees, and it reminded Tristan of the clearing, and all the afternoons that had come before, when he and Mother were happy and things were good. When he was chasing the other kittens, he forgot about all the bad things that had happened, and even forgot that Mother was missing, his young mind not yet developed enough to concentrate on the same thing for such a long time.

He remembered it all instantly, though, the moment he heard Mother say: "Tristan."

Tristan didn't think he'd ever been so happy.

Mother's arms were strong around him and his skin was warm. Mother still smelled like sickness and hurt, but Mother had come back -- he hadn't left Tristan. Not forever.

Once Tristan knew Mother was safe, he enjoyed the afternoon even more. He continued playing with the other cubs, and nursed from the red one, all with the knowledge that his mother was nearby, and that his mother wasn't going anywhere. All the greedy hands of the forest and the river had tried to take them, but they had run beyond those things now. They were somewhere safe.

At least, Tristan had thought so, until he'd been woken up from his late afternoon nap by a sudden noise, something large rushing by. He looked up from where he was curled with the other kittens, searching the area for some sign of what had caused the noise, but he didn't see anything. Then he heard a thump! from inside the cabin, and he felt his little hackles go up.

Mother was in there.

When he first tried to go to Mother, the red one held him back, kept him with the other cubs. But she was distracted, looking around for someone, and Tristan waited for the right moment and snuck off just as sure as he had back in the old clearing, whenever Mother told him to stay put. He crept up the stairs to the cabin, then shuffled in, crawling down under a chair to watch what was happening.

A man had Mother pinned to the wall, and they were yelling at each other. Actually, the stranger was doing most of the yelling. Mother sounded angry but confused. Then the man thumped Mother back against the wall again, and Tristan's ears went down.

The man was trying to hurt Mother. The man was trying to take Mother away, just like the water and the shadows and the sickness -- but unlike all those things, the man was something Tristan could bite.

When he sank his teeth hard into the man's foot, Tristan tasted blood, tangy and metallic on his tongue, before the foot jerked back in response, instantly, and Tristan yowled when it hit his nose, and he was sent tumbling across the cabin floor. He shook his head, feeling a little dizzy, more from the kick than the tumble, but before he could quite get his bearings, Mother was there with him, picking him up. Tristan leaned in, taking strength from Mother's warmth, Mother's large hands cradling him easily.

Tristan looked at the stranger, who was watching Mother, and hissed. He didn't like the other man looking at Mother when Mother was still sick like this and hurting.

Mother pulled Tristan close, and he heard Mother yelling something. Mother still smelled weak, but that weakness wasn't in Mother's voice, or in his grasp. It felt like a long time ago, like back when the world was fuzzy and dim and the only thing that Tristan knew was Mother's scent.

Tristan hadn't realized how long Mother had been gone -- there, with him, but gone -- until he felt Mother coming back. It wasn't just earlier that morning, when Mother hadn't come when Tristan called, and it hadn't just been the last few days when Mother was so still and tired. It hadn't been the shadows taking Mother. Mother had been going away before.

Even back in the clearing, where they'd been happy. Tristan had been happy. Mother had been fading out beyond the fire light, not the invincible force that Tristan had always imagined.

Tristan saw the man leave, Mother talking with another man, but their tones were calm and unthreatening and Mother was relaxing a little around Tristan's body. Tristan leaned in against his mother's chest and purred, shutting his eyes in contentment, more feeling the rumble of Mother's voice against him than hearing it, and Tristan shut his eyes.

Mother's fingers moved without thought through Tristan's fur, and Tristan had missed the sensation so much -- being the center of Mother's world. He would do anything to keep it that way.

Nothing else mattered, and he understood now. Mother wouldn't leave him.

Mother had brought them here, so that they could be happy together.

Chapter Text

Jared felt Tristan wriggle against his chest, fur brushing over skin, and he rubbed behind the kitten's ears.

"Trying to defend me, were you?" he asked softly, leaning down to nuzzle. The kitten smelled like the forest, his coat sun warmed and mouth milky from nursing. Jared felt an irrational rush of affection and pride at the thought of the little kitten trying to pick a fight for Jared's sake, but it didn't mitigate his worry. The cub was all of ten pounds, and Jared couldn't stomach the idea of something bad happening to him. After such a rough start to life, Tristan deserved a good future. It was why Jared had brought him here, after all.

To a father who wanted nothing to do with him, apparently.

Jared couldn't imagine not wanting a kid like Tristan. Although, Jared still had some problems thinking of the kitten as a "kid" -- not used to children being furry and having four legs. He could already tell that that wasn't the case in the pride, given that everyone grew up from kitten to adult, and was used to seeing that. Jared had grown up with humans almost exclusively. The only other werecats he'd ever known were his brothers, and the three of them had been unaware they were anything other than human for most of their lives. To Jared, babies looked like tiny, pudgy humans. It was hard for him to understand that even though Tristan was a tiny ball of fur now, one day he'd grow into a thinking, sentient adult. That he would be as aware and intelligent as Jared was.

The thought made Jared's mind flash back, wondering if he and his brothers had ever been this small, this adorable.

"You alright?" Misha asked, crouching down with that too-sympathetic look. Jared resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He could tell the other werecat wanted to reach out and touch him. According to Misha, it was a normal thing, but Jared couldn't help but wonder if the guy was just a big weirdo.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Weirdo or not, Misha was pretty much his only friend here.

"And the cub?"

"Yeah, like I said...think he was mostly just stunned." Jared glanced down at Tristan, watching the kitten shift and move as he kneaded at nothing, purring away like a motor. Jared kissed the top of Tristan's head, and the cub chirped in surprise. "I think he thinks he's this big ferocious monster. At least, that's what he sees in his head."

Misha smiled warmly.

"Of course. He saw his mother under threat."

"I'm not his mom," Jared replied instantly, head snapping up. "I'm a guy."

Misha's smile melted away into a frown, expression becoming pinched.

"...let me get you your clothes. I should probably take the opportunity to show you around pride ground."

The other werecat(ailure, Jared reminded himself) pushed himself to his feet, padding away with that innate cat grace that Jared had never seemed to possess. He couldn't help compare everyone here to himself and his brothers. They'd all always been strong and fast, but they'd never had this otherworldly quality that the Blue Ridge cats had -- human, but not quite. Jared and his brothers had always been humans who sometimes looked like cats. These people were clearly cats who sometimes looked like humans.

When Misha returned, he had Jared's pack in one hand and Jared's clothes, cleaned and folded, in the other. The pack was empty, also having been cleaned, rinsed of the mud and dirt that had clung to it from the journey.

"Thanks," Jared said, gently setting Tristan down and reaching for his clothes. There wasn't really much of a place to change, and Jared looked around awkwardly for a few seconds before realizing that Misha wasn't going to pick up his cues, and he had to direct the other man to turn his back before Jared took off the blanket and started getting dressed.

"So, who was that guy?" he asked as he pulled on his pants, unable to keep the sour tone out of his voice. Tristan's father.

"His name is Jensen."

"He seems like a real upstanding fellow."

"He's our alpha. Our leader."

"What?!" Jared almost toppled over onto the mattress on the floor, and he hopped a couple of steps before managing to regain his balance. "Your leader?! He tried to kill his own kids! He did kill most of them! How the hell did he get elected?!"

"No!" Misha said, turning around despite Jared's request for him not to, clearly seeing no problem with this. Jared managed to get his pants zipped closed just in time. "It wasn't like that. Jensen didn't try to kill them."

"He put them in a basket and sent them down the river."

"Yes, and that goes against all our customs, but they were already dead when he placed them in the basket. At least...he believed them to be. We all did. They were stillborn."

Jared slowed his motions, shirt dangling from one hand as he took that in. It was something he'd thought about a lot in the last two months -- how those kittens ended up in that basket, washing up against the river's edge. Back home, he'd heard about irresponsible people who didn't look after their pets, who, when confronted with an unwanted litter, would just put them in a sack and send them to the bottom of a lake. It was the unavoidable parallel he'd drawn, and conclusion that he'd come to, but now that he thought about it, the basket didn't make any sense. It was more like a boat grave, carefully arranged and chosen so that it wouldn't sink. So that it would carry the bodies of the dead away.

Jared winced.

He could understand the grief of a guy who who'd been through something like that. Someone who'd had to say goodbye to kids he'd never even gotten to meet. It made him breath a little easier, if he was honest. Knowing that Tristan's parents hadn't tried to kill him.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"He still--...I guess that answers my next question."

Misha raised a curious eyebrow.

" 'Why is he such a massive prick.'"

Misha huffed quietly, but without much humor.

"He's been through a lot, these last two months," the other werecat replied, looking somewhere else and at nothing in particular. "He's a much better man than this, he just--... He doesn't know how to deal with this."

"Well, here's a clue: don't look at your son and say he's not your kid." Jared tried to keep the note of anger out of his voice, he really did. It was just difficult.

The guy had survived his kids being born dead, and Jared couldn't imagine how hard that had to have been, but Jared kept looking across the room at Tristan, who was sitting unevenly on the floor, watching Jared with big, unknowing teal eyes. Fully innocent, and just in need of a parent. Jared couldn't help but scowl.

Misha winced at his words.

"I know, and...you're right. He shouldn't have said that. But you have to understand..."

Jared waited for awhile, but Misha just seemed to be shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Understand...?"

Misha sighed.

"Jensen'hrao is my friend. My oldest friend, and my best friend. And he is a good person. I know that. He's just... He's broken right now. Please. Give him time?"

Jared took a deep breath and pulled his shirt on over his head, stretching it down over his torso.

"Yeah, I mean... I brought Tristan back here to find people that could look after him. His parents would be a pretty good start, now that I know no one was attempting to drown him." He reached out for his shoes, tugging the worn old sneakers on, finger hooked into the heel as he did so. He straightened when he was done, putting his hands on his hips. "Alright. So you wanted to show me around?"

"Yes," Misha nodded firmly, smiling genuinely, if a bit wearied from the events of the morning. Jared could tell the other man had a lot on his mind. "Come, I will-- Actually, it would probably be best if you shifted into your other form."

Jared paused and stared at him. Then he threw his arms out to either side.

"But you just had me get dressed!"

Misha rubbed the back of his head, his expression pondering.

"Yes, I suppose that was a little backwards..."

Jared threw his hands up in the air with a sound of frustration and began taking his shirt back off.

-----

Tristan seemed determined to stick close by Jared's side, despite Jared's urging the cub to stay with the other litter, so Jared found himself doing his best not to step on an over eager kitten who kept twisting and winding through his legs as they walked.

After stumbling over him for the fifth time, Jared let out a frustrated 'Tristan!' and the cub relented, moving to walk more evenly at Jared's side.

'I thought it might do you some good to meet other fertiles,' Misha spoke up, and he led Jared over the expansive area of pride ground. Everywhere they went Jared saw more cats, in both forms, going about their day, and more carved out sections of civilization in the wood. The pride was as big as Jared had ever heard about.

He wrinkled his nose, though, at Misha's words.

'Do you have to call me that? It sounds so...' He shook his head, not coming up with a sufficiently descriptive word.

'It is our name for your kind.' Misha sounded just as baffled over Jared's objections as Jared would have expected. 'Is there something wrong with it?'

'It just... I'm a guy. I don't like being referred to as fertile. Virile? Sure. Anyways, how did you even know that I was...that?'

Misha huffed a little, a wheezing cat laugh.

'How would I not? You have no frill, and you're smaller than any dominant I've ever seen.'

'Oh...' Jared murmured, feeling himself flush underneath his fur. That answered why he'd always looked different from his brothers. His parents had always assured him that he'd grow a little mohawk of fur up his neck, just like Brandon and Daniel, but it had never happened. It had always struck him as odd(and unfair) that he was just as big as his brothers in human form, but in their cat forms both of them outweighed Jared significantly.

He didn't like the idea that it was immediately and visually apparent to anyone who looked at him that he was what he was. A 'fertile', or what have you. Men weren't supposed to lactate, or go into heat. Humans didn't really go into heat, but he'd mostly gotten over the 'I'm not really human' thing. The 'I'm not really male' bit was harder to swallow.

Misha treated it like it was no big thing, and that still bothered Jared.

'Don't you find it weird that I'm a guy?'

'Why should I?' Misha looked over at him, curious.

'Because aren't...you know, "fertiles" girls?'

Misha just looked befuddled again, staring at him for a good few steps before shaking his head.

'Even though I know you were raised by humans, the things you believe to be true can't help but shock me. I cannot conceive of a fertile not knowing how important and--...In any case, no, I don't find it surprising. There are both male and female fertiles, just as there are male and female dominants. To us, the gender is just a part of how you look, nothing more. I know that it is different in other animals, but for you, it is perfectly natural to be both a male and a giver of life.'

Giver of life. Jared shuddered. He'd always suspected, what with the whole 'heat' thing, but he'd always kind of hoped that he was just a genetic freak, or that the heat was just some kind of vestigial thing. You know, like the nipples that turned out to be totally not vestigial.

He swallowed hard, feeling queasy.

'So I can get pregnant.'

'Yes.' Misha said it like it was no big thing. Like it was something good. Jared just felt like he was going to throw up.

He glanced down at Tristan, seeing the tiny ridge running up the back of the kitten's neck and over his forehead. As he got older, Jared knew that ridge would fluff up, grow into a mohawk like the one that ran up Misha's neck. Jared didn't know what to feel at that -- relief that his kitten would never have to go through what Jared went through, or jealousy of the same.

'Stop,' Misha said, turning to face Jared, and Jared blinked, turning to do the same. Misha had a stern expression on his face.

'Whatever it is you're thinking,' Misha continued. 'It's wrong.'

'How do you know what I'm thinking?' Jared asked, sullen.

'Because I have heard what you've said before, and besides, you have the worst poker face. You broadcast everything you're feeling.'

Jared just blinked, trying to imagine Misha playing poker anywhere.

'You think that somehow it's a bad thing that you are fertile, and I cannot stomach the idea of you continuing to think such a thing. Fertiles are precious. Rare. They are our mothers, the givers of life and the ones who give of themselves to continue the ailure. They are sacred. There is no dominant who would be ashamed to honor a fertile. We worship the fertile. It is our job to hunt for you, to provide for you, to see you safe and whole and happy. To us, the fertiles are our most honored members of our pride, and I can't stand to see you thinking that it is a curse. You are a part of a beautiful heritage.'

Jared felt a little stunned by Misha's words, trying to take them all in, but still having trouble believing them. He'd grown up in the American Midwest, gone to your average American high school(until he dropped out and ran away), and had your average American upbringing before the whole 'werecat' kerfuffle. Misha's speech was nice, and it sounded lovely, but it couldn't defeat the idea of masculinity that Jared had carved into his psyche.

'That's... It's flattering and all, but it's just not who I want to be. Where I come from... With humans, guys don't have babies or go into heat, or...lactate.' He flushed deeper under his fur. 'I just want to be a guy. A normal, non-lactating guy.'

Misha snorted and shook his head, as if in disgust.

'Less than a quarter of all kittens born are fertiles. Most ailure are like me -- dominants. Unable to bear young. Without you, without the fertile, we would die out, as strong and brave as we are. In the stories of our people, Urrou was one of the finest hunters in the First Pride, but when the winter came, and many lives were lost, the pride knew it would die out. They didn't have enough hunters to take down the large prey they needed to survive, and the ability to make new life didn't yet exist. So Urrou took all the muscles he'd built as a wily hunter and turned them into a second belly. He took all his cunning and turned it into a needle. He even took his own frill, and turned it into thread. He swallowed the needle and thread, down into his second belly, and learned how to bind new life inside of himself, taking the parts that his mate gave him, and sewing them together into nine new bodies. He chose to change his form, to take all the strength and power he had as a hunter, and sacrificed it to save his pride. He was the first fertile, and to us, he is the ultimate symbol of pride unity and of family.'

Misha paused, and took a step forward. Jared tensed, still wary of having another so close to him after so long alone, and still used to the human custom of not just walking up to people's faces like that, but instead to dodging or turning away, he steeled himself, not looking comfortable, exactly, but also not putting up a fight.

He almost winced when Misha began to bathe him, running his tongue against Jared's face. Jared clenched his eyes shut, like a kid getting his face cleaned by grandma but it...felt kind of nice. It felt nice just to have contact with another living being, besides Tristan, and it felt good to have someone actually wanting to look after him.

Jared had forgotten what that felt like. He'd forgotten that he was only nineteen, and that if he hadn't run away he'd be home for summer from his first year at college, his mom serving them dinner and his dad helping him fix up some cheap ass car he'd bought with the money he'd been saving up for years. The money he'd ended up spending on the tent, two years ago.

Jared felt himself beginning to relent under the steady pressure, felt himself beginning to bend to it. His eased down, muscles untensing, and he found himself lowering his body down to the rocky ground, laying with front legs extended and his head pressed forward close to Misha. The older cat was bathing the top of his head and the back of his neck, and Jared, for once, didn't fight it. He didn't know he'd missed the sensation of touch, of being looked after, so badly.

'I can't stand to see a fertile thinking of themselves as you do... You don't ever have to bear young. If you so choose, you may forsake your nature and become a hunter. It's not unheard of. We have two fertiles who have chosen the life of a hunter in our pride. But even so, I can't take hearing you speak of yourself as if you aren't a gift. What you carry in you is rare to our people. Rare and precious, and as a dominant, ever since I was old enough to pounce, I knew my job was to protect and care for the fertiles. You are human raised, and you may chose to go back to humans yet... But please, stop thinking of yourself as anything less than sacred.'

Jared didn't know if he could promise that. The idea that he had some kind of freaky womb wasn't one that was going to just pass under the radar, even with Misha's kind words and kind tongue. He couldn't accept that he was anything besides a perfectly normal human guy, and even though he'd gotten something special out of nursing Tristan, he was still kind of glad that he'd stopped producing milk.

With all the things that had happened to him, he felt like he had no control over his body, like he had no say in what it was or it wasn't, and the feeling brought back a roiling sickness, something that still made his insides churn.

But even if he couldn't promise that, he could, at least, recognize that Misha and the ailure of this pride, had different customs and beliefs. And to call himself something wrong, even if he still thought it, would be like spitting in the face of those beliefs, and in the face of all the other fertiles that the pride held so dear.

'...I'll try,' Jared replied honestly, not sure he could change what he saw in himself, but knowing that he at least wanted some of the comfort that Misha had offered him. It was the first time anyone had ever told him anything about werecat mythology -- or that it even existed. Jared still saw himself as a human, but he never would be. He couldn't stand the idea of being torn between his conceptions of himself and reality of himself for the rest of his life.

Even if this felt like someone else's culture, it hit him with a bit of shock that it was his culture. The one he'd never been a part of, before.

'Good,' Misha replied calmly, tongue moving over Jared's swiveled ear, and then paused. 'You know... I have an idea. Come. There's something I want to show you.'

The other werecat moved away, hopping up a few stones of an embankment, and glancing back at Jared. The younger werecat raised his head, shaking himself a little to break out of his stupor. He glanced to the side at Tristan, who'd just been watching the whole exchange, his gaze curious but uncomprehending. Jared couldn't help but smile a little.

Tristan would grow up knowing where he came from, and the stories of his people, knowing his heritage and his place in his pride.

Even if he was a little envious, Jared was glad for that. He wanted Tristan to have a better life than himself.

He gave Tristan a quick lick of his tongue, before taking the cub's nape in his mouth and following Misha up the steep rise.

Chapter Text

Misha guided Jared up across pride ground, in front of a much larger building at the top of the hill. Jared peered at it curiously as they passed, the structure having two stories and, unlike the cabins, the occasional window. Jared tried to get a look inside while they walked by, but the sun was shining brightly, and the building was too dark inside to see anything. Misha walked on, moving into the forest and past the treeline, paws padding easily over the firm rock as it transitioned away to broken up leaves, and finally to the forest floor -- dirt and pine needles, the deciduous mixed in with the conifers, an ever changing patchwork quilt of plant life across the North Carolina mountainside.

Tristan began to become a little more comfortable as they moved, a little less worried about leaving Jared's side, and his curiosity was clearly eating at him once they entered the forest. He began to wander around, jolting off to pounce on something that only he saw, or bounding around to the backside of tree trunks. Jared kept an eye out for him, giving quiet growls or short calls whenever Tristan went too far away for comfort. Jared was grateful to see that the cub was better at listening than he had been before. Jared remembered clearly trying to chase the kitten down, multiple times, back when they went on walks around their campsite.

While they walked, Jared couldn't help but think about all the things Misha had told him -- and more, trying to overlay that information over his own life, trying to explain all the things that had bothered him in his youth, and all the questions he'd asked that'd never had answers. Jared wondered if Tristan's adventurousness had to do with his nature; a dominant, Misha had called it. Both of Jared's brothers had been so called 'dominants', and Jared remembered their youth, how their mother had always been encouraging Jared to go out and play with his brothers, or to go into town with them. It wasn't as if Jared hadn't enjoyed playing -- he was a playful person by nature, and social too. He'd had plenty of friends at school, and always been eager to talk to them or introduce himself to others. He was, actually, known for being a bit pushy, inserting himself into other people's lives, insisting upon friendship.

Despite that, though, he'd been rare to go to parties or out on dates. He'd been considered a bit of a homebody, preferring to be in his house, with his bed, and his things, and the security of his four walls. He wondered, now, if that was maybe something to do with his status as a fertile. If the reason he and his brothers had been so different in disposition, in likes and dislikes, had to do with the fact that while they were all brothers, they had essentially different natures, at their cores. He remembered Daniel and Brandon always going out, Daniel with a different girl every week and Brandon always with Sophie, and Jared at home on the phone or watching TV with his parents.

It had driven his mom nuts during the summer. Jared had also been a pretty active kid, and that usually meant that the kitchen or living room ended up destroyed while he'd followed his mom around the house for socialization, chattering on about whatever was on his mind.

One of the most enduring images of his childhood was his mom standing by the doorway, holding the screen door and pointing insistently outside, a frazzled look on her face. Jared almost smiled a little. He'd driven that poor woman up the wall.

His smile faded quickly, though, sweet memories now somewhat bitter, because it wasn't like he was going home again.

As they made their way through the forest, Jared noticed that they were on something of a trail -- not trimmed and kempt like a human walking path, but plants trod down by the passing of many feet(or paws), and the local flora having learned to grow the other way. Misha paced ahead of him, leading them towards a more open, sunny area, where Jared could hear the rushing rapids of the river. He blinked curiously, trying to peer around the trees, but he didn't have to wait long. Misha jumped up onto a rock, Jared picking Tristan up to follow, setting the kitten back down on the stone as Misha headed back out from the trees.

Once they'd past the trunks, Jared inhaled quickly, the sun clearly illuminating the edge of the forest, and, more importantly, the huge cliff that dropped down not four feet away from their paws. Far below them, the forest continued on for a little while before running into the river, which swept around a bend in the land and back towards the base of pride ground, far behind and below them.

'Come,' Misha said gently, looking back at him from what appeared to be a path in the stone, a ridge trailing up along the mountain.

'Tristan,' Jared said seriously, looking at the kitten. 'Stay very close to me.'

Tristan blinked up at him, that 'Okay, I love you bye bye' look that meant he didn't understand a goddamned word Jared had said, and Jared snarled a little, stepping forward to pick the cub up in his mouth. Tristan whined in frustration, twisting around, clearly wanting to run, to explore and play, but Jared didn't trust the cub to not play his way right off the edge of the cliff.

After a little while Tristan settled and Jared plodded on, following the swish of Misha's tail up around the bend, continuing higher along the ridge. Jared felt his heart thumping away in his chest at how close to the edge they came, multiple times. Misha navigated it all with an easy grace, no doubt or worry to him, while Jared stumbled around like a kid who'd just drunk the spiked punch. The ridge narrowed and widened uncaringly, carrying them along the mountain, and the sun, lowering itself in the sky, set the rock aflame with pinks and oranges, casting the shadows of the werecats into bright relief against the rock.

Eventually the path began to lower, dipping down and into a cavity in the mountain, Misha hopping down from the ledge, leaping from rock to rock, Jared following uneasily. His heartbeat settled down as they moved away from the edge and deeper into the mountain range, the threat of a tumbling death left behind. They came across a mountain stream that was headed down towards the river, and Jared set Tristan on the ground again, sighing in defeat as the cub almost immediately threw himself face first into the water, warbling and growling when the current proceeded to bowl him over.

The kitten caught up with them as Jared walked on, though he still occasionally split off to investigate something or attempt to get himself killed.

Misha led them along the treeline, where the forest crept up the opposite side of the mountain, the path winding around between the trees and the rock face, and it eventually got to the point where Jared couldn't really see much of anything except the path in front of them. When it did eventually widen again, they walked out into a large clearing, the trees kept at bay by the stone ground. In front of them was a high rock face, split down the center to create a natural corridor.

'Where are we?' Jared asked, moving up to Misha's side as he peered around curiously. Tristan trotted forward to sit between Jared's forepaws.

'Somewhere special. A place that I hope will show you what your kind mean to this pride. Come.' Misha nodded his head to the side. 'I will take you as far as I can.'

He stepped forward again, walking over to the corridor, the rocks making the passageway dark and shadowed, though Jared could see the sunlight further away at the end. What he didn't see, though, until the last minute, was the massive creature guarding the entrance.

When the ailure shifted in the shadows, getting up, Jared actually jumped back in surprise.

It was the biggest werecat Jared had ever seen. Ever. Bigger even than Misha. It was a huge beast, with a dark black coat, blending in with the shadows despite the speckle of white and grey dotting its muzzle and petering down its neck. Jared could see a few thin stripes where there was no fur -- old scars -- across the werecat's shoulders, and up along its neck, its mohawk was peppered white and black, and long enough that it swept over to one side. Jared stepped back in trepidation, not ashamed to say he found the grizzled looking warrior intimidating, but when the other werecat's eyes settled on Jared, there was no violence there.

'Captain,' it greeted, nodding to Misha.

'Jeffrey,' Misha returned, smiling. 'This is Jared... He's the stranger you heard about.'

'I surmised,' Jeffrey purred out, and looked back over at Jared, then down at the kitten hiding behind Jared's paws. His muddy hazel eyes flicked back up to Jared's face. 'Welcome. I hope you've been enjoying your time with our pride.'

'I, uh,' Jared replied articulately, then shook himself. 'Yeah, I mean, everyone's been pretty great so far.'

Except for your kind-of-an-asshole alpha, he didn't add, but immediately felt bad for even thinking it. Even as protective as he was of Tristan, Jared still had to admit that the alpha had his reasons for being so fucked up. Jared wasn't prepared to say he liked the guy, but he could at least extend his sympathies.

'Jeff, if you would -- take Jared inside?'

The darker cat bobbed his head in a nod, and Jared glanced at Misha curiously. The captain was the only person he knew here, and the one who'd been the closest thing to a friend to him.

'Dominants aren't allowed in this space,' Misha explained gently, but he leaned in to butt his head against Jared's, as if he could sense Jared's insecurity -- and maybe he could. Jared couldn't say he didn't appreciate it, even as adverse as he was to the idea of his being a fertile. 'Jeffrey guards the fertile -- they will allow him through the passageway, but I can't go. Besides, I must deal with everything happening at pride ground.'

'And Tristan? What about him?' Jared asked, glancing down at the cub, who was still just a child, but very obviously one that would grow to be a dominant.

'Young cubs are allowed inside,' Jeffrey responded, his voice a grumbly purr in Jared's head.

'We wouldn't separate a mother from his cub,' Misha added, and Jared could just see the smirk on the other cat's face. He growled shortly at Misha for the 'mother' comment, who took no mind of it, looking over to the other dominant. 'Jeff -- can I have a word?'

The captain jerked his head to the side and Jeff did a quick check of his post before moving away. In motion, Jared could fully appreciate the hulking size of the beast, easily twice Jared's size as a cat, and the patter of scars over his flank just made him even more intimidating. Jared felt himself instinctively flinch back, despite the fact that there'd been no hint of aggression. He settled on the bare rock while the two betas moved away to talk, Tristan crawling his way in between Jared's forepaws.

'How much you wanna bet this is a conversation about me?' he asked the cub, not expecting an answer.

Tristan looked up at him and 'marp'ed.

'Yeah, that's what I thought...' Jared sighed.

Whatever the captain had to tell his inferior, it didn't take long, the large black cat walking over to Jared while Misha lithely hopped away. Jared started a little, sitting up quickly as he watched Misha leave, still a little leery of being left out on a limb like this, but Misha just looked over at him with a self-assured nod, before disappearing into the undergrowth of the woods.

'Are you alright?' Jeffrey's gruff voice purred, deep and just as intimidating as his form, if not for the warm affection that curled through it.

'Yeah, I'm okay,' Jared replied, doing his best not to stutter.

Jeffrey gave him an easy smile, as much as he could as a cat, and Jared tried to relax a little. The guy seemed pretty laid back, despite the fact that he was the size of a mack truck. It surprised Jared a little. He sort of expected someone as big as that, with badass scars like that, to be sterner, harsher. But Jeff moved without any stiffness, without any malice or judgment. He just turned and strolled into the opening in the rock, his lumbering pace leading the way into the shadows, and Jared took a deep breath and followed.

It was cooler in the shade, the two rock faces stretching high up above him. They were close enough to each other that the corridor was relatively narrow, leaving only enough space for two ailure to walk abreast. Jared could hear Tristan tripping along behind him, looking up either side at the high walls, a few roots sticking out from the stone. The path went on for about twenty feet before the rock gave way, opening up into a space cut into the mountain -- an open area, lined with rock walls on all side. Jared let out a little gasp as they stepped out into the sunlight.

The walled area was bright, no trees hanging over to block out the light. At the far end of the quarry was a waterfall flowing down over the rocks and separating halfway down, a huge stone jutting out into it, creating an island in the center, two streams to either side that eventually joined back up. The main stream ran straight down the center of the quarry, all the way to another rock face, where it cut into the mountain and disappeared into an underground passage, the entrance to which had a grill placed over it, bolts drilled into the mountain, obviously to keep any overly curious kittens from getting swept away. A small bridge had been built over the main stream, connecting the two sides of the quarry.

Along all the rock walls ivy and plants were crawling in, dangling down, green vines twisting with the errant wildflower, bursting in purples and yellows. One side of the quarry was left in shadow, the sun's light coming in at a steep enough angle to hide it away, a few werecats laying in the cool or by the water. The further side was bathed bright orange, ailure lounging there blinking their eyes against it, tails twitching lazily in the warmth.

There was a loud splash, and Jared's gaze jerked to see two ailure sitting near the waterfall, watching a group of kittens pouncing and playing in the shallows. All around the quarry there were cats, walking or lounging, talking to one another or sleeping, only one or two cubs not in the water with the others, instead curled up with an adult.

What stood out the most, though, was the rock protruding from the waterfall, cutting through the water and dividing it, carved into the shape of a huge ailure, facing outwards towards the quarry, its paws settled on the island and the back of its neck and chest blending into unfinished stone.

It was more than just impressive -- it was idyllic, a tiny little paradise carved into the side of the mountain, walled off and protected, safety on all sides. Jared saw that all the ailure inside were like him -- smaller, "frill"-less. Fertiles. Just as Misha had said, this place was for them alone, and Jared couldn't help but notice that even the carving in the waterfall didn't have any frill running over its forehead.

'What is this place...?' he asked, standing agape.

'It was a gift, generations ago, from the dominants of our pride to their fertiles. A place for the fertile alone, a place of safety and comfort for them,' Jeff answered.

A gift. A little utopia, cut and styled and crafted -- and, obviously, up kept -- by most of the pride, which that same 'most' couldn't use. Misha had said that the fertile only represented a quarter of all ailure, after all, such a smaller portion of their community, and it amazed Jared to think that all of this would be done just because people could have babies. It was a wholly different attitude than what Jared was used to.

'Jeff,' a warm voice interrupted his thoughts, his staring, and Jared turned to see another fertile emerge from the corridor. She was smaller than Jared, body built slender and lithe, and her coat was one of the most beautiful Jared had ever seen, so blonde that it glowed almost gold in the sunlight. The other fertile stepped over to Jeff, butting her head up under his chin, purring as the dominant lavished attention on her.

From the outside, as an observer, Jared could better understand what Misha had been trying to tell him. From Jared's very human perspective, that kind of closeness, touching and caressing, was innately romantic or sexual, but watching Jeff and the newcomer now, it was blatantly obvious that it was nothing of the sort. It was amazing to watch the dark, grizzled, older dominant acting like a cuddly kitten, nuzzling in and gently bathing the fertile, but Jared could see it for exactly what Misha had been talking about -- worship. The care of a larger, more powerful creature, for something smaller and more tender than him, and Jared had a strong suspicion that Jeff greeted all his fertiles in exactly the same manner. It was the same way that Misha had reached to touch Jared's chin, automatic and assuming. Not to hit on him or make him uncomfortable, but rather, the opposite.

Jared couldn't say he was ready to accept that kind of affection yet, but he also couldn't deny how much the image appealed to him, to have people around him ready to dole out warmth and touch. That close sense of family that made these cats so comfortable in each other's space.

'Who's this?' the golden fertile asked, her tail thumping lightly on the ground. She was sitting in the lee of Jeff's body, the bigger cat's head resting on top of her's.

'This is Jared -- the newcomer.'

'The one that showed up this morning?' she asked, moving her head back in surprise, looking at Jeff.

'The very same. The captain brought him here -- perhaps you could show him around.'

'You know that none of us would object to you coming in, silly,' the gold replied, rubbing the side of her head against the spur of Jeff's shoulder. 'You are our dominant.'

'I would not disturb the sanctity of your cove, my dear.' He gave her a firm nudge forward, and she trotted into the space with a few light steps, glancing back with a smile. Jared couldn't help but envy her grace. She moved as if she leaned more on the wind than on the ground, possessed of some deeper grace. It made him flush a little at his own stumbling steps.

'Come,' the golden ailure said, speaking to Jared this time. 'We'll leave the old soldier to his post.'

She jerked her head in indication, and Jared turned after a moment to follow her, watching Jeff walk away, back through the corridor.

'My name is Adrianne, by the by.'

Jared's head swiveled back as she spoke, and he ducked it slightly in greeting, Tristan following at his heels, though the young one was clearly distracted, looking over at the other kittens in the water.

'Nice to meet you...'

'So what brought you here? Where are you from? You know, everyone's dying to know.'

'Oh, uh...I'm from downstream on the river,' Jared answered absently as they settled by the water's edge, Adrianne folding her paws beneath her, understanding her body in a way that Jared never would. He felt Tristan's little claws in his flank and he looked back at the cub. 'Go on, then,' he urged with a sigh, nudging the kitten towards the play group, and Tristan immediately got the idea, running off.

'Your little one is adorable,' Adrianne said warmly. 'I don't have any of my own yet, but I'm looking forward to it. Where are his brothers and sisters?'

'Oh, he's...he's not mine. And the others in his litter didn't make it. He's the--What do you call him? The alpha's?'

Adrianne's head jerked back in shock, her bright sea green eyes widening, her jaw even dropping a little, showing the first hints of her lower fangs.

'The alpha's-- But his litter was stillborn.'

'I'm...not sure how much I should get into it...' Jared replied, suddenly realizing that he was probably talking about very private matters with a very public audience. 'Suffice it to say, Tristan is the alpha's son. I was his, uh, wet nurse, I guess. I came here to bring him home.'

Adrianne had to take a minute to process, going quiet as she turned her head. She was looking up the stream, to where it parted into two flows, where Tristan was frolicking in amongst the other cubs, fertiles laying on the bank and keeping watch. Jared didn't know how werecat prides worked. He wondered if, because Tristan was the son of the alpha, if he would become alpha next. Maybe it wasn't an election based thing. Maybe it was more like a monarchy.

Jared filed that away in his very full mental folder of questions to ask Misha.

'I can't believe...' Adrianne shook her head. 'So that is Jensen'hrao's son...'

Jared paused then, not certain if he should push, uncertain if it was a touchy or verboten subject. Still, everyone here had been pretty kind to him(besides, ironically, the werecat in question), and they all seemed eager to inform him of the many (many many many) things he didn't know. He felt himself lowering his head automatically, a motion of submission that he didn't remember asking his body to make.

'The alpha, Jensen...' he started, and Adrianne looked back at him. 'What's he like?'

Adrianne looked at him, considering, but there was no suspicion in her face. She wasn't considering whether or not she should answer, but rather, what she should answer. During his journey to the pride, Tristan in his mouth, he'd played over plenty of scenarios in his head. Most of them involved meeting a bunch of wild animals that didn't even know English. In the few that he'd entertained in which he could communicate with them, he'd imagined everything from getting torn apart to being put through some kind of trial, but never had he imagined being taken in as he had been.

He'd never expected to be here, sitting in a paradise like cove, talking easily with someone willing to share so much of their life and community with him.

'He's a good and kind alpha, I can tell you that much,' she started. 'I don't know him personally. Our pride is over one hundred ailure strong, so we don't all know each other intimately, though obviously we all talk from time to time.' She went quiet to think, her tender gaze darting to the gently flowing water beside them. 'He's been different, since the cubs. He used to be such an interactive alpha. As I said, I didn't know him well, but he would always stop to look over us, or ask us how things were. He was very attentive to the pride's needs. When I heard that he was having a litter, the other fertiles and I were so thrilled. He would have made a wonderful father.'

Adrianne's ears sank, her expression turning sad, and Jared didn't need to ask to know that the apparent stillborn cubs had hurt the entire pride, and not just Jensen. He'd seen more than enough to know how close they all were, by now.

'It was awful when we heard what happened. What Cosette went through... And Jensen'hrao hasn't been the same since. He's withdrawn. He's angry... He thinks, somehow, that we don't see it, but how can we not? He's our alpha. We look to him, always.'

Adrianne sounded sad and torn, and Jared didn't have a response to that. He couldn't say he was Jensen's biggest fan, but it was obvious these people loved him, even if he was out of his mind with grief at the moment. Jared had to recognize that he'd had all of two minutes interaction with the guy. It wasn't like he really knew him. It was just hard to imagine leaving Tristan with someone like that.

It was hard to imagine someone like that being a good father.

His thought derailed, though, when his brain caught up with everything that Adrianne had said.

'Cosette? Who's that?' he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He didn't know why he hadn't inquired about Tristan's mother before.

Tristan's real mother.

Jared tried to ignore the little shiver that ran through him.

'She's the fertile that bore the litter. When she was young, she gave up her place as a fertile to become a hunter, so it wasn't as if any of us expected her to bear young. It surprised us all when she offered. Since the birth though, she's been beside herself, blaming herself for what happened.' Adrianne shook her head. 'She hasn't left the cove for a few weeks now, since the alpha secluded himself...'

Jared's ears swiveled forward in an instant.

'Wait...She's here?'

'Yes, she's... Oh god, I didn't even think. You only arrived this morning... Of course you wouldn't have seen her yet.' Adrianne got to her feet. 'You must come see her. Please. Knowing that one of her cubs survived... It would do her a world of good.'

Jared couldn't say he was eager. He didn't know why. This was why he'd come here after all -- to find a family for Tristan. A family that wasn't a teenage runaway living out of a tent in the woods. He should be excited for this. Maybe he could have everything be done with before the day was out. He'd have found Tristan's mother and made sure he was safe and all would be right with the world, regardless of grief crazed alpha's and overly affectionate captains.

Except instead of feeling relief, Jared just felt like he was carrying a stone around in his gut.

That still wasn't a good reason to leave another person in pain though, and he pushed himself up onto his paws, trying for levity in his expression.

'Of course,' he responded finally.

This was what he'd wanted, after all. He just had to keep telling himself that.

Chapter Text

Jeffrey had been born in the spring of 1966, the year that the fever had swept through the Blue Ridge Pride.

He didn't remember the first few months of his life, as no one ever did, but it was a story he'd been told more often than he could count. He'd been told how the first fertile grew tired and weak, and how her litter had dropped, one by one, until her teats were bare, until the fever took her too. He'd been told how, one by one, other litters had caught the sickness, and that by the time the betas had separated them from one another, it was too late.

It was only a year after the incident at Yellowstone, less than that since the new young alpha of the Blue Ridge had stepped up, ready to lead their pride in a different direction, and there was no way their newly appointed leader would appeal to the humans for help. Without medicine or treatment, the fever grew, spreading without provocation, the pride dealing the best they knew how. The sickness was debilitating, but not fatal for most of the adults, only two adult fertiles finally capitulating to the fever's power. But the cubs were not so lucky.

Jeffrey didn't remember his mother, or his litter. All he knew was the story: that when the fever had passed and the sickness rolled back, he'd been the only cub left alive that birthing season, his mother and littermates all taken. Even the litters from the previous year had passed, still too young and too fragile to fight off the fever, and in its wake, there was only one cub, left alone and motherless. With so many hunters down with the fever for so long, the stores were depleted, and the summer mating season had been ordered off, the viable fertiles asked to refuse mating, so as to not put them through the suffering of losing cubs when there wasn't enough food.

Jeff's father, one of the pride betas, had done his best, but in the end, he'd given way to the fertiles: seven mothers who'd lost their new litters, every kitten, and five others who'd lost their yearling cubs. Twelve mothers wrapped in grief, and seven with milk heavy stomachs, and no cubs to feed. No cub but one -- a large black kitten with no mother of his own, and Jeffrey had no memory of any one mother, but many. He had no memory of any one family, only the warm tongues of the fertiles, his mothers and his brothers and sisters, his caretakers and cousins. He'd been raised in Urrou's Cove, far past shifting age, when most dominants were considered too old to enter the sanctuary.

'He is our dominant,' one of his mothers used to say proudly, and ever since, it was what they all called him. Jeffrey had seen himself as belonging to them. And they to him. Even those younger than him, that he couldn't help but see as sons and daughters, still called him theirs. The alpha of the fertile, the betas liked to call him.

He'd never mated. As he grew older he'd known it was expected of him, and when he'd become a beta, the other warriors had teased him, saying that he was so surrounded by fertiles, he should have his pick, a crude joke that had Jeffrey curling his lip until the other betas realized their shame. Realized that the sacredness of the fertile should never be questioned.

He had never mated, because he couldn't imagine himself choosing any one fertile to love more than the others. They were his family, his beloveds, and as time had gone on, and he grew up, he found himself preferring to watch over the dominants who did mate a fertile. He watched over them, making certain that each dominant cared properly for the fertile who trusted them, who gave so sweetly of themselves to their mates. To Jeffrey, it was a gift that no ailure should ever take for granted.

He was their dominant, always.

Even now, he was most often posted at the Cove's entrance, the captain and the alpha recognizing it as his place, more used to the culture of the fertile than he was that of his fellow betas.

It was why, of all dominants, it was most painful for him to hear Misha's story of a fertile raised by humans, lost and unknowing of his nature, his inherent perfection. Jeff didn't try to open the conversation, or to push Jared. It wouldn't do any good for people to lecture him, and Jeff was certain that the other ailure was dealing with enough for one day without having a stranger tell him how he was supposed to feel.

It didn't allay his instincts though. His innate desire to see a fertile in pain soothed. His innate possessiveness, to take the newcomer under his wing as one of his herd -- the fertiles he protected and watched over.

They were his fertiles, just as much as Jeff belonged to them, and he would care for them all, to a one, until the grey in his muzzle grew into the rest of his coat. Until they lowered his body into the Pale Gulch.

That possessive need to care for was why, when Jared stalked swiftly out of the Cove, Jeff found himself instinctively moving forward, to comfort, to inquire, to do whatever he had to, to make things better.

'Are you alright?' he asked, and Jared came to a stop, looking surprised, as if he had somehow missed Jeff's presence.

'I... yeah. I'm--...' He shook his head.

Jeff padded a little closer, but didn't invade the other ailure's space, more sensitive than the average dominant, and knowing that now wasn't the time to press anything.

'What's wrong? Did something happen?' Jeff asked, needing to know at least something, to know that those under his watch were alright -- and Jared was one of them, now.

'I'm just...' Jared shook his head, eyes pressing shut, and Jeff saw tears track dark trails through Jared's light fur, vanishing into his muzzle. The sight made Jeff's heart pinch. 'I can't be this, right now. I just can't.'

Jared didn't bother to expand. He just turned and walked away, back down to the path, no cub with him, leaving Jeff frowning in consternation.

He didn't know yet, exactly, what he should do. Only that he had to do something.

-----

Jared's heart rate picked up as he followed Adrianne over the bridge spanning the small stream, his eyes occasionally darting up to where Tristan was playing with the other cubs. This would all be easier if he could get some kind of handle on how he was feeling. It felt like every step he took brought on a new emotion, strange and tangling and new; too much all at once, and he just wanted to be able to decide how to feel about this, so he could move forward. It felt like his mind was tearing away in multiple directions, uncaring of the fact that however he acted now needed to be based on what he felt, what he wanted.

The clearing had been easier -- empty, just him and his tent and nothing else. A comfortable numbness, where he was never confronted, where he never had to think or decide or feel much of anything at all. The pain of leaving his family had faded there, and the desire to have company. Everything had faded, until it was just one day in front of the next, the hunt he needed to go on or the fire he needed to built, and nothing else.

It seemed that in the last day he'd been run through the gamut, and he just wanted to lie down, just wanted some time to absorb even half of the things he'd learned and seen and been told. Walking across the stone of the cove, following Adrianne's slowly shifting tail, Jared felt like he was walking towards another emotional ringer, more than he was prepared to take.

But this was for Tristan. This was what he'd come here to do.

And besides all that, he couldn't put his discomfort ahead of a mother mourning her children. It would be cold and immoral.

Even with all the things he'd done, he couldn't become that person.

On the further side of the cove, where the sunlight was still flooding in, warm and distant with late afternoon, there was a larger gathering of werecats. Five of them, all together, curled up near a cluster of rocks. It was easy to discern Cosette, even never having met her. She was at the center of the pile, her head down, the other fertiles crowded in like a living blanket. She was larger than any of the others, larger than Jared, but not as big as a dominant. She had a few stripes over her shoulders, but no mohawk, and she was more thickly muscled, her body more used to having to run and hunt than the others, and Jared wondered if maybe he could do that -- opt out and call himself a hunter.

Of course, that would require him to have a pride of some kind.

'Cosette?' Adrianne queried softly, and Jared saw the larger fertile raise her head, eyes opening without blinking, and she looked tired, as tired as Jared felt. 'This is the ailure that showed up this morning... He...He has something he needs to tell you.'

Jared's eyes widened, having been hoping(and assuming) that Adrianne would break the news. He didn't know quite what to say, or how to say it, but there wasn't much choice now. He took a few steps forward.

'I'm... I found some kittens, a couple of months ago. They were...yours. Or, that's what I'm told--' He could see Cosette's eyes widening, could see the other werecats around her looking stern and protective, and Jared recognized they'd probably spent the last two months trying to help her recover. 'Yours and Jensen's. One of them....survived. I wanted you to know. One of them is okay.'

For a moment, there was only silence, all eyes on Jared, and he felt incredibly awkward. He stood there, shifting uncomfortably, and, predictably, that was when Tristan decided to run up, coat wet and dripping, rubbing himself against Jared's forelegs. Cosette's gaze shifted immediately, wide eyes fixing on the cub that was twisting in between Jared's paws, butting up against his legs. The other werecat rose to her feet slowly but steadily, her eyes never moving. Jared swallowed hard.

'That is...my cub?' Cosette asked, finally, and Jared hated the jealous swell of childish denial he felt, immediately ashamed of his own possessiveness. Tristan wasn't his, nor did Jared think he should be. Jared wasn't equipped to be a parent to anyone. He was barely scraping by himself.

'Yes. I...named him Tristan. I mean, obviously, you can name him...whatever. I just--'

'Are you sure? That he is one of mine...?' she asked, finally looking at him again, a few of the other ailure getting to their feet. Jared felt like he was standing in front of a jury, only these weren't his peers. Cosette had that look of desperation, needing to know. 'Are you certain?'

'Misha said. And...Jensen... Well, he didn't really confirm it, but, he knew. Yeah, I'm sure. There were six, right? Six in total?' He didn't have to wait for her nod of confirmation. 'Yeah... I found six. Five were... But one, this one, Tristan. He was okay.'

Cosette just stood there for a long moment, and Jared didn't know what was going to happen. He watched as she made her eventual move forward, one careful paw shifting, then a pause, then another, and Cosette was watching Tristan like he was some kind of mythological creature descended from the heavens.

Tristan eventually took notice of the fact that he was under scrutiny, noticing the larger werecat approaching, and he ducked back behind Jared's paw, peering out from behind his leg. Jared saw Cosette halt and go still, and he took a step back, baring Tristan again. He lowered his head, placing his nose against the cub's back and gently nudged him forward across the ground. Cosette just stared at him for a long minute, then lowered her head. Tristan tried to scramble back at first, but Jared kept him in place, unable to ignore how close he and Cosette were, their heads on either side of the cub.

'...he is one of my litter?' Cosette asked in a voice scared to hope. As twisted up inside as he felt, Jared could still hear her pain.

'He's one of yours,' he answered.

Half a heartbeat later, Cosette was running her tongue over Tristan's messy fur, grooming slowly, and the cub began to relax into it, recognizing that the stranger presented no threat.

No, not stranger. Mother.

Maybe Tristan would know it inherently.

Jared raised his head, Tristan no longer fighting him for space, instead crawling in towards the warm passes of Cosette's tongue, enjoying the affection, and the hunter shifted to move her paw around him, laying down on the ground with her eyes winced shut, and Jared could see that she was crying, tears lost to fur. He felt something in his chest tug.

He shifted back as the other fertiles moved in, approaching Cosette and walking around her, heads lowering to sniff at the new member of their pride, soft purrs issuing up from throats as some offered brief licks of affection to Cosette's coat. Jared felt like an intruder here, in this family that wasn't his, and he stepped back again, and then again.

He'd done what he'd come here to do. Tristan had a home, and a parent, and that was all that mattered. He just had to tell himself that that was all that mattered.

He turned to go, just trying to breath.

'Wait,' Cosette's voice halted him. 'Where are you going?'

Jared turned, seeing all eyes on him, the hunter's head raised and watching him, Tristan curled up and purring against her leg, oblivious to anything that wasn't people paying attention to him.

'I...' Jared started, then shook his head. He didn't know where he was going. He never knew. It was all guess work, one day to the next and hand to mouth.

'Please... Stay. Let me have just...just a little time with him, before you take him away.'

Jared's brow furrowed, not understanding.

'He's...he's yours. I brought him here to give him back to you,' he said.

Cosette's eyes widened, and the other fertiles around her glanced at each other, running a gamut of emotions from confusion to joy, from surprise to something like grief.

'...what is your name? Please,' Cosette asked, too soft for Jared to deny her. 'Tell me.'

'Jared.'

'Jared, please. Come. I... I cannot even find words for how grateful I am. How much this means to me, to know I didn't fail my alpha completely.'

'Hey,' Jared cut in there, determined. 'No matter what, I know this wasn't your fault, and if that bastard said differently--'

'No,' Cosette shook her head. 'No, he didn't, I just... I did this for him, for our pride. I've never desired a mate, or children, or to live the life of a fertile. I cast off my nature years ago, decades ago... Even this Cove is an unfamiliar place to me. But our alpha... He wanted children of his own. I knew it, and everyone knew it. I thought, perhaps, that I could help.'

'You were...what, a surrogate?' Jared asked, confused.

'I suppose, if that is the word in your pride for this.' She paused for a minute, rubbing her nose against the knuckle of her paw, trying to calm herself, her tears beginning to abate. 'I'm so grateful you brought Tristan to me, I can't even speak it. I cannot say that I am better. It's not that easy. But I feel, for the first time in weeks, like maybe I can become better. I can't say how thankful I am. But he is not my child.'

Jared felt something hot wash through him, anger at those words, those words again, the second time today that someone rejected Tristan, who couldn't be a greater kid if he tried, even if he did wander off all the time and get into trouble, even if he did eat like a starving pig and chew too hard when he nursed, even if he tried to get himself killed at least five times a day and keep Jared up at night, all night, so that he could barely hunt or see straight, even if he'd come in and changed everything, disrupted everything, and thrown Jared's rote life into wild, living, breathing, wonderful chaos.

'How can you say that?' he demanded hotly, bracing his legs as if for a fight. 'What the hell is wrong with you that you don't want him?'

Cosette's head reared back in hurt, and Jared immediately regretted his words for the pain in her eyes, even before the other fertiles around her bared their teeth, snarling and scowling at the newcomer who'd just yelled at a surrogate who'd selflessly carried a litter for a jerk who didn't even want them anymore. The newcomer who'd just lashed out at someone who'd been in pain for two months now, because he couldn't deal with his own damned problems.

'I...' she started, and Jared felt lower than low, like he didn't deserve to be here. And really, he didn't.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean--'

'No, it's--'

'It's just everything that's happened, and that Jensen guy, and...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--... I'm sorry.'

'It's alright,' Cosette said, not to Jared this time, but to the other fertiles gathered protectively around her. Bit by bit, the snarling petered out, lips lowering to cover fangs, but Jared didn't mistake the angry, protective looks he was receiving, even Adrianne looking a little shocked, though she hadn't growled.

'I never intended to be a mother...' Cosette said, her voice too much like an apology, and Jared felt like an ass, knowing he put that self-deprecation there. 'I'm a hunter. I want to run with the other hunters, to bring down prey... It's who I've always wanted to be. I don't have it in me to care for cubs. I just... I wanted to...to help.'

'I'm sorry,' he said again, aching with it, wanting to erase the mark he'd painted on her, like any of this had been her fault.

'Even if I were fit to be a mother, I couldn't take this cub from you. You nursed him, raised him, cared for him...Even when he was in me, I didn't see him as mine. I'm so...so grateful for this. To have this moment. This...closure. But I'm not his mother. You are.'

Jared knew it was coming, knew it a mile away, but his head still jerked back like it was something unexpected, and he felt Tristan's eyes on him, watching him with that same innate trust, that unfaltering belief. He could still hear that whisper in his head, back in his clearing, Tristan looking at him and calling him by name. That old, sacred name. He'd nursed and looked after a baby, and there was only so much he could deny it, only so much he wanted to, and he couldn't deal with the fierce possessive surge, the need to walk over and pick Tristan up, and keep the cub for himself.

Selfish and needy, a teenaged runaway with nothing to offer but a lonely dead end life in a clearing, keeping Tristan when Tristan could have something better, all because Jared needed to have someone who'd admire him, love him, look up to him.

All because Jared didn't want to be alone.

He shook his head, delirious with it for a moment, the temptation there and real, and he stepped back.

'I...I can't...' He swallowed dryly, and if he stayed a moment more he knew he'd take Tristan and never look back. He wasn't a mother. Mothers didn't do things like this. Mothers didn't use a kid for their own emotional validation. Mothers didn't want to take their kids and run as far and as fast as they could, nothing to give and using the life of another to comfort their own. 'I have to go.'

Jared heard voices, but he turned away anyways, striding away, back to the opening in the rock. For a second he thought someone chased him, heard Adrianne's voice, but he didn't look away from where he was going. He didn't have a plan of any kind, just the abiding knowledge that this wasn't for him. He wasn't a fertile, wasn't an ailure, wasn't part of this pride or this family and couldn't be.

Just like always, he needed to run away.

He'd promised Misha he'd stay until he was well again, but after that...After that he knew he had to leave.

Chapter Text

The cover of the beech tree was reasonable, at first.

Dry and shaded, Jensen lingered there, ignoring the call of the world and existing in a twilight state, his mind a distant mumble of thought. Two days later, though, after a long night of rain, Jensen's temporary den under the tree's roots was sodden and muddy, and he found himself sinking inexorably downwards, no matter which way he twisted or where he situated himself. He slept through the night, despite the water and the sinking, but in the morning, light outside was thready, but the constant calling and singing of the birds signalled the end to the rain, for now, and Jensen figured that now was as good a time as any to come out of his self-imposed seclusion.

If nothing else, he needed to eat.

Tugging himself out from under the beech roots, his belly wet and the fur on his back crinkled and stiff with half dried mud, chunks dangling off and dragging down his whiskers, with a couple of sunsets of pathetic fasting and sulking behind him, Jensen had never felt less like a dignified alpha of an old and honored pride. He felt like a sodden old mess of a cat, and he couldn't say he was proud of himself besides.

He wouldn't have said he was proud of himself two days ago, either, after the incident at Misha's cabin. In the heat of the moment, sure, but even three minutes outside of pride ground, his paws flying, and he felt like a fool, a messed up hunk of matted fur. Alone, like this, and he could recognize all the things he was doing wrong, and all the ways he needed to make things right. But confronted with anyone, with anything, and it was like being lost in a fog. Like his emotions became too strong to think through.

This was not the behavior of an alpha.

He felt a weight settle in his chest, knowing exactly what Misha was thinking. It wasn't something they'd ever discussed before, because it was something that was never going to happen to them. It had been irrelevant, back when he'd appointed Misha his captain. Now, though, he could see it, a shadow behind his old friend's eyes, and Jensen didn't know how far he could push it.

It didn't help that he didn't want to push it. It didn't seem to matter what he wanted, though, because his mouth would say whatever it desired, these days, without any provocation or filter, and he just wanted it to be over. He wanted to get over this. It felt like he'd waited long enough.

He stalked his way through the forest, head low and ears swiveled back, stopping occasionally to try and shake some of the mud off, grousing as clumps clung to his whiskers. He cut a somewhat sad but still intimidating figure through the underbrush, and as much as his dignity had been reduced, he was still a massive predator, and no one would mistake him for anything but. Forest life avoided him, small prey flitting away at the sound of his passing. That didn't mean he was alone, though.

Jensen heard Alona long before he saw her.

'I know you're up there, you know,' he commented dryly, looking up towards the canopy. There was a rustling, then Alona dropped down, a crackle of branches and then a solid thump as her paws met with the dirt. She gave him a sour look.

'How?! I was making sure to stay downwind.'

'Next time, try and be quiet while you stay downwind. Don't need to smell you if I can hear you coming from a mile away.' He couldn't help the slight smirk, amused by her frustration, and he let it distract him. At least she was here. At least he hadn't ended their friendship with their last meeting, a couple of weeks ago.

Alona huffed, looking displeased, but when Jensen moved forward again, she fell in line behind him. The two of them walked in silence, and Jensen drew some comfort from the simple companionship, not talking, but not alone.

When they came to a stretch of meadow, Alona went bounding forward, and Jensen couldn't help but smile, watching her throw herself into the tall grass, rolling around on her back and sending dust billowing up into the sunny air, highlighting shafts of light. Her body shifted and jerked, like a big kitten, and his smile faded, instantly thinking of the cub with his mother's eyes, the one he'd denounced. He could recall with instant clarity its tawny coat, dappled with spots that would fade with age. A cub that was, if nothing else, part of his pride.

A cub that symbolized every ounce of his shame.

'Alpha,' Alona's voice cut in, and he looked up, expecting another pep talk, and honestly not sure if he could take it, right now. Not wanting a repeat of last time: foul anger spilling out of him when he couldn't process her sympathies. But Alona wasn't looking at him.

Instead, the fertile was crouched down, tail flicking as she watched movement across the meadow from them, something small and furry making its way through the grass, the occasional flick of the plants the only give away. He could see Alona's muscles tensing, shifting, the eagerness of an untrained cub. It had been a long time since Jensen was just a hunter, before he was alpha, before he was a beta -- he still went on the occasional hunt, but it wasn't something that he often had time for, the last few years.

All the same, the instincts never went away, never dulled, and he settled low in the grass.

'Calm,' he commanded, finding that alpha center in him, the ease of directing another, giving order without asking, and he didn't need to look to know that Alona had stilled. 'You're not close enough to make the kill. Smell that? We're downwind. Can you tell what it is?'

He saw the younger ailure lift her head, scenting the air, testing it and trying to figure out what Jensen already knew, the two of them teacher and student.

'...a rabbit? Is it a rabbit?' she asked, eager for praise.

'Good,' he replied, nodding his head shortly. 'But now you know: you can't make the kill from here. We may be faster, over all, but we're much bigger than a rabbit. It can turn and twist, zig-zag across the field until it reaches the safety of cover, and you'll be left skidding around, just trying to make the corners. We're too big to make those kinds of maneuvers. So.' He glanced over at her.

She was thinking, tail twitching too much, giving away her location, and Jensen reached out, putting his paw over the end of it, holding it still.

'...so I have to get closer, before I pounce.'

'As close as you can get without it sensing you.' Jensen waited for her to move first, feeling her tail slip from under his grasp. He followed her through the grass, his steps silent, watching her every move. She was a little clumsy, a little inexperienced. As a fertile, she had had less training in hunting, growing up, and had been less inclined to play-fighting as a cub. All the same, he could see her trying, her desire to succeed, and Jensen broke off from her trail.

He remained downwind of the rabbit, but began to flank it, his eyes never leaving his prey. He watched it hopping forward, nuzzling at plants to find food, ears laid down and relaxed. The two huge predators edged towards it, and Jensen lowered himself further, confident in his ability to get close without arousing any suspicion.

Alona wasn't as quiet, and Jensen went still when he saw the rabbit sit up, ears going firm and straight as it sensed danger. Jensen was like a stone, like a statue, even his breath stilling in his lungs as he waited for it, knowing exactly what would happen next.

The rabbit jerked when it spotted Alona in the grass, turning to dash in the opposite direction. That was when Jensen roared, jumping forward, making as much noise and motion as he could, his objective not to capture the prey. The rabbit skidded to a halt, darting back in the other direction, starting up its expecting jerking from left to right, trying to throw Jensen off, except Jensen wasn't giving chase.

Instead, the rabbit zagged straight over to Alona, who pounced immediately, her claws pinning the prey under her weight, the struggle ending quickly, Alona's long tail the only thing sticking up higher than the grass, jerking widely back and forth as she made her kill.

Jensen smiled a little to himself, strolling over to the edge of the meadow, where he could bed down in the shade of a tree, the grass settling into a comfortable bed beneath him. A few minutes later, Alona trotted up, the furry carcass dangling proudly from her jaws.

'Congratulations,' he murmured, watching her settle down with her kill.

'Thanks...' She seemed pleased with herself, nuzzling into the rabbit's pelt, looking for the right place to start her meal, flesh still warm and pliant. 'Of course, I don't think I'd have landed it, if you weren't there.'

'No shame in that,' Jensen reminded. 'We hunt together. It's the nature of our people to work as a group.'

She glanced at him, something more than just looking in her eyes, something appraising, but she didn't say anything, instead turning back to ripping out her first bite, blood thin and red on her muzzle as she ate.

'So...' he started, conversationally, though he felt some trepidation. He extended his claws, dragging them through the dirt and detritus, watching it clump beneath his paw. 'Does this mean you plan to forsake?'

Alona considered this for a moment, lifting her head from her task of devouring the rabbit, then shook it back and forth.

'No... I have no desire to be a hunter. I mean... it's fun. And it's not like I plan on looking for a mate any time soon. But... But yeah. I think I'll be... You know. One day.'

Jensen nodded. He could see her as a mother, eventually -- she was a child yet, still growing up, and he wouldn't want her to leap too fast into a mateship that didn't suit her, but one day, when she was older. He very much wanted to see the future she would create for herself. He wanted to be there for that.

'I...' he started, knowing already that she had forgiven him, but still needing to say it. It still needed to be said. 'I'm sorry. For the things I said to you before. I shouldn't have said something like that to any fertile, but, even more, I shouldn't have treated you like that. We have always been...family.'

It didn't matter that they weren't related by blood. He had spent as much time in her childhood as her parents and her littermates. He still felt torn up, uneven, but he didn't want to lose his friendship with her, especially over this, over such horrible words.

Alona watched him as he spoke, gathering her feet under her to stand as she carried over the rest of the rabbit to deposit it in front of him. He felt his stomach cramp as he remembered his hunger, tucking in, though not with his usual enthusiasm. She let him eat for a few minutes before responding, quieting the demands of his body.

'You know we're okay. There was no way I wasn't going to forgive you. What you've been going through...No one would blame you.'

'That's not true,' he said, swallowing the last of the rabbit as he raised his head. 'I am alpha. I have duties, and as you so rightly said, last time, I haven't been doing them.'

'I don't think anyone expected you to be okay after this. I just don't think we expected you to be gone, you know?' She settled down slowly beside him, obviously waiting for him to push her away, but he made no such move.

'I know...And I'm sorry for that. I am. I just...I don't know why I can't seem to move on. It's been over two months now, and it feels even worse than it did the day that it happened. I thought...with time. I thought that if I just waited, it would fade, that things would get better, and eventually I would be able to let it go.' He shook his head, stomach curling a little at the remains of the corpse under him, tossing the rest of the bones away into the undergrowth. 'I just don't know what I'm supposed to do.'

Alona was quiet for a long time, nodding her head as she listened to him, and then going still as she seemed lost in thought. Jensen didn't push. He figured after last time, he owed her a lot more than waiting.

'Do you remember when I was eight?' she asked, unexpectedly, and he blinked in surprise. He nodded, not seeing what this had to do with anything, but said nothing as she continued. 'I'd gone running off with the other kids in my littergroup, and we ended up in a thicket. I hurt myself crawling around, and had to come back to pride ground early.' She seemed to smile, a fond look coming over her. 'You found me that evening, licking my paw. I had a thorn embedded in the pad, and you told me: 'That has to come out.' I didn't want you to touch it.'

She chuckled, shaking her head.

'You shifted into human shape, and took my paw in your hands. I told you that I just wanted to leave it, that it would heal on its own. But you said that it couldn't heal, so long as the thorn was in there. That I had to have the thorn pulled out, even if it hurt more at first, before my paw could begin to heal. You helped me, back then. You pulled the thorn out and you hugged me and cleaned my paw, and you checked on me every day until I could walk again... Right now? You're sitting around, hoping that if you wait long enough, you'll heal around the thorn. But then every time you try to take a step or put weight on it, the thorn shifts, and it cuts you even deeper. You can keep waiting, wait as long as you like, but Jensen...' She looked over to him, dropping the usual honorific. 'No matter how long you wait, you can't heal around the thorn. It has to be taken out.'

Jensen looked out at the meadow, mostly obscured from his position in the grass. He didn't want to go back to pride ground. He still wasn't certain that he could be the alpha that he wanted himself to be -- the alpha his pride expected him to be. He turned his gaze down to the dirt beneath him, curling his claws through it again, watching the way it parted and fell, tiny avalanches in the wake of his destruction.

He wasn't sure he could even find the thorn that he needed to remove.

'Alpha...' Alona's voice cut in, lower, softer. 'Whatever it is you need...we're here for you.'

'That's the problem,' Jensen sighed. 'I don't even have the slightest clue what I need. No one will even mention the cubs to me, as if it's some taboo subject, and I suppose it is, because the few people who do mention them get their heads bitten off. How am I supposed to mourn if I can't even talk about it? How am I supposed to move on when it feels like I'm tied to them, drifting down the river still...'

He glanced at Alona.

'I suppose you know about that now,' he added wearily, filled with shame.

'I don't know the specifics... They told me that the cub that came with the stranger... That that cub is yours.' She sidled up to him slowly, their coats pressing together.

Jensen sighed, a deep intake of breath into the barrel of his chest.

'I don't even know what to do with this... This wasn't what I envisioned, when I took the trial. Sometimes I wonder if I should have said die -- if I should have let someone else become alpha.'

'You're a good alpha,' Alona reminded him. 'You've led us for eight years... Do you think we don't love you for all you've done?'

'And how far does that love extend?' Jensen growled then, but it wasn't at Alona. His claws flexed angrily. 'This pride withstood Jed's tyranny without a whine. How do I know that they won't do the same? That I won't be the same? Angry and paranoid, cutting us off from the world and thinking that it'll somehow save us... I was supposed to be better. I was supposed to bring back the honor of my family, of my grandfather. To bring us back...'

'But Jedediah'hrao isn't poorly remembered,' Alona said, as if it was something good. 'He was a good alpha...'

'But that's my point!' Jensen stood up finally, tail whipping back and forth. 'He wasn't! He hid us away, convinced us that humans were our enemies. He didn't just watch over us, he controlled us, and yet he's still thought of fondly. How do I know that I'm any better? I was supposed to be better.'

'Then be better. Don't hide out in the woods like a coward -- you're better than that. You're better than this. Maybe I don't remember the last alpha much, but I remember you, and you've never hidden from problems before. Don't give up, Jensen'hrao. Don't give up on us... Please? Please come back with me.' Alona got to her feet as well, slower than Jensen though, and carefully made her way towards him, head and ears lowered demurely, submissive. He made no move to discourage her, letting her butt her head up under his.

'...I'll come back. I have to,' he replied, but there was no energy to his voice. 'I... I'm not talking to the newcomer though. I don't want anything to do with him. Or his cub.'

'...okay,' she said finally, but he could hear the sadness in her words. 'Okay. Whatever you need. Just please, come home.'

He let out a long sigh, letting her rub her head up against his. He was a mess, still caked in mud and his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and loss. Despite his words, he didn't think that his behavior would go unchecked much longer. His betas were strong and capable, and Misha no coward. That shadow in his captain's eyes lingered in Jensen's memory, and they'd never spoken of it, but perhaps he'd chosen better than he'd thought.

One way or the other, he wouldn't end up like Jed.

One way or the other, the pride would be served.

He pushed himself away, walking up the embankment and into the forest, south, towards pride ground, and Alona followed him, and he could feel her belief in him, he just didn't know how to make good on that kind of faith.

Chapter Text

Jensen never met his grandfather, he only knew the stories.

Nathaniel'hrao had won his trials in 1946, the same year that Jensen's mother was born, upon the death of the previous alpha. At that time, only the main building existed on pride ground, built one hundred years earlier by humans in the area, when they'd been building up what had then been called Charleston -- later renamed to Bryson City. Pride ground was a barren area of rock just above the river, the pride having lived there for centuries, living as the wild dictated. It was Jensen's grandfather that had pushed to have the first cabins build, bartering with the humans for supplies and training, giving meat and fur away in return. He lead their pride for nearly twenty years, modernizing them, bringing in books, teaching the young kittens of the pride to read.

Then Yellowstone had happened.

It hadn't taken long for the news to reach them, not with their close contact with Bryson, and the hop step of television and radio in human towns. Jensen's grandfather had just finished getting the generators installed when his leadership had been questioned, and a young beta named Jedediah had stepped forward with a new philosophy, one that was then wholeheartedly embraced by the pride.

Jedediah'hrao had taken lead of the pride at the tender age of twenty three, defeating the previous alpha, Jensen's grandfather, after issuing challenge. There were no trials.

'In time, my love,' Jensen's mother would say, as Jensen got older, his eager desire to spill blood boiling through him. 'In time, we will have our return.'

The truth was, though, as much as Jensen disliked the alpha, growing up, the older cat never abused his position. Jensen disagreed with all he stood for, wanted to steal the pride back from him, but he never dared issue a challenge. The alpha looked after the pride, in his own way, for thirty seven years, and the pride followed. And Jensen couldn't blame them.

When he'd been small and easily turned to the words of others, he'd believed the stories that the betas told: stories of humans with sticks that would beat in the heads of cubs, or humans who came with fire, wild and living, eating up the forest. Humans with their guns, able to fell an ailure long before the warrior could charge.

'They feared the humans, and in their fear, they turned to someone who seemed to have answers,' Jensen's mother used to say, grooming Jensen's frill. 'The alpha fears them even now, and wants us to fear them as well.'

'The humans are dangerous.' Jensen had parroted back, the words he heard the adults whispering as they cowered under the undergrowth, hiding from the rain.

'The humans are just apes grown big -- they are our brothers and sisters on this Earth. We daren't forget it.' His mother had always tempered him, her voice calm and patient.

'But why do we need their help anyways? We're strong by ourselves.'

'Why do the hunters work together to bring down prey?'

'Because they're stronger together,' Jensen had mumbled, hating being bested, even by his mother.

'Here, on this mountain, we are pride, and we work together for the benefit of each other. But on this planet, we and the humans are pride. We must work together, for the betterment of each other, or we will not survive the winter of our times.'

When Jensen was older, and able to look back with more wisdom, he knew an altruistic love of pride wasn't the only motivation. His mother, as wise as she was, and as much as Jensen had loved her, had carried her hatred with her as well -- hatred for the cat who had killed her father, even if that kill had been just and fair, a fairly issued challenge, a fairly fought fight and a clean kill, free of emotion or malice. It was the way of their people, but Jensen's mother had never been able to forgive Jedediah'hrao, and she had groomed her son to take her revenge.

He knew Misha was less than approving of that, but Misha had never seen the other parts of Jensen's mother -- her kindness and her care, her knowledge, and how she had never tried to manipulate Jensen, as much as Misha believed she had. She had been a noble fertile, the daughter of an alpha, and she had raised an alpha. She had furthered him, but Jensen had been the dictator of his own destiny, no one else.

Jensen had never known his grandfather, being born ten years after Jedediah'hrao had risen to alpha, but he knew who his grandfather had been, and Jensen knew that kind of alpha that he wanted to be.

The kind of alpha his mother had raised him to be.

Strength tempered with reason. Command tempered with love.

And beyond all of that, the desire to see their pride, the pride of the world, through the winter of their times.

And for one week after discovering his son had come back from the dead, Jensen tried to just involve himself in that, in running his pride and ignoring everything else. He avoided the newcomer -- Jared -- and turned his eyes away whenever he saw the cub. He felt like a fool, and a coward, but it was the only thing that kept him moving.

He tried to get back into routine, to the familiar effort of running his pride, scheduling the hunts, checking the store houses, making sure they had enough gas to keep the generators running, and when Jensen was doing that, he almost felt normal. It wasn't easy, and every day he got up seemed heavier and harder than the last, the tasks he used to find effortless, that he used to find joy in now a chore, at best. Torturously wearying, at worst.

But at the end of the day, he was still alpha, and he still wanted to be, for all its burden. He felt like he didn't know how to be alpha, anymore, but he could, at least pretend. And in pretending, hoped it would become real again.

And for five days, that almost worked.

Then everything fell to pieces.

-----

After the whole ordeal of his first day, Jared had ended up sleeping for almost fifteen hours.

When he woke up, Tristan was there, curled up and purring, and, despite himself, Jared smiled, cuddling his kitten closer. Julie brought Jared a huge plate of food, saying that Misha had dropped it off for him, and that he was on a strict regimen of eating and sleeping and little else. When he inquired about how Tristan was going to be fed, Julie replied, with no embarrassment or fear, that she had enough teats and milk to go around.

Jared had felt the back of his neck flush red in sympathy, but then realized that he was the only one in the room ashamed of a basic biological function. Julie treated it like it was nothing -- something perfectly normal. Jared couldn't say he was there yet, but he wanted to be. He liked the idea of a life where he wasn't constantly embarrassed by his body doing strange and abnormal things.

Jared settled into routine with deceptive ease, living in the cabin with Misha and his wife and the kittens. Tristan fit in amongst the group just fine, and Jared kept an eye out while he concentrated on eating himself silly. When asked, several days later, how he was doing, he had to admit that the extra food and sleep had done him wonders. He was beginning to feel a bit more human.

Or, well, a bit more ailure.

Things were still strange and unavoidably awkward. It was obvious that he didn't fit in here, and that what the pride held to be normal he found strange, and vice versa. It wasn't bad really, just uncomfortable. Just highlighted that he didn't quite fit in anywhere, with werecats or with humans.

As for Tristan, Jared was doing his best to slowly withdraw from the kitten's life.

He felt better in body than he had when he'd first arrived, but it hadn't been sleep deprivation or hunger that had forced him to come to his conclusion in the cove. He was no fit parent for a kid, and Tristan deserved to grow up with his people. Jared wasn't certain what 'people' that was going to be yet, given that Tristan's mother had been a surrogate, and his father was some douchebag who'd run off into the wilderness.

Not that Jensen didn't return.

Two days after Jared's arrival, he saw the alpha roaming around town, and he braced himself for impact. There was no way to avoid it, after all. Eventually, Jensen was going to have to acknowledge Jared and Tristan, and it was only a matter of time before he stalked into the cabin, making his demands known.

Julie, like the others, tried to tell Jared that Jensen was a good man, and that he just needed time, but Jared really wanted to see Tristan settled before he left. He didn't know when that was going to be, but it wasn't like it was getting easier with time, and Tristan still tended to sneak into Jared's bed to cuddle at night. He didn't want to string the cub along, or make a more lasting impression than he already had, and he was painfully aware that, with each passing day, it was just going to get more damaging and more painful to leave.

That was why, one week after he'd arrived on pride ground, Jensen still avoiding them like the plague, Jared did something incredibly stupid.

"Hey!" he shouted as Jensen walked up the slope in front of him, Jared striding forward, out from under the shadow of the trees. At first, Jensen just turned, looking curious, but then his expression darkened and set when he recognized who it was.

"Yeah," Jared continued. "That's right. It's me. That guy that found your freaking son and nursed him back to life."

If anything, Jensen's face just darkened more, but he didn't say anything.

"What's wrong with you, man? Tristan? Is a great kid. Anyone'd be lucky to have him. I bring him back here, thinking someone's gotta be happy to have one of their family back. I mean, you guys are all about family, right? Then I get here, and it's like freaking hot potato. Yeah? You ever play that?" He juggled an imaginary potato in his hands, not caring that they were gathering a crowd, or that he looked more than a little ridiculous. "Cause you'd be damn good at it, man."

"You don't know anything about me," Jensen hissed out, and Jared could hear a feline growl building in the other man's chest.

"You're right -- oh hey, wait! You're totally not. I know this much: You are a shitty father."

Jared liked to think that, if he were a smarter person, he would have known the minute that the words were past his lips that they were a mistake. But Jared had never claimed to be particularly gifted, something his ninth grade Lit teacher would have sworn to under oath, and as it was, speaking them just felt really fucking good, and he had half a second to feel pleased with himself before pain exploded in the center of his face, throwing his head to the side and sending him stumbling back.

He didn't even see the punch.

Just one minute he was staring at Jensen, spitting angry words, and then the next, blood was running over his chin. He blinked a couple of times, the world hazy, and he could feel the pain but still not quite recognize it. He had a second to know this was going to royally suck before it hit him like an eighteen wheeler, raw and sudden and he groaned, hands cupping his face, blood running through his fingers.

He was just beginning to breathe his way through it when there was a loud, angry scream -- a mountain lion enraged, that pitching yowl, and Jared looked up in time to see Misha, in his human form, despite the sounds he was making, tackle Jensen to the ground. Jensen made as if to fight, at first, and then stopped, Misha gripping the collar of his shirt, face locked in anger.

Jensen was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time, as if the world had ceased to make sense, and then Jensen looked at his own hand, knuckles clean and skin unbroken from the punch, but Jensen's expression was as if he'd never seen that hand before, as if he didn't know what it was for. Jared just stood there, blood dripping onto the mountainside.

"You--" Misha started, but if he had anything else to say, it never came. The two werecats just sat there, Misha straddling Jensen's prone form, both of them silent and tense, until Jensen fought his way out from under the beta. Misha didn't try to stop him.

Jensen stumbled to his feet, turning almost hesitantly to look at Jared, that same lost and confused look on his face, and Jared didn't know what to do with that, wasn't quite ready to think around the blinding pain in the center of his face. The two of them just stared at each other, at some kind of impasse, before Jensen stalked away, his wide eyes seemingly blind, focusing on nothing.

Misha was getting to his feet, moving towards Jared to check on him, but Jared shook his head, waving him off.

"I'm fine," he said, but it came out more 'Img fuh'. Misha seemed to get the gist, though, and moved to sit down heavily on a protruding rock.

Jared tried to tip his head back to stem the flow of blood, but that just makes it run down the back of his throat, thick and nasty. He coughed and righted his head again, pinching his nose together. It wasn't broken -- at least, he didn't think. He didn't feel any bones grating together or anything. Just bleeding like a motherfucker.

Despite the blood, though, it was Misha who looked like he'd been punched in the face, not Jared. His expression was slack, bright blue eyes staring at nothing until he caught sight of his wife in the crowd.

"God, oh god, Julie, I can't do it," he said, leaning over to grasp his head in his hands, and Jared was totally lost. Julie moved away from the crowd, a light summer dress on and her bare feet clearly comfortable against the stone as she approached her husband. She took Misha's head in her hands, embracing it, embracing him, and holding him against her stomach. He moved his arms to hold her in return, shaking. "He's my best. Friend."

"It's not that time. Not yet. Maybe you won't have to." She was clearly trying to comfort, but it didn't seem to be going far, and the way her voice sounded wasn't exactly the voice of confidence.

"He struck a fertile," Misha ground out through a tense jaw, and Jared was officially lost.

"Woah, hey," he fumbled out, sounding like his nose was stuffed, like a little kid with a cold, while blood dripped down over his lips and to his chin. "What's going on? What'm I missing here?"

Misha looked at him, eyes wide and distressed, and it was beginning to scare Jared a little. Misha turned away, hiding his face in his wife's stomach. Julie pursed her lips together, and then spoke to Jared for his benefit.

"Misha is the captain of the beta. He leads the elite warriors that protect and defend our pride."

"Okay..."

"They are the ones who watch over us, who take care of us. The ones who patrol our borders and enforce our laws amongst us. And they obey Misha."

"That's... Yeah, I'm still not getting it."

"That is only half their job."

Jared's brow furrowed at that, frowning. Whatever this was, he didn't like where it was going. He couldn't say he'd known Misha long, but the guy had a generally upbeat attitude, and seemed perfectly capable of dealing with some heavy stuff. That seemed like a job requirement, actually, to be a 'captain.'

"So...What's the other half?"

"The beta..." Julie started, looking uncomfortable. "They watch over us, but they also watch the alpha. If the alpha begins to fail in his duties, or break our customs, and will not step down or recuse himself, it is the job of the beta to fall upon him."

"Fall upon him..." Jared didn't like the sound of that.

"Misha will order them to tear the alpha limb from limb, so that a new alpha may be chosen. The beta are the alpha's most loyal servants, and his potential killers, all at once."

Jared felt like a reeled even more than when he was punched. That...was not at all what he was expecting.

"How can I give that order?" Misha asked, sounding ripped apart. "He's my best friend..."

"Woah," Jared started in, needing to speak up, even though he was starting to feel a little light headed -- from the punch, the nose bleed, or the revelation, he wasn't sure. "Woah, slow down here. No one's...getting anyone else torn apart or 'fallen upon' or whatever you want to call it."

Misha didn't look quite convinced, but Jared could also see that the other werecat hadn't been really prepped to give the order, desperate to find a reason why this duty didn't have to be performed.

"He hit a fertile... It goes against more than just our customs. If you had forsaken, perhaps, but..." Misha shook his head. "And it's more than just that. It's like he's not himself anymore. Like he hasn't been in weeks. And I keep wondering, how long am I supposed to let this go on, before I... do something? How long is long enough? How long is too long? How does anyone decide something like this?" He leaned back, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "We never even talked about it before, because it wasn't something that was ever going to happen to us. We were going to do so much. We had so many ambitions and dreams for this pride... But we never once talked about this."

"Hey, look." Jared held up two hands, stepping forward, needing to make sure that his view was well heard and understood. "I'm not...pressing charges, or whatever. I don't want you to hurt Jensen. In fact, I'm asking you not to. As a fertile. Or whatever. I can't...deal with someone getting hurt, cause of me. Especially when I was the person who said something shitty. I was the asshole. Where I come from, when you're that big of an asshole, you deserve to get punched. And I was. An asshole, I mean." He paused and considered. "And punched, I guess. But my point is, I deserved that. I said something spectacularly shitty, and I'm sorry about that, but if you hurt Jensen just cause he punched me for being an assface, I will feel even worse than I do now, so please. No...falling on, or ripping to shreds or even giving a beat down. I just want to write this off as an unfortunate incident and move on. Please?"

Jared swallowed, tasting blood on the way down, and his nose was at least beginning to slow. Misha was watching him, deliberating, but his expression didn't seem too alleviated by Jared's speech. Jared could recognize, at least, that there was more on Misha's mind than just this one incident. That it was weeks of stuff, all building up, but Jared still couldn't take the idea that he'd end up responsible for someone's death, just for saying something stupid, even if it was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

"...alright," Misha said, finally, acquiescing. "I wasn't..." He shook his head. "I wasn't ready to say 'die' yet." He winced at the unfortunate meaning of the phrase, then continued. "I mean, I wasn't ready to give in yet. So..."

He looked up at Julie, a gaze of faith, that worship that Misha had told Jared about, a huge warrior leaning against his wife-- no, not wife, mate, and finding a different kind of strength altogether.

"We're not there yet," he repeated her words, and she brushed her fingers over his temple. "Not yet."

Jared rubbed his sleeve under his nose, watching it come away russet. He wasn't sure if it was the conversation or the blood that made his stomach feel cramped and queasy.

As much as he wanted to leave as soon as possible, it was clear that he had to stick around until this was cleared up.

He couldn't just dump this problem on the pride and run. They were suffering enough as it was.

Jared wasn't certain how he was going to sort things out with Jensen, but looking at Misha's face, he was determined to figure it out.

Chapter Text

Jensen didn't remember the shift, or deciding to go to the Pale Gulch.

He remembered the run, stretching his legs, the wild mess of the forest flying by him, and how he almost felt free, running from an invisible monster, something that wished to enclose and cage him, tear the mountains from his bones. He remembered he started with feet and ended with paws, but he didn't remember when that happened, or what happened to his clothing. He only truly came back to himself when he leapt from the ridge, his paws landing on the firm surface of the dried out clay, barren of plants or weeds. He braced himself, the barrel of his chest expanding and contracting as he felt the blood rushing hot through his veins, the oppressive summer air clinging in around him, only to be swept away again as a hard wind came up the mountain, and his eyes, clenched shut, flew open.

Before him, stretched out in all directions, was the wild of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Dozens of mountains, one after another, fading into a cool blue of mist, one rolling, dappled peak after the next, disappearing around the edge of the horizon, the hazy quality created by the trees that covered the ground like a thick coat of fur, touched here and there with sunlight and the uneven shadows of the clouds drifting over head. To the west, Jensen could see the Great Appalachian Valley, low and hollow, thick with life and vegetation. Further west, barely visible, were the Appalachian Mountains themselves, a great spine that ran the length of the continent, each mountain a powerful vertebra leading into the next one, and Jensen had traveled their length once, in his youth.

He remembered the feeling of freedom, then. The freedom from doubt, or loss.

Here, high on the plateau of a mountain, Jensen could see forever, the stretch of his homeland, blues and greens bleeding together, fertile and waiting. But the Pale Gulch stood ever barren, a stretch of red stained dirt and stone, the rich clay dried out by the sun, all the way to where the earth had been split, leaving a deep cut, like a wound, wide and gaping.

And within it, the bones of his people.

'Alpha,' a voice interrupted him, and Jensen jumped, feeling hunted.

He wondered if he was. He saw Jeffrey perched on the ridge above him, his large black and peppered grey form waiting, muscles bunched. And perhaps Misha had given the order. Jensen had betrayed the customs of his people, after all, striking a fertile in a way he'd never have expected of himself. The blood of a fertile spilled by his hand.

Perhaps Jeff was just the first beta to find him.

Jensen could recuse... but he couldn't find it in himself, now more than ever. He would rather be torn apart, his body left to the Gulch like his mother before him, and their ancestors before them, and let the heat and the sun bleach his bones.

Still, he tensed, tail lashing back and forth, determined not to go down without a fight.

'I suppose you're here to end this. I know you well enough, Jeff -- you won't wait for the safety of the others. But I warn you, I have no intention of just giving in.' If he was to be torn asunder, he'd leave some marks behind first. Jeff would win, bigger and stronger than Jensen, the only cat in the pride that Jensen knew he couldn't beat. They'd never fought each other before, Jeff having chosen not to enter the trials after Jedediah'hrao's death. Jensen had been sure the other cat would enter, and he was the only one that Jensen had worried about, the one that Jensen had been sure would beat him and become the next alpha. But Jeff had merely shaken his head and walked away, returning to his post at the entrance to the Cove, leaving Jensen to fight to his victory. They'd never fought before, but Jensen had always known that the possibility of his death lay in this beta's darkened claws.

Jeff jumped down from the ledge, his landing stirring up quick clouds of dust into the air. He looked over at Jensen, but he wasn't tensed or flicking his ears back in preparation for a fight. It left Jensen confused and off kilter. Instead, Jeff just walked over and shoved him, Jensen stumbling back like a cub.

'Idiot,' Jeff said, and Jensen just stared at him. The large black cat walked over to the edge of the Gulch, glancing down into it before settling himself, laying down with his hindlegs out to the side, his forelegs stretched out in front of him and his head held erect.

'I...don't understand,' Jensen finally spoke up, when enough silence had stretched and nothing else had happened.

'It's pretty clear there's a lot of things you don't understand, alpha,' Jeff remarked, his expression more chiding than stern.

Jensen frowned, but padded a little closer once it became clear that no violence was coming. He lay down stiffly, tucking one paw under himself.

'So why did you come here?'

'I came here to end this, just as you said. Not your life though. Just all of this.'

Jensen turned his head, looking out over the stretch of the Valley, the hazy mist of the Blue Ridge teasing him. He wondered how far he would have to run to escape this feeling.

'It's time for this to end, alpha,' Jeff continued. 'What you've been through, what you've lost...None of us could imagine it. We want to see you free of pain, and we've waited for you to tell us how to help, but time has past, and it's become clear: you have no intention of healing. It is easier for you to wallow in your pain.'

Jensen hissed, curling his lips back as he leapt swiftly to his feet.

'How dare you! You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy it?'

'No,' Jeff replied, not moving from his position on the edge of the Gulch, relaxed even in the face of Jensen's anger. 'I think it's horrible for you. But I also think that you've grown used to how horrible it is, and that the pain, no matter how severe, is now familiar. Comfortable. And I think you're more scared of the unknown of recovery than you are of the continuation of your grief.'

'You know nothing of how this feels.' Jensen's voice was tinged with that very pain, and he wished he could go back to a time when he didn't feel like this, when he didn't carry it with him everywhere.

'You're right,' Jeff replied, and Jensen could hear some sympathy there, hidden behind his matter-of-fact tone. 'I don't. I can't. You lost your litter--'

'I did more than lose them!' Jensen howled, needing, for once, for someone to get that it had nothing to do with that. Not anymore. 'I killed them! They were still alive and I sent them down the river! They died cold and hungry and alone and that is on me, it's on me and it always will be. I killed my own children, my family. How can I be alpha anymore? I don't even feel like an ailure! I've betrayed everything I once honored, why not this too?' He laughed, a sick sound, and he threw his head back, screaming until it echoed, until it burnt. 'Why not throw myself to H'raksha and be done with it?!'

'Why not indeed?' Jeff replied, tone dry, and Jensen whirled, striking out at the rock face, his claws slashing over stone and screeching, his body pitching dizzily, wild with grief.

'It's my fault! It's my fault they're dead! I was so selfish!' He hung his head, eyes pinched shut. 'I couldn't stand the thought of seeing them in the Pale Gulch, to have the reminder of them always there! Pride that I loved, pride that I failed! I was so desperate to be rid of them that I sentenced them to death!'

He collapsed, body hitting the stone, sobbing for breath.

'I bear that. I bear them, and they're still with me! I sent them down the river and ran, and yet I'm still not free of them! Their names, ungiven, unspoken, will be written on my bones when my flesh decays, and Saul'hrao and all the First Pride will see it! The world will see my wrongs and know exactly what I am, not alpha, not ailure, but a worm. Lower than H'raksha, lower than the lowest of beasts, and how can I face that? How can I--' He faded off, sobbing too hard to breath, to find words anymore. He felt the tears tracking through his fur, dripping down his muzzle, and he only cried harder when he felt the warm passes of Jeff's tongue, pressing over his nose and his eyes, cleaning the tears even as they ran.

In his head, on the backs of his eyelids, he could see the little cub he'd only glanced, his image indelible, a part of Jensen's body, accusation in those innocent teal eyes, perfect and unknowing. The proof, irrefutable, that Jensen had failed at more than just being a father. That he had failed in every way, sentencing six unsullied lives to the cold dark of the river, hidden from Saul'hrao's gaze and kept from their true place in the sky.

Jensen felt shame and horror wash through him in waves, all the dizzying self-hatred he'd barely kept at bay for weeks now, all the wonderings and the questions that he couldn't ask because the answers were too much to take. He struggled to breathe, struggled to hold on to the mountain as if it were tipping, tilting under him, his claws digging into the dirt. He shuddered for air, cried until he couldn't anymore, until he was a shivering wreck, his fur stirred by the clean breeze, cleaner than him, and freer too, free of the weight of sin and able to soar where Jensen would only fall and fail.

He cried until he had nothing left to give, and he felt Jeff's head next to his own, but he couldn't open his eyes.

'It's true that you should have brought them to the Gulch,' Jeff spoke again, finally, when too much time had passed for Jensen to recall, only Jeff's voice in his head and the whistle of the wind to comfort him. 'But you did not kill your children, Jensen'hrao. They were stillborn.'

Jensen didn't have the energy to object, to say a single thing, but Jeff seemed to know, anyways.

'They were. You were not the only one in that cabin that day, and everyone else who saw them knew that they had been born without life. Perhaps if there'd been lingering, someone would have noticed that some were alive, but if you had taken them to the Pale Gulch, it is likely that no one would have heard their cries, and they would have languished just as well, only without a savior this time. And because of that decision, that savior, one was saved.'

Jensen opened his eyes slowly, feeling defeat sluggish in his veins, and he turned his gaze up, looking at the dark warrior, haloed by the sun.

'Perhaps more than one was alive, when you placed them in the river,' Jeff admitted, not trying to hide or obscure the truth of possibility. 'We will never know. No one can know such things, none but Saul'hrao and his betas. All we can know now is that one has come back to us, and that is cause for celebration, not despair.'

Jensen turned his head, looking over towards the gap of the Gulch, unable to see into it from here, but seeing the shadow of it, the cut in the earth. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd brought the litter here. Would he have done it immediately? Or would he have waited? Would he have noticed the sluggish movement of the living cub? The movements of his possibly living siblings? Or would that have gone long unnoticed -- no motion to capture the eye until they'd been left to expose, dying slowly and unseen?

Jensen shut his eyes.

No one can know such things.

The clouds, moved by the wind far above them, shadowed their patch of ground, bringing cool relief from the unblinking eye of the sun. Jensen felt as still as the mountain, and Jeff spoke again in his silence.

'It is time that they were brought back to the light, alpha.'

Jensen opened his eyes, looking back up at Jeff.

'I...don't know where to go from here,' he answered, finally, finding his voice difficult in the wake of his mourning.

'We never do. We can only stumble forward, as blind as newborns, and hope that we are doing right.'

Jensen looked down at the ground, feeling wane and hollowed out, as if he'd been carrying all that moisture around with him, and now that he'd shed it, cried it out, there was nothing left to him but a vessel, empty and without impetus. A wasted carcass to carry the gift, holding nothing inside.

'I don't know how to come back from this. How does anyone come back from this?'

'As we ever come back from anything -- the pain will never diminish, but, with time, you will think of it less. Until it is a part of you, like any other scar.'

'Who did you lose...?' he asked, needing to know, like a cub before an elder, instead of the alpha that he was, looking up at his inferior.

'You,' Jeff replied, a soft purr to his voice. 'We have been losing you.'

Jensen swallowed, taking a deep breath as something heavy set itself up inside of him, made for itself a home. That feeling of responsibility, and, perhaps, the desire to honor it. The desire to let the weight of those bodies go.

'You have to come back, Jensen'hrao...'

'I know.'

'You have to become alpha again.'

'I know.

'Because if you don't, someone else will.'

Jensen let out a snort, shaking his head. He wasn't afraid of a challenger. He'd proven himself again and again to be one of the finest fighters in their pride, and he'd worked hard to prove his worth for eight years. There were no other young males that were his equal. As bad as things were, he still had time. Or so he thought.

'And if someone else won't,' Jeff continued. 'Then I will.'

That snapped Jensen out of his reverie. His head jerked up, and he stared at Jeff in confusion, taken by complete surprise.

'But, you've always said... You didn't want it. You didn't want to be alpha. You abstained from the trials, renounced your right to compete.'

'You are correct -- I do not want to be alpha. I am uncomfortable with the idea of being alpha. But this pride needs one, regardless. As surely as you are falling apart now, so will we, soon enough. Then the autumn will come in, and behind it the winter, and who will have ordered the hunters to stock the meat sheds? Who will have checked the cabin rooves for leaks? Who will be sure to negotiate with the humans about our hunting grounds and ensure that the fertiles and their young are safe and snug? Who will keep us together, united, when the cold and the snow threatens to tear us apart? When Saul'hrao's great eye is hidden from us, closed and wan, who will keep our family whole? It isn't you. Not now, at least.'

Jeff turned his head, looking out over the wide expanse of the valley, the unending wind stirring his frill to dance and wave.

'I don't want to be alpha,' he continued, his gaze distant but firm. 'But we are alone now. Drifting and listless. And if you won't fight for your place, then I must fight you for it. It will sadden me -- tear me apart -- but I will banish you from this pride before I let you bring it to its knees.'

Jensen wasn't far gone enough to be unable to read the regret in Jeff's posture, in his face, despite his highly held head. Jeff would do it, and do it without question, and he would regret it the rest of his days. Not his choice to fight Jensen, but Jensen's choice to force Jeff to fight him.

And that was the moment that Jensen realized that he had a choice.

That it was, in fact, his choice to make, and no one else's, and even inaction was itself an action. If he stayed here, chose to languish as his cubs had, he would force the hand of his betas, lose the respect of his mother's name, and drive his pride to the grief he himself was suffering.

It wasn't as if realizing all of that somehow made it easy. The path was still hard, still almost impossibly steep and each step invisible before him, but it was that or slide back and vanish, and force the journey onto the backs of others. Even with that knowledge, however, Jensen wasn't certain he was strong enough to make it.

There was doubt in him, where there never had been before. There was the possibility of failure where he'd always been so sure he'd succeed. The confident young hunter who'd fought to become a beta, and the eager young beta who'd taken down challenger after challenger until he stood victorious, had never had to wonder if he was right, or if he was capable. He had never had to question himself before. He'd never known that doubt that those who weren't alpha struggled with.

And now, irrevocably changed, he knew it.

'What will you do?' Jeff asked, finally, his voice still even, but Jensen could scent the trepidation in it, the slight pause, a cat waiting for the word of his alpha. Believing in that word.

Jensen breathed in the air of the mountain, free only because it had chosen to let go of the weight that kept it bound, only because it had chosen to leave the earth behind, and he filled his lungs with it.

When he got to his feet, he felt a different weight against his skin, something new, and old, and familiar. Something he'd fought for, once. Bled for, once. Something he'd struggled to earn, and the divine right to carry it.

'I will go home. And I will choose to take the thorn out.'

Chapter Text

Jared gingerly poked at his nose, automatically wrinkling it and then quickly regretting the action.

Definitely not broken, but still bruised and tender. It'd been about twenty four hours since the actual blow, and Jared's nose was now an attractive shade of brown, yellow and maybe even a little bit of purple. The dark colors stuck out in the corners of his vision, constantly distracting him, and he'd consigned himself to the chair in Misha and Julie's cabin, convalescing. Tristan was sitting in Jared's lap, batting at his hands every time Jared moved, Jared doing his best to ignore the kitten's attempts to get in the way.

"Jared," Misha's voice interrupted his nose-poking, and Jared looked up from where he was sitting. His friend(he was pretty comfortable calling Julie and Misha friends, at this point, having lived with them for over a week) was hovering in the doorway, looking uneasy, which was never a good sign.

"Oh god," Jared groaned. "What now?"

"The alpha..." Misha started, and that was never a good start to any sentence. "You can say no. I absolutely understand if you don't want to. And I will defend your right to refuse--"

"Misha," Jared interrupted, really just wanting the guy to spit it out.

"He would like to talk with you."

"Shit, man," Jared said, letting out a breath of relief. "The way you were talking had me imagining all kinds of medieval horrors. Talking is what I've been wanting to do."

"Are you sure?" Misha asked, with that too-tender, concerned look, like Jared was a battered housewife or something. "You don't have to..."

"Dude." Jared shook his head, putting Tristan on the floor and pushing himself to stand. "It's cool. Trust me. I want us to talk. Hell, I've been waiting for him to be ready to talk." He walked over, clapping a hand on Misha's shoulder. "Really, it's fine--"

He cut off when he saw through the doorway, behind Misha, Jensen was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to the cabin, a hangdog look on his face. Hangcat, perhaps.

"Oh, Christ, you meant like...right now. Okay." Jared was tempted to rub his nose self-consciously, but quickly remembered not to, because ow. He gave Misha another pat on the shoulder, flashing him the most reassuring smile he knew how to with his nose lit up like a black and blue Christmas tree. "We'll go for a walk. I'll be fine, really."

Misha still had that doubtful look to him, his body tense, and Jared understood that there was more going on here for Misha than their was him. The weight of responsibility rested on Misha's shoulders.

Jared shoved past his friend, Misha's body taking up most of the doorway, and walked out onto the front stoop of the cabin, looking down at the alpha of the Blue Ridge Pride.

"...so," Jared started. "Hi."

The very last thing that Jared had expected to happen, somewhere behind Jensen bursting into song and way behind Jensen punching him in the face again, was to see the alpha fold his legs neatly, placing his hands on his thighs as his legs tucked themselves beneath his body, and kneel before Jared, bowing over. The whole posture, while repentant, still somehow managed to come off as confident and assertive, despite the fact that he was on his knees before someone.

Jared supposed that's what it meant to be an alpha -- controlled and powerful, even when bowing your head.

"I wish to apologize to you, for my actions yesterday. I never should have touched you, let alone harmed you. I betrayed the customs and beliefs of my people, and betrayed the upbringing my mother gave to me by striking you. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I will carry the shame of my impulsive--"

"Woah, woah, woah," Jared halted him right there, because, wow. Holy crap. "Look, you punched me for saying an asshole thing. It's not like you pissed on my grandma's grave."

Both Jensen and Misha gave him baffled looks. Jared tried again.

"All I'm saying is, where I come from, when a couple of guys have issues with each other, they say some nasty shit, make a few 'your mama' jokes, punch each other in the face, and then buy each other some beers. Get a little shit faced, tell each other they 'love each other, man', and there, problem's fixed and worked through. So...let's just skip the vaguely homoerotic drunk declarations and say we're good, okay?"

Jensen stared up at him, blinking a few times. Jared made a sound of disgust, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying I forgive you. Okay?"

"O...kay," Jensen repeated, after a moment.

"So, c'mon..." Jared motioned with his hands, trying to get Jensen up off his knees. "Get up."

Jensen's eyes flicked back and forth, uncertainly, two people of two obviously different cultures trying to come to an understanding, but he pushed himself to his feet without objection, even if he looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jared turned to Misha behind him.

"I'll be fine, I promise. We'll just go for a walk around town--"

"Pride ground."

"Pride ground, and you can have a little alone time with your wife--"

"Mate."

"Mate, sure. And all will be well."

Misha made a face, whether at the suggestion or at Jared's human terminology, it was unclear, but he eventually capitulated, not willing to impede any potential progress.

Jared made his way down the steps, Tristan following along at his ankles, butt wiggling before every leap at the edge of a stair, until he made it down onto the ground. Jared glanced at Jensen and nodded in greeting, not sold that this was necessarily going to be a success, but it was a step in the right direction, at least, and Jared was willing to take a chance on that.

"I don't really know my way around, so..." he started, gesturing to wherever. "Why don't you lead the way."

Jensen merely nodded in reply, turning away from the cabin and Misha's careful gaze, leading Jared, and consequently Tristan, along with him.

They were silent at first. The two of them walked through the cover of the trees, both trapped in their thoughts, and, Jared was fairly certain, by uncomfortable reminder of their two previous, disastrous meetings.

"So," Jensen started, grasping his hands behind his back. "Tell me... tell me about the cub."

"Tristan?" Jared glanced down at the little guy, who was taking five steps to every one of Jared's and still scrabbling along to keep up. He smiled down at the cub. "He's pretty good. A huge handful, but...he makes up for it by being pretty cute."

"And...the others ones." Jensen swallowed dryly, eyes trained firmly on the ground. "The other five..."

"...sorry," Jared replied, smile fading. He had no good news there. "When I found them, they were already..."

"But...did it look like they'd been alive?" Jensen stopped walking, turning to look at Jared with a kind of desperation in his eyes. Jared halted his motion as well, turning to look at the other werecat, Jensen's eyes pleading and intense. "Do you think any others were alive when I put them in the basket?"

Jared licked his lips slowly, considering his words.

"I didn't see any sign that any others had been alive. I can't say for certain that they weren't... That's what you been thinking about, this whole time?"

Jensen nodded, expression tortured as he spoke.

"I couldn't stand the thought that I'd sentenced them to that... It was why I--..." He shrugged once. "It's no excuse for my actions, but it is, at least, the reason."

Jared could understand that. He suddenly saw, in light of this new information, why the other man had been freaking out so badly. It must have been more than just rough to find out that one of his kids had been alive, wondering if maybe others had been as well. Others that might still have been alive if they hadn't been sent down the river.

Jared softened, reaching out to put one broad hand over Jensen's shoulder.

"You can't torture yourself with that, man. Right now? There's nothing you can do for those five. No matter what happened, there's nothing that can be done for it now. But Tristan is here, and alive, and he's your son...Here is where you get to make a difference."

Jensen looked down, and as much as the man had pissed him off, Jared had genuinely meant it when he'd said Jensen was forgiven. Jared wasn't going to call an asshole anything but an asshole, but he also understood that there was a damned heavy reason for why Jensen had been acting the way he had. Before now, Jared had chalked it up to Jensen losing his kids, but now he knew it was something even worse than that.

It was a lot for any one person to carry.

Jared squeezed Jensen's shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked, after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Y-yeah, it's just--"

"I get it."

Jared gave another quick squeeze before dropping his hand, offering the other man a tight smile, and he was glad to see it returned.

"Thank you. For your forgiveness. And...for your advice." Jensen looked down at the cub, then crouched there, reaching out a hand to let the little one sniff. "You are right, of course. He is here, and that is what's important."

Jared let out a shaky breath, not realizing just how much he wanted to hear someone say that, to see someone engaging with Tristan like this. The cub approached Jensen with caution, but still social and eager to greet, edging up until he could sniff at Jensen's knuckle, then rub the side of his face against it. Jensen let out a wet huff of laughter, and if his eyes seemed a little moist, Jared didn't call him on it.

"...Tristan, you said," Jensen finally spoke, coughing to clear the hazy quality of his voice. Jared decided to just sit down where they were, a fairly secluded spot in the wooded area. He sat cross legged, putting one hand on either knee as he watched Tristan interact with Jensen. With his father.

"Yeah," Jared replied, smiling a little. "Tristan."

"That is...a strange name," Jensen replied awkwardly, obviously trying to be polite while still inquiring as to how the cub got his name.

"It's my middle name," Jared replied, one eyebrow arching.

"Oh, uh."

Jared smirked.

"I had this bear when I was a kid--" Jared paused at Jensen's shocked expression and clarified, realizing that Jensen thought he meant an actual bear. "No, like, a teddy bear. A stuffed animal. I took it everywhere with me, when I was little. I didn't really get the whole concept of middle names, so when my mom got mad at me and yelled 'Jared Tristan!' I thought she was yelling at me and my bear. I thought 'Tristan' was his name, so that's what I started calling him."

He glanced down at the cub, who'd turned his attention away from Jensen and was burrowing into some leaves. Jared smiled fondly.

"As for this guy... I got tired of calling him 'dude' after a couple of weeks, and he's kind of got that teddy bear look." Jared shrugged a bit. "So I went with Tristan."

"I see," Jensen responded, listening to Jared's story with an attentive look, and he watched Tristan's antics.

"You're lucky," Jared added. "For awhile there I considered naming him 'Simba.'"

Jensen's expression didn't flicker with any hint of recognition, just looked at Jared curiously.

"Oh c'mon, you have to have seen The Lion King."

"I haven't. Does he live in America?"

Jared rubbed his forehead.

"Anyways...What do you think you'd have named him? You know, if you'd..." Jared let his voice trail off.

"I don't know... I'm not sure what I would have named him in particular, separate of the other five. I suppose...I was thinking of naming one of them after my grandfather, Nathaniel."

"You still could, you know," Jared swooped in there. "I mean...he's your kid."

"I don't think I have the right to claim that, right now."

Jared's expression fell, thinking they'd gone beyond this, finally, and he knew he looked a bit pissed, mouth opening, when Jensen cut him off.

"No! No, I didn't mean it...like that. I don't mean that I'm denying it, anymore. What I mean is...I would like to be his father. But I can't just step in and claim that in one day. After the way I've treated him, and you... I need to earn his trust, before I can claim any kind of responsibility over him."

Jared's brow unfurrowed, relaxing a little at that, having been afraid, for a moment, that Jensen was still going to shirk off his place as Tristan's father. This...well. This Jared could deal with, at least.

"He's still just a baby," Jared reminded. "He's not going to remember any of this, as he grows up."

"I know...But you've raised him, nursed him, cared for him and named him...It would be wrong of me, after the way I've acted, to swoop in and take that from you, as if my blood link with him makes me a parent and you not."

"Hey, I brought him here so that he could be with his family."

"And he is." Jensen was looking at Jared like that meant something more, and it made Jared squirm. "And he will be, as well, I hope. But I want him to get to know me first. I want him to trust me, of his own free will, and not because I force myself forward as his sole guardian."

Jared swallowed and nodded, and he couldn't argue with that. He wanted Tristan to feel safe here, when Jared left, and that wasn't going to happen overnight. Tristan needed a chance to learn that this man, currently a stranger to him, was his family, and Jared couldn't deny that he was glad to hear Jensen thinking this through from Tristan's perspective -- looking out for what Tristan needed from a parent, and not what Jensen needed from Tristan in terms of emotional support.

"So, I would like it very much, with your permission, if I could visit you, once a day, to spent time with you and...and Tristan."

"I think we'd like that very much," Jared agreed, smiling slowly but with warmth. He reached out, picking up Tristan, who squirmed and growled in frustration, denied his leaf chasing. Jared hugged the cub to his chest. "Well, Tristan...I want you to meet your dad."

Jared held the cub out, and felt something in his chest pinch tight at the smile on Jensen's face -- aching and still full of pain, but also full of hope. The expression of a man looking at the endless possibilities, both good and bad, of his future.

"...it's good to finally meet you, Tristan," Jensen spoke up, finally, voice rough. He reached out, touching Tristan's soft little paws and fuzzy cheek, and the cub put up with it for a moment, before he decided that the adults were boring and started doing the 'put me down put me down' dance. Jared chuckled, releasing the cub, watching him dash away.

"Thank you." Jensen's voice caught his attention, Jared turning back to look at the other man curiously. "For all that you did. For saving him."

"Hey." Jared shrugged his shoulders, self-conscious, glancing away. "Anyone would have."

He blinked in surprise when he felt callused fingers catch his chin, turning his head back to meet the soft retracting velvet of Jensen's eyes, verdant forest green and focused on him.

"Perhaps. But at the end of the day, it was you who did it."

Jared swallowed hard at that, vision caught, and it was kind of intense, having the alpha staring him down like that, holding his head firm but tender, and he didn't know quite what to say, or if he was meant to say anything at all. The customs and ways of the ailure were as foreign to him as if he'd been dropped off in a country he'd never been to, never read about, regardless of the fact that he was one of them. He never knew quite what any one action or word meant, constantly guessing and just throwing things out there on the off chance that they were right.

But, for once, his mind was blank, and he couldn't come up with anything.

Jensen's thumb swiped over his chin, and then the alpha's hand dropped away and he was getting up. He held the very same hand out to Jared, to help him up. Jared swallowed dryly and reached up, letting Jensen pull him to his feet.

"So, you'll, uh, be around?" Jared started awkwardly, hearing Tristan somewhere behind him.

"I will, and...thank you. For more than I could list."

"Yeah, I..." Jared smiled a little, couldn't help it, ducking his head a little under the praise. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yes," Jensen agreed, dropping Jared's hand and giving him a similar smile. "Tomorrow."

Chapter Text

Leaving the Blue Ridge Pride wouldn't have been so hard if it hadn't have been so easy to become a part of them.

By the time the time they were tasting mid July, Jared was so comfortable in his new life that he hadn't even noticed he'd been there for a month. At first, every day nagged at him, reminding him that this was only temporary, that he had to go soon. But then that day would pass into warm night, and soon enough he'd be bedding down on his lump of blankets and pillows, Tristan curling up against his belly. Jared would convince himself that tomorrow would be the day, and before he knew it, tomorrow would come, and he'd put off leaving for the next day.

He no longer had the excuse of recovery: two weeks of solid eating and regular rest, and he could safely say he was looking better than he had in weeks. Maybe months.

Maybe, two years.

He couldn't help but recognize that it wasn't just the food and sleep that was doing him good. For the first time in two years, he had more than just a book for companionship. He woke up to Tristan and Julie and the other cubs, watched Julie herd them all outside and set them to play. He'd watch them run around and mewl at Julie until she capitulated, laying down to let them nurse. Misha would return home from early patrol and collapse for a few hours, ignoring whichever of his kitten's decided to chew on his ear while he got some shut eye.

The two cats hosting him, however, were far from his only friends here. Adrianne came by often enough, and even dragged him to the Cove a few times, where he ended up meeting more fertiles than he could remember all the names for, Cosette more often than not amongst them, eager to spend time with Tristan. Jeff was usually there, guarding his post, but Jared rarely got a chance to talk to him, the big black cat not seeming one for much chit chat, despite the fact that Jared often saw other, less easily intimidated fertiles talking his ear off. More of a listener, it turned out.

The Cove was always the perfect temperature. Cool in the shade when the sun was high, and warm in the evenings when the light dragged out, and there were always other fertiles around, lazing about napping, or talking with one another, kittens and cubs of various ages left to play in safety, watched over by whoever was closest. One, in particular, stood out to him.

It was a fertile named Clayton, who'd given birth to a litter of five that spring. Jared had met other male fertiles over the past couple of weeks, but it was Clayton in particular that interested him. He couldn't help but envy the casual way the other werecat would setting into the Cove, his kittens curled up with him or playing, occasionally coming back to nurse.

'You can pick them up, you know,' Clayton had finally remarked one day, apparently becoming sick of Jared just staring at him. Jared flushed a little, not realizing he'd been quite so obvious.

"Oh, uh... sorry."

'Don't be. They're pretty cute. I can't deny it.' Clayton was laying on his side, eyes shut, and Jared was reminded of the old saying about mother's having eyes in the backs of their heads.

Jared was sitting nearby, having walked out there in his human form for a change. He'd regretted that a little, when he'd had to make his way over the ridge, edging along the path with his heart in his throat, but some days he just felt like walking upright.

'So,' Clayton asked, surprising Jared again. The other ailure rolled over onto his stomach, lifting his head from the ground, forelegs extended as he blinked lazily over at Jared. The kittens under him scrambled away, squeaking their protests. 'What is it that you've been wanting to ask me?'

"I...don't have anything in particular."

'You've been watching me for the last few days, you know. You're not subtle.'

"Yeah, no, I get that..." Jared mumbled, flushing a little deeper. "But I still don't have anything in particular."

'Why me? Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, but it seems like whatever you're curious about could as easily be answered by Adrianne, or Julie. Or Jeff, for that matter.'

It had taken him awhile to get used to it, given how massive and burly the beta looked, but it turned out that Jeff kind of bridged the divide between the fertiles and the dominants. Even though he looked like a linebacker of a cat, he was kind of thought of as an 'honorary fertile,' which would have been hilarious, if he didn't still find Jeff a bit terrifying.

"...you're a guy," Jared finally admitted stiffly, a little embarrassed to even talk about it. He was aware how insulting the conversation could be, to Clayton. After all, when Jared called himself a freak, he was, unavoidably, calling all male fertiles freaks as well. He was also aware that none of the ailure could understand his problems, when it came to this.

'...yes,' Clayton said, a hint of a question there, obviously not certain where Jared was going with this.

"So...what do your kids call you?"

'They don't call me anything at the moment. I get little bursts of feelings or thoughts from them, but they won't start using language for a few more months yet.'

"Yeah, but...what will they call you?"

'Mother. Mama. I'm not sure yet. I haven't--... I'm not going to pick out a particular permutation for them to use, if that's what you're asking. Any of them are fine.'

"No, but I mean... You're a guy."

'...I still don't understand.'

"You're a guy, and...you're a mom. How do you do that?"

'How do I not?' Clayton shook his head a little. 'I am, unavoidably, both. One of them is how I was born. The other is at the core of me. I'm afraid I'm still missing whatever it is that you're getting at.'

"For me... For humans, only women are 'moms'. If you're a guy, you're a 'dad'."

'But I'm not their dad. Their father. I gave birth to them.'

"So... You think that giving birth is what makes you a mother?" Jared asked, picking at his nails and studiously staring at them, biting at his lower lip. For some reason, that made him think of Tristan, and his stomach churned.

'I think that being a mother makes you a mother,' Clayton answered, but answered nothing.

"Yeah, I...thanks," was all Jared could say, putting his hands down to get up, and glanced one of Clayton's kittens sniffing at him. He paused, letting the cub inspect, and reaching over to rub its little head before pushing himself to his feet.

It wasn't like he didn't get it -- at least, to an extent.

He could see it, and understand it, and accept it as normal in this strange, other world, but he still couldn't apply it to himself somehow, as if he were still different. As if he were still human -- as if he'd ever been.

It wasn't something he talked about much, anymore. And even with Clayton, he'd walked out before the conversation could go too far. It was pretty clear that it was just one of those things that was different between the culture of the pride and the culture that Jared had been raised in, and he could never explain it to them that it didn't matter that he'd always been an ailure, and it didn't matter that it was normal for males to have children. It just didn't matter to Jared that to them, in their eyes, his body was normal. Jared's eyes were irrevocably human, and what he saw was something different from them.

When he watched Clayton with his cubs, he felt no disgust, no revulsion. It seemed perfectly natural, and Jared could accept it as something almost beautiful, in a National Geographic kind of way -- something that fit, that worked, for another society, another people, but just didn't work for him.

Despite that, he couldn't deny that it was nice to know that no one thought of him as a freak. The fact that he had heats, that he could nurse a child, the fact that his body made itself damp and ready for a mate, to carry children, was a known fact to the ailure, but to them, it was as known as the river being wet, or the sky being blue. It just was, and there was nothing more to it. It wasn't really something that was thought of much, or mentioned, and Jared would never be able to explain to them why it was thought of, for him.

He knew enough to wish he could see it that way, but he hadn't been raised on a mountainside, told the stories of the honored first fertile. He hadn't been raised to hunt and to run, to find a mate, and he'd never heard the name Saul'hrao until a month ago. Jared came from Wyoming, from a nice little two story house out in the middle of nowhere at the end of a long dirt road, with a nice little garden of azaleas in the front. Jared came from afternoons of watching reruns of the Dukes of Hazard, and evenings forced to watch Jim Lehrer with his parents, clumped together awkwardly with his brother's jostling him on the couch. Jared was too used to high school hallways and locker rooms, hanging out in the courtyard during lunch hour and poking fun at every little thing that didn't fit.

Being human was an irrevocable part of who he was.

But, for whatever short time he would be here, he had to admit, quietly and to himself, that it was nice to have friends who knew exactly what he was, and saw no shame in it.

Between those friends, between Misha and Julie, Adrianne, Jeff, and 'Auntie' Cosette, there wasn't room for any kind of loneliness anymore. His days were filled with the pride, as easy to accept him as if he'd been born there, even if that threw Jared for a loop every time.

And then, there was Jensen.

Jensen, who he'd seen every day for the last three weeks, watching the other cat bond with Tristan, play with Tristan, and for how bad their initial meetings had been, it was Jensen that Jared felt a strange, almost preternatural bond with.

It didn't seem it from the outside. Misha was more like Jared in personality, and when the captain wasn't busy with his work, the two of them were most likely to be found playing with the cubs, or making a mess in the main house while Jared tried to read from an old recipe book to Misha. And Adrianne was someone Jared could talk to for hours and not get bored, covering every topic he could think of, each of them with an insatiable curiosity for each other's cultures, her wishing to know more about human society, and him more about ailure.

In comparison, Jared's times with Jensen were quiet and almost dull, the older werecat not much given to conversation, and even when he was feeling friendly his demeanor couldn't exactly be described as 'warm'. But that didn't seem to matter.

Watching him with Tristan, as awkward and fumbling as he was, that look of near terror every time he interacted with his son, like he was going to fuck it all up massively, made Jared smile every time. It was impossible not to, watching a cub the size of a football intimidate a werecat the size of an ATV.

It took two weeks before that look of sheer terror faded, and Jared would remember it down to the day -- the three of them down at the edge of the river, trying to convince Tristan that the water wasn't going to kill him. Jared didn't blame the kid. After all, he'd had two interactions with the river thus far: Jared screaming at him to keep him from jumping in, and the two of them almost getting swept away during their trek to find the pride.

But time had passed since then, and Tristan was bigger. There was a calm section of river, just to the west of pride ground, that the ailure, both young and old, frequently used for swimming, and Jared didn't want the cub to be terrified of the water for the rest of his life. Or, at least, the river, since Tristan didn't have difficulty rolling around in the shallow water of the stream at the Cove.

'Come on, now,' Jensen encouraged, up to his shoulders in the sediment darkened water. 'See? I'm out in the river, and I'm fine. You'll be fine too.'

Tristan gave Jensen a look that couldn't have more clearly said 'You have got to be shitting me' if he'd actually spoken the words. Jared rolled around on his back on the bank, paws in the air, laughing.

'You're not helping, you know...' Jensen remarked, and Jared rolled back over onto his side, eyes glinting with feline pleasure as he watched the alpha make a fool of himself.

'I don't remember ever offering to help, mighty alpha.'

'You know, I liked it better when you just called me 'Jensen'. When you call me alpha, it always sounds like you don't really mean it.'

'Whatever would give you that idea?' Jared replied, kneading his paws through the loose rocks on the shore. He'd been told by one of the younger fertiles that it was disrespectful to refer to Jensen as anything other than 'alpha' or 'Jensen'hrao', whatever the hell that meant, and since then he'd taken to adding completely unnecessary adjectives to the title, like 'mighty' and 'The Great and Powerful.'

'Tristan...' Jensen tried again, in his most reassuring voice. 'Trust me. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. I'll make sure you're safe.'

Tristan considered the proposition, edging down to the water, then reconsidered his options and scrambled back. Jared chuckled and got to his feet, strolling casually down to the water's edge.

'Thought you said you weren't doing to help?' Jensen asked ruefully.

'It's hot as balls and the water looks nice and cool. Also, I'm throwing you a rope here, buddy, so quit your bitching,' Jared responded without heat as he slid into the water, and it wasn't a lie -- it was pretty refreshing. He let out a purr of contentment as the water slid through his fur, pleasantly cool against his warm skin. He could hear Tristan whine and growl in worry from the shore. Jared paddled around to face him.

'Well, I'm in here now,' he said to the kitten. 'If you want to get to me, you're going to have to get in too.'

Tristan let out a squeaky yowl in protest.

'Yes, well. Too bad for you.' Jared took little note of Tristan's whining, the kitten trotting up and down the bank, clearly worried that the river was going to up and drown both Jensen and Jared at any moment. Jared wasn't above a little tough love.

Mostly because it worked.

A few minutes later, in a fit of desperation, Tristan threw himself into the water, ineffectively paddling out to the two older cats.

'There you go,' Jensen encouraged, swimming around to Tristan's other side, so that the kitten was enclosed by the two adults, perfectly safe if he couldn't keep himself up. All of Tristan's concentration was focused on keeping himself afloat, though, and he splashed his way out to a rock, climbing up, looking as wet and bedraggled as could be, panting a little.

'Looks like you won,' Jared commented, glancing over at Tristan's father. 'You got him swimming.'

Jensen didn't reply though. Jared blinked when he looked at the other ailure, Jensen's eyes fixed solely on Tristan as the cub settled himself on the rock, taking a few seconds to get over his little panic attack. When he seemed more certain, curiosity overriding his fear, he slid cautiously down the rock towards the water, claws scraping against stone until he fell in with a merp. He bobbed back to the surface a second later, paddling around in the shallows, a shy confidence returning to his bright teal eyes as he conquered the river.

Jensen, though, looked as if he had conquered something quiet different.

Jared remembered that moment, set it up in his memory. It was the first moment that he could see Tristan in Jensen, the first moment that Jensen looked, without fear or hesitation, like a father. Like Tristan's father, instead of some nervous outsider trying to awkwardly situate himself.

Jared swallowed, glancing away when he became aware he was staring, seeing out of the corner of his eye Jensen lean down to nuzzle the cub as he swam by, Jensen sitting half in and half out of the water. Further up the river there was the cry of a red-tailed hawk, somewhere distant in the wanning light of the day, the river flowing onward, unconcerned with all the life existing around it.

Jared had only been here a month, but it felt like longer. It felt like those two years, as stretched out and long as they'd seemed, existed only in a dream. Or a nightmare. A brief flash of memory-less solitude, each day unremarkable, each day the same as the last and without note, until they all faded into a grey blur.

Even though, at the time, it had felt like it went on forever, when Jared looked back, sitting in the pleasantly cool river, watching Jensen bond with his cub, the cub that Jared had nursed and raised, Jared found he could barely remember those two years. And he didn't want to. It felt, the longer he was here, that they were fading out, disappearing back to whatever hellish place they'd come from.

He heard the water splash as Jensen moved, getting up and wading out to Tristan before the cub swam too deep, and brought him back to shore. The alpha cat shook himself thoroughly once he was out of the water, droplets flying everywhere and making his fur stick up in all directions. He paused, noticing Jared's eyes on him, and looked over at the other ailure questioningly.

Jared just shook his head and smiled, breaking his reverie. He glanced down at his reflection in the water, though, the image of Jensen, framed by the dying North Carolina sun and wet fur burning with its light, still present in his mind.

In in the calm of the water, the cicadas loud and wild as night began to come in, Jared could admit to himself, for the first time:

I don't want to leave here.

Chapter Text

Jensen hadn't originally thought the newcomer would be of much consequence to Jensen personally.

It wasn't that he was being cold, or that Jared didn't seem nice, once Jensen started to get to know him, it was just that his pride traded members with other prides every twenty years or so. It was normal for them to absorb new members, Jensen was used to it, and, surely, this would just be another new member. Obviously, Jared would have some greater significance for Jensen, in that he was a parent to Jensen's son, as easily so as Jensen was, if not more. They would be friends. Or so Jensen hoped.

And at first, Jensen didn't notice him much beyond that. Not coldly, or cruelly. He acknowledged Jared as best he could, wanting to get to know him, eager to, in fact, but for the first week after he'd made amends, he only had eyes for his son.

He'd always wanted to be a father. He'd always thought he'd be good at it. Of course, it turned out the moment he had a child, he turned into the lowest kind of ailure, detestable in every way. It seemed only fitting after watching all those in his littergroup mate off, after watching even Misha, who'd always sworn he would be a terrible parent and would be no good with authority, end up with a beautiful fertile heavy with his kittens, the two of them content in their home, their den, together.

He'd been happy for his friends, his family, but he couldn't deny the faint beat of jealousy in his chest. He had his pride, and they depended on him, and that was enough, but even so... It was merely a dream deferred.

Until Cosette had offered him a chance.

Jensen couldn't help but feel he had a lot to make up for, between sending the cubs down the river, and then rejecting Tristan outright when he arrived. Jared had pointed out to him, when the guilt hit him the worst, that Tristan didn't know any better. He was still too young to grasp language, and to him Jensen was just that guy who came in and yelled that one time -- Jensen had plenty more chances to reintroduce himself. Tristan wouldn't remember, Jared would say, five years from now, ten, that his father had rejected him for a week. He would only know Jensen as the dad that loved him.

All the same, Jensen would remember.

So at first, he was so wound up in impressing himself to Tristan that he forgot everything else. He was even distracted when handling his job as alpha -- though at least Misha and his betas were willing to cut him some slack, now that it was apparent that he was trying. He spent some time, every afternoon, with his son. Some days Tristan wanted nothing to do with him or Jared or any adult, and Jensen was sidelined, just sitting to watch Tristan play with other cubs in his littergroup. Other days Tristan wanted to use Jensen as his own personal jungle gym(Jensen didn't know what that was, but Jared referred to him as it, so it was obviously relevant), climbing over his neck and back, chewing on Jensen's frill.

By far, Jensen's favorite kind of days were the ones where Tristan had played himself out, to the point where he could barely move, and Jensen could hold his kitten in his arms, or tuck him up against his fur, and tell him the stories of the First Pride, spinning them word for word from memory, the voice of his mother in Jensen's head.

And because of all of that, at first, it was a little hard to notice Jared, beyond their casual conversation.

It wasn't because Jared wasn't good to talk to, because he was. And it wasn't because Jensen didn't appreciate Jared's easy forgiveness -- he was extremely appreciative. And it certainly wasn't because Jared was boring. With his human upbringing, Jared was possibly the strangest ailure that Jensen had ever met and endlessly interesting.

It really had nothing to do with Jared so much as it had to do with Tristan, and it was a couple of weeks until Jensen felt himself settle some, come down off of high alert and relax into the motions of being a parent. To not be afraid that he was still failing, and obsess over every act and word.

But once he did notice him, more than just a companion to talk to, more than just Tristan's other parent, more than just their strange newcomer, Jensen found himself warming quickly to him. Jared was kind and sociable, if a bit strange and unaware of his own heritage. It was a little awkward to talk to him at first, until the bruise across Jared's nose faded away, that constant reminder of how Jensen had fucked up. But Jared seemed to be genuine in his forgiveness, not holding a grudge against Jensen, or turning Jensen's child against him. Jared's ease of acceptance was impressive, and Jensen had to work hard not to end up impressed.

So, he went from not really noticing Jared to being quite interested in him.

And once he became interested in him, the mystery of Jared popped out in bright relief, and a dozen new questions a day moved through Jensen's head as he spent his afternoons with the other ailure.

Jared was young, only nineteen. How had a nineteen year old come to be left out alone in the woods? How had he come to be raised by humans? What was it like, being raised by humans? What was that kind of world like? Where did Jared come from and who was he? Why had he taken a cub in, suckled that cub, loved it, then decided to bring it back?

And why, when ailure needed pride to live, when they needed each other, was Jared so determined to see himself alone? Jensen couldn't imagine sequestering himself away. Even the fertiles, who needed to seclude themselves during their heats, would stay together at Urrou's Cove, to comfort and keep each other company.

The questions about Jared were quiet ones at first, easily pushed to the back of Jensen's mind as he and Jared talked while Tristan climbed a tree, or while they helped clean up the mess that Tristan and the other cubs had made of Julie and Misha's den. But as time went on, the questions became louder, more prominent, and, despite himself, Jensen found his eyes more and more often flicking over to Jared in some attempt to solve the puzzle that was the younger ailure.

It was why, one Sunday afternoon, when Jensen had bounded down from the main house for his daily visit, and arrived to find out that Tristan was spending the afternoon with his 'Aunt Cosette', he sheltered away his twinge of disappointment, and took the opportunity presented him.

Jared was obviously expecting Jensen to leave again, once he'd found out that Tristan wasn't there, but Jensen had no such intention.

'Hold up,' he asked, as Jared was making his way back up the steps.

The fertile stopped, half turning to look over his shoulder, and Jensen's eyes traveled over Jared's distinctive markings -- darkened forelegs, with striping over his shoulders and back. Unusual for a fertile to have any markings whatsoever, let alone ones so prominent, and it was something that Jensen had noticed every time that Jared was in his cat form, but had never had the chance to ask about.

'Yeah?' Jared asked, tail flicking with curiosity.

'I was wondering...hoping, that we could talk?' He quickly sensed Jared's unease, and hastened to placate. 'Nothing bad. I just... I've been getting to know Tristan. But I would also like to get to know you.'

Jared seemed surprised at that, though Jensen was uncertain why he would be. Jensen swiveled his ears forward, perking them up hopefully, and Jared seemed to relent.

'Sure, lemme just go...Change.'

Jensen had expected them just to walk in their natural forms, but it occurred to him, suddenly, that Jared didn't see the cat as his natural form. Jensen found his two legged shape useful, his hands important and his ability to speak with human invaluable, but it was a useful tool, nothing more. To Jared, it was the body he was most comfortable in. Jensen relented, not wanting Jared to feel any added distress.

'I'll meet you up at the main house then.'

-----

Up at the top of the hill that compromised pride ground was the large log house that consisted primarily of the meeting hall -- a large room that took up most of the two stories, with a grand fireplace build into one of the walls, its stone chimney running up into the ceiling. It was a place to weather bad storms in the old days, before the individual cabins were built, though it wasn't unusual for portions of the pride to gather in the main house during the winter. To share warmth or stories, or just the companionship, a family curled together, waiting out the cold months.

Tucked into one corner of the house was the kitchen, the only one on pride ground(so far -- Jensen had plans). It wasn't very big, or well outfitted, and everything in it that still worked was from the seventies, but it sufficed for their needs. Most of the cabins had no plumbing, the pride having to get their water from the well that had been built into the mountain, dug deep into the aquifer below them, but the kitchen in the main house had some rudimentary plumbing, which included a sink.

Of course, the main house wasn't only for meetings. It was the traditional home of the alpha. Jensen's quarters were in the attic, at the top of a ladder that led into a loft. There was one window that let him see out, and in the winter, the smoke going up the chimney heated the space nicely. It wasn't as big as one of the cabins, but it was more than enough, and had been the quarters of the alpha going back generations.

Jensen descended the ladder frontwards, the steps wide and the angle shallow enough to allow that -- enough so that it was comfortable for a cat to run up and down it -- doing up some buttons on his shirt as he did so. The ladder ended in a walkway, which led to a narrow flight of stairs, down to the ground floor. He could already see Jared down there, waiting. His expression looked pinched.

"So," the other ailure started, hands in his pockets. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"It's nothing bad," Jensen repeated, walking down the stairs.

"Just seems...serious."

"You were the one who wanted human forms -- had to come back here for clothes, because, if I recall correctly, you are as startled by nakedness as you are by your true form." He smirked a little when Jared frowned.

"I'm not-- It's just--... People made clothes for a reason."

"Humans made clothes," Jensen reminded, and Jared just puffed out a breath. He stepped out onto the main floor, making his way over to the other ailure, glancing him up and down. Jared was tall -- taller than Jensen by an inch or two, and it was possible he wasn't done growing yet. He was skinny around with boney shoulders, though his proportions had evened out over the time he'd been there. It made Jensen wince a little with guilt, remembering how bad Jared had first looked, and knowing that was because he'd sacrificed his own health for Tristan. Only to have Jensen fling it all back in his face.

"Come," the alpha spoke up again, voice warmer. "Let's go outside, where there's some sun."

He lifted a hand, patting it against Jared's shoulderblade as he guided the younger cat out the front door, over to the sunning rock in front of the house. It jutted out at the top of the rise, giving a perfect view of all of pride ground, and even some of the river, just beyond the trees. The sun was out in full force today, and Jared glanced up at it, blinking in the light.

Jensen sat down on the sunning rock, letting his legs dangle over the edge, and he felt, rather than saw, Jared still giving him curious looks.

"I was serious, you know" Jensen remarked. "I really do just want to talk. Get to know you more. I didn't mean anything by it..." It seemed important, somehow. Jared was being sheltered by Jensen's pride, and that made him someone that Jensen was responsible for. And besides that, Jared had saved Jensen's son and brought him home, nearly killing himself in the effort, and it would take a blind man to miss that Jared loved Tristan. It was in every glance, every touch, every time Jared scolded the cub or brought Tristan's struggling body in for a bath.

If he knew nothing else about Jared, Jensen would know that he was someone good. Someone worth knowing.

"Well." Jared shrugged, leaning back on his hands on the rock, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. "What do you want to know?"'

"Your markings...they're quite distinctive," Jensen commented immediately, knowing that the striping of Jared's coat probably shouldn't have been the foremost thing on his mind, but it was.

"Uh, I guess?" Jared's eyes flicked away uncomfortably. "What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing is wrong with them." Jensen huffed a laugh at the notion. "It's just...fertiles usually don't have any striping or marks. Dominants have markings to impress fertiles, during the mating seasons. After all, it is we who must impress you. They're...odd, but there's nothing wrong with them." He found himself a little surprised to admit that it was quite the opposite -- there was nothing at all wrong with Jared's markings. If anything, Jensen found them quite handsome. It made Jared stand out, even amongst the fertile.

"I...don't know what to tell you." Jared shrugged, his eyes returning to Jensen. "They were just what I was born with."

"I see..." Jensen considered his next question carefully, but eventually decided to try. It might be a little too far, too fast, for their first indepth conversation, a little too invasive, but Jensen was curious, and accustomed to getting all the answers. He had to admit to himself that he was probably too used to being alpha -- too used to people just telling him what he wanted to know. "How did you come to live with humans?"

"Wow, um." Jared fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking down. "That's kind of a long story..."

"I have the time," Jensen reminded. Jared glanced at him and grimaced, but he didn't say no. He was quiet for awhile, and Jensen wondered if he would beg off, shut Jensen down, but the denial never came.

"I mean...this is just what my parents told me--And they're not liars!" he quickly amended, looking to Jensen to make sure the alpha understood that. "They're good people, so I know they were telling the truth. It's just... It's not really my story. I don't remember any of this. I didn't even know I was a werecat, an...an ailure, until I was thirteen."

Jensen couldn't stop his eyes widening at that.

"You...grew up, thinking you were human?" The idea was...horrifying. Not because there was anything wrong with humans. Jensen got along quite well with them, and he'd always championed cooperation between their species. But he pitied any creature raised to believe that it was something that it was not.

To not know themselves.

Jared just nodded, as if it were perfectly normal.

"Yeah. I mean...My brothers and I, we spent the first three years of our lives as cats. Cubs, I guess. And I remember when I was a kid, I used to have dreams about running around on all fours, but... I just thought they were dreams. None of us remembered that far back, after awhile. When we were thirteen, Daniel and Brandon got into this stupid fight over a girl... It ended up getting physical, and then all of a sudden Daniel flipped out, and instead of Daniel, he was this huge mountain lion in the living room." Jared chuckled at the memory. "After that, my parents couldn't really avoid telling us anymore."

"How?" Jensen asked, and realized, from Jared's quizzical look that he though Jensen was asking how Jared's parents couldn't avoid telling them. Jensen tried again. "How did this happen?"

He couldn't fathom how three ailure cubs could end up raised by humans, raised as humans and unknowing all the while, without those cubs' parents or pride objecting.

"Have...uh. Have you ever heard of the Yellowstone Pride?" Jared asked, and that was all it took to answer Jensen's question. A few short words, and Jensen understood immediately, his whole body feeling a rush of cold despite the muggy summer air as he went absolutely still.

The initial incident had happened ten years before Jensen was born, but even so, it was something that had been burned into the consciousness of his people. For the most part, relations between the ailure and humans in the continental US were good. The government defended them, even if they patronizingly thought of them as a kind of animal that needed protecting, and most people, while sometimes obnoxious with their cameras and their staring, were more curious about the ailure than anything else.

But just because things were mostly good didn't mean that there weren't some bad eggs. Even now, there were still religious groups that condemned the ailure, based on human beliefs. Jensen had never quite understood them, no one really explaining human religion to him, just as ailure myth wasn't explained in human schools, but as far as he'd ever been able to tell from the pictures at Yellowstone, it had been a religious sect that believed the ailure were evil. Woe begotten creatures not of their human god.

Jensen could easily pull the pictures into his mind's eye, the images impossible to forget: ailure with their fur half melted, ears dissolved by whatever it was that had been thrown into the Yellowstone pride ground. Miserable beasts crawling around, only half alive, searching for their missing cubs, their missing friends and family. When the pictures had been taken, no one knew what had happened, or what was going to happen, just how bad it would get.

They thought it was just bombs. Just explosions.

The attack had happened at night, the bombs tossed into where the pride had been sleeping. The humans that guarded their park had been there soon after the flames caught in the trees, putting them out, but it hadn't been soon enough. It had been too late, even the minute the first one had gone off.

They just hadn't known it at the time.

The pride had recovered, in the first few weeks. The death toll had been savage, but most of the pride had survived the attack. At the time it was on the human news almost constantly, reels of human news reporters talking about what had happened, what should happen, as well as the most well groomed of ailure representatives explaining the situation. All the prides on the continent had offered their assistance to Yellowstone, as much as they could give, and between that and the human government, the pride began to stabilize.

Then the first fertile had fallen ill.

Jensen didn't know all the details, could only go on what he'd heard growing up, all his reports second or third or fourth hand, but from the stories he knew, it had only taken one week of fever, one week of dementia and delirium for the fertile to pass, too fast for any of the pride or their human guardians could find what was wrong. Whatever had been in those bombs had been something worse than fire. Something far worse. The illness spread just like the fire had, only it couldn't be but out, no matter what they treated the ill with, and no matter how they separated those they thought weren't sick. They'd been exposed weeks ago, in the initial attack.

The fertiles who'd been infected died, one after the other. The dominants, though, were worse.

They weathered the disease, survived the contagion period, but when the fever left them, and the crippling pain faded, they were changed. Different. Jensen remembered his mother telling him stories of dominants and betas gone mad, eyes gone twisted and wrong, all intelligence fled, leaving only a monster of violent malevolence behind.

Stories of dominants that had killed the few fertiles who'd never caught the illness, ripping cubs to shreds in their madness.

In the end, the alphas of several prides, unable to take care of the problem themselves, for fear of catching the disease, gave the humans who guarded the park their permission. The last of the Yellowstone cats had been hunted down like wild animals, killed with rifles to keep them from spreading the terrible plague to other prides.

Jensen remembered reading one article that had been penned during a period of hope, when it was believed that they'd killed the dominants in time -- that there was some hidden enclave of uninfected Yellowstone cats. That the humans were searching the park and were sure to find survivors.

They never found one.

Jensen swallowed hard, throat and mouth feeling dry, the memories of Yellowstone a horror story and cautionary tale all in one, something out of a nightmare that some of his people didn't even want to believe. The worst of it, beyond the violence of the attack, was that everyone knew exactly why the Yellowstone Pride had been chosen as a target: if any cats were the leaders of their people, of the ailure, it had been the Yellowstone Pride.

In the legends, it was the Yellowstone Pride, the Dawnbringers, that carried the blood of Thaylil, the first ailure, the first cat with the gift of shifting. Amongst the ailure, the Yellowstone cats had been treated something between royalty and honored shamans, the descendants of an ancient line of kings, the carriers of an older, more gifted spirit. Jensen's mother used to tell him of Dawnbringers that could change into shapes besides that of a cat and a man. Ones that could see through thoughts like vapors. Ones that could call down the gods themselves and run through the sky while still living, both of the earth and of the heavens and bound by neither. Told him of the cats who prayed every morning for the sun to come back, and that the only reason it rose, that light came back to the Earth, were their divine pleas.

Of all the alphas of all the prides, the Yellowstone alpha was the only one who could make any claim to ruling over all the others.

They had been sacred. Holy. And they had been wiped out.

Jensen felt something cold run through him as he looked at Jared and knew exactly why this fertile bore such markings -- the mark of one who could trace his lineage back to the first cats.

"...you are the last of the Yellowstone cats," Jensen breathed finally, almost tempted to reach out and touch, to prove with his hands that this was real.

"I...guess. I mean, there's my brothers." Jared shrugged, as if this revelation meant nothing, as if he didn't carry the last of that holy blood, untainted by the human's disease.

"But...I don't understand. When were you born?"

"1991."

"The last living ailure at Yellowstone was seen almost thirty years before that. They were destroyed."

Jared shrugged again, still fiddling with his shirt.

"I guess not. I mean...that's what my dad thought too. He was a park ranger. He told me -- us -- that he was patrolling the park one winter and he found this huge dead cougar. He said it looked like she'd starved to death. There were no other cats around, not even footsteps in the snow. Just her and five kittens. Two were already... But me and my brothers were still alive. My dad had no idea we were werecats. Part of his job was taking in orphaned animals like that, helping them along. They could be used in education programs or fostered and returned to the wild..." Jared smiled a little, and Jensen could tell he was remembering things -- perhaps caring for small, orphaned animals in his own youth. "Anyways, he brought us home and he and mom looked after us. They said it wasn't the first time they'd looked after cougars."

"And they had no idea." It wasn't really a question.

"None." Jared looked over at him. "Not until months had passed and we hadn't grown. They had the large animal vet check us out, and he couldn't find anything wrong with us. Like you said, they hadn't had an ailure so much as sighted at Yellowstone in thirty years. It didn't even occur to them, at first. They just kept taking care of us, hoping that we'd eventually start growing. By the time they realized that we weren't cougars...They'd had us for almost a year and a half. They couldn't report it." Jared met Jensen's eyes, his gaze pleading, as if needing Jensen to understand him, believe him.

Jensen just tried to nod, to give him any encouragement.

"They couldn't tell anyone. If anyone found out they'd been keeping werecat cubs... They wouldn't have just gotten a fine or some jail time. They'd have been locked up for the rest of their lives. Them and the vets that looked at us, and the other park rangers who'd come to see us... They didn't have a choice. Besides, the park had gotten lots of threats from those psychos, back in the day -- the ones who staged the original attack. If they thought that any of the pride had survived, they'd target them. Us. And..." Jared softened a little. "...and my parents'd had us for a year and a half. Mom loved us, and there was no way in hell she was letting her kids go. So my dad... he asked everyone to keep it a secret. By the time we had our human forms, they just told everyone in town that they'd adopted some kids, told us we were theirs and we...grew up there. That was our home. Our family."

"Jared...I can't believe--"

"Please. Don't think badly of them. I know. It was a stupid decision. But you have to understand. They're my parents. They looked after us and gave us Christmases and fireworks and handmade Halloween costumes... They were the ones that read us bedtime stories and kissed our scraped knees and...cut the crusts off our sandwiches. And I know it wasn't the right decision. That they should have probably told someone, but they were good parents. They loved us."

Jensen's brow furrowed, and he couldn't deny that there was something heated in his chest at the idea of humans keeping ailure like pets... But from everything Jared was describing, it hadn't been like that. The humans hadn't made the best decisions, over all, but the ones they had made had been out of love. They'd raised three ailure as humans, but it was only because it was the only way they knew how to raise children. He couldn't blame them for that.

He nodded one, jerkily, trying to process everything that he was hearing. He swallowed, pressing his luck to ask one more question.

"How did they die?"

He didn't expect Jared's head to snap up, his eyes wide and confused.

"Die? My parents aren't dead."

"But... you were talking about them in the past tense. And you're all alone. Your parents and brothers...I had assumed..."

"No," Jared shook his head. "No, my family...they're fine. They're fine and living in Wyoming and...They're fine."

"So, why did you--"

"I think...that's enough for one day, right?" Jared asked, smile a little tremulous with hope. Jensen could tell that Jared wasn't strained, though, or hadn't been, up until this point. It wasn't that what Jared had talked about had taxed him. If anything, the story of his origin, how he'd come to live with humans, had affected Jensen more than Jared. To Jared it was just a story he'd heard about from his parents. To Jensen, it was the realization that the blood of their gods still walked amongst them, preserved in three tender lives.

No. It was whatever came next that affected Jared. Whatever had happened to tear his family apart.

Jensen pursed his lips and nodded. He needed time to deal with his current revelations.

"I had no idea you were..." He shook his head.

"Why would you?" Jared tossed it off, like it was nothing. Jensen was tempted to reply, to tell him just how much this meant, but something stopped him. He would gladly tell Jared just how important this was, how important he was, but Jared seemed to be working on just dealing with learning about his heritage as an ailure. It wouldn't do to throw this on his shoulders too.

When Jared wanted to talk about it... Well. Jensen was alpha. He would be there for any in his pride.

It surprised him only a little bit that he already thought of Jared as thus.

He reached out, putting his hand on the younger cat's shoulder.

"I'm glad that you told me, in any case."

Jared lifted his head, glancing at Jensen and offered a bare hint of a smile.

Jensen was glad that this cub had been raised with love and care, that there had been people that had shown him kindness and luxury, and that he'd been kept safe from those who would wish to harm him. He was grateful for all those things.

But here, now, with Jared's breathing flesh under his hand, and the knowledge of just how young and lost and sacred he was, Jensen felt the full swell of responsibility in him. This cat was in his pride now, and under his protection.

There was no way that Jared was ever escaping Jensen's notice again.

Chapter Text

Misha remembered clearly the winters of Maine.

He was used to snow so deep that the ailure would leap out of it like fish, hopping along to move from one end of a field to another, kicking up flurries with their paws. He remembered the frozen lake near pride ground, and how the younger members of the pride would go out there on sunny days and let themselves skid over the ice, claws scraping as they went too fast, screeching and yowling. He remembered climbing trees to knock down the icicles, laughing at the adults below. He remembered huddling for warmth through the worst months, the ones towards the end, when the eyes begged to see something green, something other than the eternal white, cold creeping in so deep that sometimes it felt like his bones were made from ice.

Late July hit the North Carolina mountains like thick wool blanket, bright and sunny and warm, too thick whenever Misha had to venture away from the river. It was natural to the ailure to love the heat and the sun, to bath in its light and soak it in, but even so, sometimes, on occasion, when the sweat was rolling down his neck and the air was so thick it felt like he was breathing through a damp rag, he did miss the winters.

Inside the main house, the air was stifling. The windows came from a time before people wanted to open them to the elements, and the doors had been closed and locked. It was a structure commonly used in the winter, but almost abandoned in the summer heat, too dark and oppressive with its thick, wood walls and lack of airflow.

It meant something then, that Jensen had called him here, locked the doors so that no one else would enter.

By the time the alpha was finished speaking, Misha understood perfectly why the need for privacy.

"By the dead eye, alpha..." Misha cursed softly, moving over to one of the windows, peering out onto pride ground through the warped glass. He could only distantly see Jared down in the shadow of the trees, cavorting with Misha's cubs and Tristan. He couldn't deny that Jared was a bit strange looking for a fertile, but he'd always just assumed he came from a foreign pride. Misha always liked a good conspiracy, and he'd cooked up plenty of ridiculous explanations for how Jared ended up on his own, but somehow the truth had managed to surpass them all. "Are you sure?"

"It's what he said."

"Maybe he's lying?" Misha suggested, too blown away by the possibility. When he was greeted with nothing but silence, he glanced over his shoulder at his friend.

Jensen just had one eyebrow raised, his face painted in skepticism.

"...yeah okay, you're right. He's not lying." The few attempts at lying that Misha had witnessed from Jared involved more than enough stumbling around and avoiding eye contact to clue in even the most oblivious soul. The idea of him cooking up something like this and then lying to get them to believe it was ridiculous, especially when considering how Jared came to be with them.

Somehow, defying all reason, the only explanation that made any sense at all was that Jared really was one of the last of the Skybreakers, a child of Thaylil and Yrsa. Inexplicably, an uninfected fertile of the Yellowstone line.

"What do we do?" Misha asked, finally.

"First of all, we tell no one," Jensen ordered, continuing before Misha could object. "News like this... We'd be fielding delegates from prides all over the nation, not to mention the human reaction. Something like this, I'm not sure even I could keep their reporters away. The last I heard, the Agnus Dei didn't exist anymore, but that doesn't mean there aren't others out there championing their cause."

"Yeah, but...Most of those groups are tiny. The most they do is hand out angry fliers to people who just throw them in the trash."

"Doesn't mean they won't get riled up again, if they hear of a living Dawnbringer. The attack at Yellowstone is a big victory for them. Hearing that they missed one might be enough to light the fuse to the powder keg again, and I won't risk that."

"What about Jared?"

"He knows his story. He just doesn't know how significant this is to us. It's not as if there's any details he's missing that I know of. The only thing that I know that he doesn't is that this is something important to the ailure, and I doubt he'd want to hear there right now."

As much as Misha championed communication in times like these, he found himself reluctantly agreeing.

"He can barely deal with being a fertile," the captain replied. "Our ways are too foreign to him. He needs...time. Time to settle in here. He still carries on as if he's leaving, as if he doesn't belong here."

Misha saw Jensen smirking a little to himself, and raised a curious eyebrow.

"What's that look for?"

"Nothing. Just glad you see things the same as I do."

"How do you mean?"

"That he is ours. Pride." Jensen's smirk slipped, drifting away as he leaned back in his chair, thinking. "He is ours to protect, Misha. I won't have him failed. Not after what he's done for us already, hurting himself to save a cub of ours. My cub." He looked over at his captain. "I have every intention of seeing him safe here."

Misha couldn't hold back his smile.

"It's good you think that -- I would have hated having to fight you on it."

Jared was a sweet kid. He'd grown close to Misha's cubs, and Misha and his mate as well. Sure, Jared was also weird and confusing and more human than they knew how to deal with, but he was kind, and most importantly, he seemed to be constantly trying. It was a trait that was far more valuable than even the finest hunting skills, and one more admirable than most. Unfortunately, Jared was also confused, hurting and trying to deal with a world far more complex than his nineteen years knew how to handle. Misha had been trying to help the fertile, as best he could, but it was gratifying to hear that the alpha was of the same mind.

The problem was, Jared's lineage just made the situation even more complex.

It wasn't that Jared deserved more protection than the other cats in the pride, as if any life was more valuable than another, but Jared would need more protection than the average ailure. Even if there were no violent repercussions to the news that a Skybreaker lived, there would still be plenty of attention, and most of it heaped on Jared's unsuspecting head. Misha had already witnessed how Jared dealt with just being a fertile -- it wasn't great. Having to deal with being a fertile and the last in a line of holy cats...

The captain paused.

"His siblings... They're dominants, aren't they?"

Jensen looked a little grim.

"Yes," the alpha replied

Misha rubbed the back of his head.

The last fertile Dawnbringer. Forty five years after the attack at Yellowstone, it was something that no ailure had ever expected to see. Misha would have fought to defend any such fertile, if he'd heard of Jared in some distant, other pride. But Jared wasn't distant or unknown, or some hollow symbol of a past that the ailure thought they'd lost.

Jared was a good kid with a kind heart, someone who'd taken in a cub, someone who'd fought to bring that cub home. Jared was someone's kid, left out in the wilds alone, adrift and unknowing of his own nature, his own heritage.

Misha had been devoted to the idea of protecting Jared long before Jensen found out where the fertile had come from. The only thing it changed was how difficult it was going to be.

"So, what happens now?" Misha asked after a moment, looking to his friend, his alpha, for direction.

Jensen just smiled.

"Glad you asked. Cause I had a thought."

-----

When it came to Jeffrey, Jared's feelings were sort of mixed. It wasn't like they weren't friends. They were.

It was just that Jeff was...odd.

He'd had always been nice enough, always been friendly and patient, but he was also kind of enigmatic. It was nearly impossible to tell what the dominant was thinking at any given time. It also didn't help that Jeff was the size of a monster truck(at least, to Jared's hyperbolic eye) and the scars made him look like he was from some kind of ailure biker gang.

Hell's Kitties, if you will.

Of course, Jared had never seen Jeff use his size and strength in a fight. If the beta could be stirred to move at all, it was usually just to change positions, or cuddle with one of the fertile. In fact, if anything, the dominant was kind of a laze, more likely to be found laying out, sunning himself. Which, coincidentally, was exactly how Jared found him.

He'd been asked by Misha to go and locate the black beta and ask him to return to pride ground. Jared had promptly responded with 'how the hell do I find him?' and was given directions to a bluff up the mountain, on the opposite side from the Cove. It faced out towards the river, with a rather impressive view. That, of course, meant that getting there involved risking your life -- a price Jared thought was a bit too steep for a little scenic vista -- and by the time he reached the top of the bluff, he was panting, displeased, and wondering why the hell he had been picked for this task.

'I'm supposed to fetch you,' Jared explained, panting as he approached the jut of rock where the large black dominant was lazing, his body stretching out in the waning light. The sun had already dipped down below the horizon, leaving the sky painted blue, orange and pink, the first stars showing their faces on the eastern edge of the world.

'Were you now...' Jeff grumbled, his voice as inscrutably neither here nor there as always. The beta was laying on his side, huge legs sprawled out across the rock, the barrel of his chest rising and falling steadily. A few seconds after Jared's interruption, apparently accepting the fact that he was to be disturbed, the dominant stretched his legs straight out, and Jared's eyes followed the long, deadly curve of pale claws that emerged from their sheaths.

He swallowed hard.

Jeff lifted his head, straightening himself out to sit with forelegs extended and head upright.

'What were you supposed to fetch me for then, little fertile?' Jeff peered down at him.

'Uh... I actually don't know. I didn't really ask.' Now Jared was kind of wishing he had. Scrambling up the mountain hadn't really been his idea of fun, and he could only imagine scrambling back down would be just as neck-snappingly entertaining. Not to mention, as patient as Jeff always seemed, Jared still always felt kind of intimidated by him.

Of course, now that he combined those two things, he realized he was at the top of a steep bluff with the Jolly Cat Giant who always made Jared think of the phrase 'it's always the quiet ones.' Fantastic.

Jeff cocked his head, his lazy vision focusing on Jared, and Jared wondered if this was how Jeff's prey felt when the dominant was sighting them from across a field -- trapped in some kind of crazy ailure crosshairs, the edges of his irises as sharp as blades.

'Are you scared of me, little one?' Jeff asked, sounding almost amused -- and a bit surprised, like he didn't expect it.

'Would it be rude if I said 'yes'?' Jared queried, his ears flicked back and ducked in submission, not even bothering to object to the nickname. He flinched a little when he heard Jeff chuckle, watching the massive warrior rise up off of his rock, jumping down with an effortless grace. His long frill hung down shaggy over his face as he approached Jared, and Jared did his best not to draw back a little.

Jeff butted their heads together hard enough that Jared thought he was going to tumble right off the mountainside. Jeff dragged him in with one massive paw and began to groom the top of Jared's head.

'...you're kind of a weirdo, you know that, right?' the younger cat asked, squinching one eye closed as Jeff's tongue left wet trails in his fur.

Jeff just chuckled in reply, apparently uninterested in explaining himself anymore.

Jared sighed and gave up, because there was no way he was getting away now. He just settled in and let Jeff groom him like he was a cub, his expression less than pleased, ears back. Jeff, unsurprisingly, took no note, one foreleg slung over Jared's back, and by the time he was done, Jared's fur was sticking up at odd angles, in unimpressively damp cowlicks.

Jared shook himself as Jeff stepped away.

'So, you're done now? We can go back to pride ground?'

'Yes,' Jeff answered simply, short of words as always, wearing that little smirk that he seemed to so favor. If Jared had had the physical ability to, he'd have stuck his tongue out.

'Wait.' He paused as he watched Jeff walk away, going the opposite direction from what Jared expected. 'Where are you going?'

'I'm going down the easy way,' Jeff drawled in response, looking back over his shoulder at Jared. 'I suppose you can go back down the way you came up, if you want, but the path here is much less hassle.'

Jared wanted to beat his head against the rock.

He ended up following behind Jeff as the older ailure guided him down the mountain, and, true to his word, the path here was much easier. It still was relatively narrow, but there was at least less jumping from rock to rock, risking life and limb in the process. Sometimes, as they passed, a few loose stones would tremble out of place and scatter down the mountain, playing their unsteady music the whole way down.

Halfway through the trek, Jared found his incessant need to talk overcoming him. They were nearing the stream that ran through the pass, in the crevice of the mountain. Instead of turning towards the forest path that lead to the Cove, they turned east, towards pride ground.

'So...' Jared started. Jeff didn't say anything, but Jared saw one of the older ailure's ears flick back, listening, even though their voices weren't something that could be heard aloud. 'I was wondering. How come you're not alpha?'

Jeff actually glanced back at that, muddy brown eyes blinking owlishly before turning himself back to watch where he was going, guiding them towards the treeline.

'Why do you ask?'

'Well, you're bigger than Jensen. Um. Hurao. You could win in a fight, right?'

'...Probably.' Jeff's answer was an affirmation, but it didn't sound particularly inspired.

'So... I repeat. Why aren't you alpha?'

'Being alpha is more than just winning a fight.'

'Yeah, but. I mean, Misha told me that that's how the alpha gets chosen. He wins all the fights?'

'More or less,' Jeff replied. He was quiet for a few seconds, and Jared thought he'd have to keep pushing, but it turned out Jeff was just mulling things over. 'That is how the alpha is chosen, it's true. But there are measures in place to keep those who would abuse the position out.'

Yeah, Jared remembered that one. Falling upon. He remembered Misha's drawn face and Julie trying to comfort him. In his eyes, the possibility of his best friend's blood.

'Being alpha is a job,' Jeff continued. 'And one that never ends. A beta goes home at night to mate and children, or their own solitude. They lay down their mantle, and for a few hours, they are just an ailure, nothing more. But an alpha... Even in sleep, an alpha is still alpha. At every moment the alpha is ultimately responsible, and only very few can handle that. Yes, there will always be those foolish enough to think they can take it on when they can't, but they rarely have the stamina to outlast those with vision. Those who're truly alpha.'

'And you?' Jared asked, as they slipped under the cover of the trees.

'I was never fit to be alpha. I don't like controlling others, and I've never been good at it besides. It's not in my nature to organize and champion, to lead. I much prefer the quiet peace of my Cove, and the peace of mind of watching over my fertiles. There are several in our pride who could be alpha -- who have the drive and the will, who are strong and good and determined to lead. But there aren't as many clamoring for my position. 'Alpha of the fertiles'...' Jeff huffed a laugh. 'They protected me when I was too small to protect myself. Now I am bigger, and stronger, but my strength belongs to them. Is owed them. I never fought in the trials because being alpha would take me away from them. There are very few people know their place in the world, but I do. I know exactly where it is.'

Jared listened, listened well, but he didn't know what to say to that.

Jared had never understood his place in the world, or even what that place was meant to be. He knew he was undeniably an ailure -- it was his DNA, his biology, his very species. So he couldn't explain why he always felt so unavoidably human, even when he was walking through a forest on four paws instead of two feet. He'd always felt like he was possessing someone, as if this body wasn't his. Like his mind had somehow been beamed in, and one day he'd be beamed out, leaving the poor bastard who actually owned the body to try and get on with his life.

That person would be a better ailure than Jared, Jared was sure. That person wouldn't be afraid of his heats, or complain at a kitten while it nursed. That person would be brave in all the places that Jared was scared, confident in all the places where Jared worried. That person would be able to hunt well enough to support himself, and wouldn't feel lonely after two years of solitude. That person would love two years of solitude. He would be glad to be away from people. Enjoying it, even.

That other person, the ailure that Jared should have been, wouldn't dream about that space inside of him, worry about it anxiously, wondering, waiting.

The other ailure would be more like Jensen, someone Jensen would admire. Someone who wasn't turned around in the woods like an idiot cub.

Someone who knew what his place in the world was.

'You're good with him, by the by.' Jeff's voice, sudden in the stillness of the forest, shook Jared out of his thoughts, and he raised his head, glancing over at the other ailure. With the sky darkening to night and the cover provided by the full foliage of the trees, night was settling into the forest, and Jared was thankful for their more sensitive vision, able to see where to step in the darkness as he followed the other cat.

'Who? What?' he asked, aware that he sounded a little bit like an idiot.

'The alpha. He needs someone like you.'

'Needs someone like me for what?' Jared could just imagine himself as a beta -- getting lost, questioning orders. Occasionally punching the alpha in the face.

'You don't let him wallow. You aren't afraid of him. He needs someone to keep him from getting back to the place he was in, a month ago.'

'Someone to keep him from going power mad?' Jared snorted.

'No,' Jeff shook his head. 'He isn't like that. What you saw...was not our alpha. The alpha's problem isn't that he's too controlling, or that he becomes consumed by his own authority. What happened to him recently... It wasn't about his cubs.'

Jared's ears flicked up at that, curious and also kind of baffled. How could it not be about the cubs?

'It was about him being unable to break. Unable to believe that he could depend on someone else, even for a moment. What he went through...was pain, and grief, and everything a parent would feel upon losing a child. But it wasn't the pain and grief that led him to the darkened place he was in, a month ago. It was that he didn't let any of it out. None of us could help him, because to us, he is our leader, our father, our guardian. And we will always be the ones he protects. So long as that's the case, he can't come to us for support, can't expose that weakness.'

'That's stupid,' Jared said quickly, before realizing he was insulting their culture, their ways. Jeff just chuckled.

'And that's why you're good for him. You don't see him as alpha. You don't even know how. You yelled at him, that day, shook him hard enough that a piece of that armor fell away. Enough for the wound to begin to drain.'

'I think it was more the punching my face thing that shook him up,' Jared reminded.

'True... But you still managed to get him to do that.' The beta bared his huge teeth in what Jared thought Jeff intended as a grin. It looked downright terrifying.

Jared laughed a little, shaking his head.

'Whatever you say, buddy...' Jared had been about to continue, to comment on Jeff's rather dodgy observations when he heard the muffled sound of many voices, and his ears swiveled quickly forward. As they drew closer to pride ground, Jared could hear more clearly what sounded like some kind of party, the shuffling of feet, voices blending into each other, and beyond the tree trunks, he could see the lights of the main house turned on, glowing out into the night.

'What the...?' Jared murmured, quickening his pace as they emerged from the forest. 'What's this?'

'This is what we always do, when there are new members of the pride,' Jeff replied.

'New members?'

'Usually there are more. Ten or so. But it's a chance for the pride to get to know one another.'

'When did new members get here?'

'About a month ago, I'd estimate.'

Jared paused, considering that. Somewhere in the back of his head there was a progress bar, gronking away over the last 10% of that conclusion, and when he hit it, his eyes widened, jerking his head straight up.

'Me?'

'I would assume.'

'So... You were just to distract me?'

'I don't know. No one informed me. But I would assume so.'

Jared groaned. He'd just gotten himself surprise partied.

-----

Two hours later, after having come in to find Misha with some clothes for him to shift and put on, Jared excused himself to go sit on the bench just outside the main house, taking a break from all the people and the talking. The gathering wasn't like a human party -- no roaring music or drunk idiots, no awkward speeches or anything like that. Mostly it was just the pride all gathered around, talking amongst each other, and Jared was just grateful that at no point had he been formally introduced to them as a group. That would have been...uncomfortable.

He'd considered begging off, or telling Misha and Jensen that he didn't want this. That the option to leave was still hovering in the back of his head, but he kind of realized how rude that would be, and despite the fact that the whole shindig was supposed to welcome him to the pride, it hadn't been too focused around him. It was mostly just a gathering of the pride, an opportunity for everyone to get together and talk and enjoy the evening, taking their minds off the heat with stories and company.

Jared didn't want to break that up.

So he'd gone with it, introduced himself to some people he didn't know, talked with some he did. Everyone was in their human forms, and it was a little surreal to 're'-meet people he already knew in their cat form. Adrianne had taken him by surprise with a big hug, which to Jared, was just some random gorgeous blonde crushing him to her chest. He wasn't going to complain.

After talking to him for five minutes, she was kind enough to clue him in.

Outside, the night had settled over the landscape, and the light coming out from the windows of the main house made the stars dim and hard to see, and pride ground only extended as far as the light would reach, everything else a murky black beyond. Down the hill, Jared could see a few thin lines where light spilled out under the doors of the cabins. The youngest of the pride, the cubs, were being watched after by a couple of the betas, he'd been informed, when he'd asked Julie and Misha where Tristan was.

Something winked in the sky, and Jared turned his head up, trying to find it in the darkness, until it winked again, somewhere to his right. When it came a third time, there was another light with it, faintly green and glowing. Lightning bugs in the hot southern night air.

Jared smiled a little to himself.

"Hey."

Jared couldn't help but jump, looking over to his right where Jensen stood, leaning against the doorway into the house. He had two mason jars of clear liquid in his hands.

"Oh, hey," Jared replied, trying to sound casual after twitching like a freak.

"Needed a little air?"

"Yeah, I mean, no. It was--I was fine." Jared made a frustrated sound as his own blathering. Jensen just chuckled, moving to sit next to him on the bench, leaning back and tossing one leg over the other.

"...you guys didn't need to do this for me, you know," Jared said finally, after he'd let a minute or so pass to clear his head.

"It was more for them. It's good for the pride to get to know each other."

"I haven't even decided if I'm staying, man." Out of the corner of his eye, Jared could see Jensen frown, but whatever the alpha was thinking, he didn't share it. Instead, he turned, offering one of the mason jars.

"Here."

"What is it?" Jared asked, even as he opened his mouth to tip some of the liquid back, which, he realized pretty quick, was a stupid time to ask that question. A second later he was coughing and gagging, leaning forward over his knees as he lifted his free hand to wipe at his mouth. "Ugh, oh god, what was that? It tastes like turpentine."

"White Lightning," Jensen replied casually, and Jared could see the bastard smirking, even as the alpha patted Jared's back.

"Moonshine? You gave me moonshine?"

"It's good!" Jensen defended with a smile, knocking some back himself, as if he hadn't just handed booze to a minor.

Jared was still coughing some, trying to clear the burn from his lungs, but he considered the mason jar in his hand curiously. Admittedly, they were way out in the middle of nowhere. And who knew if ailure were accountable to human law? Maybe Jared could drink booze...not like he'd ever let the fact that it was illegal stop him. He was a red blooded American teen, after all.

He'd just never been handed alcohol by an adult. Usually it was something snuck into teen's houses for a party while their parents were out of town.

He rolled his tongue in his mouth, bracing himself as he stared down the mason jar.

When in Rome...

He shut his eyes tightly, tipping his head back as he took a healthy swig of the moonshine, feeling it move like vinegar fire down through the center of him, straight to his stomach. He swung his head back down after the gulp, bracing himself for impact as he felt the burn lengthen and spread, giving a little shudder as the potent stuff went to work in his belly.

"Christ, that stuff is strong."

Jensen chuckled and took a swig of his own jar, patting Jared on the back again, this time companionably, instead of to try and get him breathing.

"You get used to it," the alpha said, leaning back.

The silence settled over them as Jared got himself under control. Jensen continued to sip from his jar, the two of them looking down the slope of pride ground. Jared couldn't hear the river from here, the noise of the house shadowing its usually ever present rush and babble, and even the constant groan and creak of the cicadas was muffled. It was still oppressively hot, even though the sun had gone down, heat leeching up out of the ground, and it wouldn't be until just before dawn that the temperature dropped enough to be pleasant.

Jared remembered how it had felt at the same time last year, trying to sleep in the stuffy air of his tent, tossing and turning just to get an idea of a breeze, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, pajama pants equally clingy, every cell in his body feeling still and drifting, trying to produce as little heat as possible. Trying to stay absolutely motionless, to the point where there was nothing to do, and the only thing left to do was think -- which was the one thing he'd tried to avoid.

"Is it us?" Jensen asked, out of nowhere. Jared glanced at him, curious, and Jensen continued. "Is the problem something to do with us? If so, you only need to tell me."

The alpha didn't look hurt or saddened -- only inquiring, like he could poke the answers out of Jared.

Jared smiled a little.

"Nah, you guys are great. It's just... I dunno. I have reasons. Personal reasons. They're not good reasons, but...they're mine." He looked down at the old mason jar, still mostly full. Jared dragged his thumb over the glass, the booze not cooled, but still cooler than the air outside, leaving just a little bit of condensation against the jar. "It's...a big commitment, being here. Living by myself...It wasn't great. But it was easy."

"...I can understand that," Jensen replied, something strangely contemplative in his eyes when Jared dared to glance. He licked his lips.

"It's also... I mean, everyone here has been wonderful. And welcoming. So it's not that. It's just...This is still strange to me. There's all this stuff I don't know, and half of me wants to know about it, but the other half..."

"The other half?"

"The other half just wants to go back to when it was easy."

"Jared..."

Jared blinked, unaccustomed to hearing the alpha use his name, and not in that tone of voice(sort of tender and far away)and he raised his head, looking at the other ailure. Jensen was watching him, his expression caught somewhere between soft and rigid, his brow furrowed, pinched together, but his eyes endlessly sympathetic, lips pressed tight together.

"You are..." Jensen started, after a moment. "You shouldn't have to be alone. Whatever it is you're punishing yourself for, you don't have to."

Jared barked a laugh, and he was aware that it was cruel.

"You're one to talk." He saw the alpha wince, out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to feel bad about it. Not when Jensen was pushing him to talk like this.

"I am one to talk," Jensen replied quickly, a bit heatedly. He took a breath, seemed to calm himself, and then continued. "Because I know. I know very well what that feels like. And I can't even say that I'm not there anymore. My time with you and Tristan... I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed it. How much I appreciate it. It hasn't mended everything -- can't -- but today is so much better than yesterday, and yesterday so much better than the day before that. And tomorrow...might not be a good day. I can't believe that any day will be. But even the worst of what I feel now is nothing compared to how I felt before you arrived. Jared, I think, of anyone here, I'm the best person to talk to."

Jared sighed, leaning back against the bench heavily. He wanted to give Jensen the right answer. He wanted to say the thing that would make all the problems go away, but it wasn't that simple -- he didn't even know what thing would make all the problems go away.

What he had with Jensen and Tristan was so dangerously close to family, and the way he wanted that scared him, because he'd had a family once, and he'd fucked it up.

There was some peace to be found here, peace in the acceptance the ailure had for him, but there was also the fact that they asked acceptance from him. Even Misha and Adrianne were getting tired of him objecting to their belief that there was nothing wrong with all the strange and unacceptable things his body could do, because to them he was yelling at the wind to stop it blowing. It was a worthless exercise, and more than that, a waste of time that only served to lessen him.

And they weren't wrong.

It was just that Jared needed to be able to let it out. Controlled bursts to keep the pressure down.

And so long as he was here, they wouldn't understand what was wrong with him. Or why there was anything wrong with him to begin with.

"I just... I don't think I'm ready to be that, yet. To be...worshipped," Jared admitted, finally, remembering Misha's words for him, for his kind. The fertile.

Jensen watched him, inscrutable, and Jared wished he knew what was on the other werecat's mind.

A second later, Jared jumped as a broad hand slipped over his knee, squeezing lightly.

"I can understand that," Jensen repeated, his voice was low, something soothing, and Jared stared at him for a moment, before looking back down at the hand that had so casual come to rest on his knee. Jared didn't shake it off, or push Jensen away. Somehow, he found, he didn't even want to.

Instead, he just leaned back, looking out at the fireflies swooping lazy in the North Carolina night, and enjoyed the simplicity of that touch.

Chapter Text

Jared didn't know he was doing it, at first.

It wasn't like it was a conscious kind of thing, or something he'd thought on and decided. It wasn't something that he'd wanted and sought out.

It just happened, and Jared didn't even realize it until Adrianne pointed it out to him.

"You two are spending a lot of time together," she remarked with a strange curl to her voice, a 'I know something' tone that made Jared quirk his head curiously.

"Huh?" he asked, articulate as always.

"You and the alpha." The same sound that had curled in her voice curled on her lips into an irritatingly knowing smile. "Well...more you specifically."

"What about me specifically?"

"You've been seeking him out a lot, recently. You know. Going up to sun with him? Sitting with him at meal time?" She paused, searching his face for a flicker of understanding. When Jared just stared at her, her eyes widened a little. "You didn't know you were doing it?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Jared grumbled, looking away from the other fertile.

"Fine," she responded breezily, in that way that suggested that she didn't think it was so easily dismissed. "You weren't doing anything."

After that, Jared couldn't help noticing.

There were, of course, their daily meetings. Jared and Jensen talking while Tristan played, or Jared listening to Jensen tell Tristan stories that Tristan had no way of understanding yet. But those meetings were normal and planned, a part of how things had been for the last month and a half. And besides, they were visits for Tristan's benefit.

It was all the things outside of those meetings.

Adrianne hadn't been wrong. Jared just hadn't noticed that when he was bored, and the sun was high, Tristan taking a nap with Julie's litter, Jared would head up to the main house, usually finding Jensen laid out on the rock that overlooked pride ground. The ailure here prized the activity they called 'sunning', which Jared really just thought of as 'napping', and it wasn't uncommon for the cats to lay out together when the sun was at its zenith, eyes closed and paws and arms laying over one another in a tangle.

So Jared would just settle down next to Jensen, and the alpha would shift to make room, and Jared would drift off. It hadn't seemed unusual, until Adrianne pointed it out.

And then there were the times that Jensen was on patrol, wandering out to join his betas or inspect some area of land. If Tristan was busy, Jared would go alone, and if not, the cub would tag along, the two of them pacing along behind Jensen as he sauntered through the hunting grounds. Jared had just thought it was a good opportunity for him to see the land that the pride lived off of -- it wasn't like he'd seen a lot beyond pride ground and the Cove. He'd heard the other ailure talking about the hunting grounds, which apparently extended for acres deep into the Appalachian Valley, stretching through miles of woods and meadows, the rolling hills at the base of the mountains. It only seemed natural to want to get a look at it, see where the pride lived besides their homes.

Jared just hadn't realized he was doing it with pretty much only one guide.

But even that had made sense. After all, Jensen was Tristan's father. It was good for the cub to spend more time with him, to be introduced to his ancestral home by family.

And sure, Jensen had been an assface at first, but Jared was enjoying the chance to actually get to know the alpha that everyone had spoken of before -- the guy who cared for his pride, who was kind and patient. And they weren't wrong. The more Jared got to know him, spend time in his quiet presence, he couldn't deny that Jensen seemed to give off an aura of peace, as if so long as Jared was near him, nothing bad would happen. As if he were safe.

It was ridiculous, because people didn't give off auras and just because Jensen was around didn't mean that Jared was guaranteed safety. It just...felt like that.

It was ridiculous, and Adrianne was way off the mark, but she'd alerted Jared to how it looked, him following Jensen around like a lost puppy, and once he became aware of it, he tried to cut back. He tried to spend more of his midday naps at the Cove, dozing while Tristan chased the light reflecting off of the water, and tried to spend more of his evenings with Misha or Jeff.

It hadn't been something sudden, like one day he'd just decided to spend all his time with Jensen. It had crept up on him, slow and steady like a hunter in the grass, one day at a time, until he realized that he really had been kind of stalking the guy. He was pretty sure that no one appreciated stalkers.

And okay, Jared was less of a stalker and more of a social limpet, but that wasn't that much better.

He wasn't sure if it had started before the little welcome party, before the moonshine and just sitting together watching the fireflies dance, or if it had started just after. All he knew was that everyone just treated him like he was supposed to be here. The feeling was seductive. And dangerous.

And once he was aware of it, he couldn't become unaware of it, like an optical illusion that once you saw it, you couldn't unsee.

The thought came to him one evening at the Cove, laying out by a section of ivy, feeling it tickle his back as Tristen chased another, smaller cub through the stream, the smaller cub clearly running for his life while Tristan just thought they were playing. One of the other fertiles, probably the other cub's mother, gave Jared a dirty look -- that 'Your kid is being a menace' look that Jared had started to recognize. He winced a little, wishing, not for the first time, that Tristan had been born calmer.

Or less stupidly destructive.

'Tristan!' he yelled, and the cub came to a skidding stop. Tristan didn't understand words yet, but he'd at least learned tones, and he knew his name, and he knew exactly what it meant when Jared said his name like that. His ears went immediately down, drooping pathetically.

Jared wasn't fooled.

'You're a cat. You can't pull off puppy eyes,' he said.

Tristan didn't let that stop him.

'Come here,' Jared demanded, and he jerked his head to show Tristan what he wanted. The cub plodded over, practically dragging his paws. Jared seized his ruff the minute the cub was in range and hauled him in, grooming Tristan's drenched coat as punishment. Tristan tried to wriggle away, but one big paw on the kitten's belly was enough to hold him down, Jared ignoring Tristan's anguished yowls as he was cleaned.

As he sat there, bathing his objecting child, Jared couldn't keep pretending that people were seeing things.

Jared could live in denial only so long, and this wasn't great for either of them. Jared was acting like Tristan's mom, and in the meantime he was getting comfortable, getting cozy with the rest of the pride, and, apparently, not so subtly insinuating himself in Jensen's family, like he had a right to a place there.

He hadn't come here to claim anything like that.

Hell, when he'd come here, he'd half expected to have the pride tear him apart. They'd been nothing like he expected. Not at all the wild animals he'd always imagined, violent and wary of humans -- which Jared still inevitably counted himself as. Instead the pride had been warm and kind, far too welcoming and easy to fall into.

And the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to crawl back out.

And worse, the longer he stayed, the more it would hurt Tristan.

Jared could only live in denial so long, and at this point his denial was reckless -- was enough to hurt a child that Jared wasn't ashamed to admit he loved. It wasn't as if Jared had been lying to Jensen: he really hadn't decided if he was staying or not. The possibility of it was a recent enough thing that Jared had only begun to consider it.

But it wasn't fair to Tristan for Jared to remain so closely in his life when Jared's mind wasn't made up. He was playing the game half and half, trying to have his cake and have an escape route too, and that wasn't good. It wasn't right.

So long as leaving was still on the table, he couldn't play around like he was staying.

-----

Jensen had noticed how much time Jared had been spending with him, but that really wasn't what surprised him.

What surprised him was how easy it was not to take note, how simply Jared could fold himself in Jensen's life, accompany him like a shadow, and it wasn't a distraction or an irritation, or even something really worthy of being noted. It just was.

And that made it unexpectedly easy.

Jensen was used to being responsible for others, used to moving through pride ground or the hunting grounds with fellow hunters or fertiles such as Alona looking for his attention. He was used to it and enjoyed it, even, but it was never something that faded away to the back of his mind like Jared did -- as if Jared being there was so normal that his brain accepted it, like leaves in the fall, or snow in the winter.

In fact, it was much more noticeable when Jared was suddenly not there, an unnaturalness that stood out more in absence than in presence, and as the days passed, it worried away at him.

That worry intensified when Jared started begging out of their afternoon's with Tristan, leaving the cub to Jensen's care.

'I want him to get used to you as parent,' Jared had said. 'And not just another adult in the pride.'

Jensen had just accepted it at the time -- after all, it made sense. Tristan saw Julie and Misha every day, as well as several other members of the pride, and spent time with Cosette as well. It was easy to think that Tristan just saw Jensen as friend, or pridemate, and not necessarily as father. And it wasn't as if Jensen didn't enjoy spending time with his son, playing with him or taking him down to the river, guiding him out to the hunting grounds or carrying him up the long length of a tree to look out over their land. It was enjoyable enough that, at first, Jensen didn't think to object.

But he couldn't help but notice Jared's absence, like a tooth that used to be there and was now gone -- an empty space that was supposed to be filled. Tristan was accustomed to spending time without Jared around, be it with Cosette, or being babysat by Julie, so he never objected to leaving the fertile.

Even so, Jensen worried.

In the beginning of August, Jared suggested that Jensen take Tristan with him for the night. Thus far, Tristan had been staying with Jared in Julie and Misha's cabin, and Jensen found himself honestly a little surprised. But Jared used the same excuse as before: Tristan needed to get used to Jensen as a father, and it was normal for a cub to sleep in their family's den.

Jensen was surprised, sure, but it seemed like a nice idea.

And it seemed like a nice idea until two in the morning, when Tristan was still standing at the closed latch that lead to the ladder, calling out over and over again.

"Tristan..." Jensen whined, having tried everything he could think of to settle the cub, from singing to holding him to just letting him cry himself to sleep, but the cub was determined. Jensen felt exhausted, but he got up, went over to pick up his son, holding his furry body to his chest, rubbing Tristan's scruff.

They managed to get through the night in one piece, even if both of them were haggard in the morning, and Tristan ran out of the door like a shot, straight back to Misha's cabin. Jared was insistent though, and Jensen endured three more sleepless nights before he snapped.

"This isn't working," he announced one evening, bags under his eyes. Jared was sitting on a rock just outside the shade of the trees, in viewing distance from Misha and Julie's cabin. It was late evening, and Jensen was holding Tristan in his hands, having been handed the cub to take back with him to the main house. Tristan was purring softly and unaware of any kind of serious conversation

"Mm?" Jared looked up, turning his head to look over his shoulder as Jensen approached.

"Whatever it is, this plan of yours. It isn't working. It's just upsetting Tristan and keeping me from getting any rest."

"Welcome to being a parent," Jared remarked dryly and Jensen frowned.

"I'm perfectly happy to stay up all night with him, if he needs it. But it isn't me he's looking for, and it isn't me he needs. He's looking for you." If his son needed him, Jensen intended to be there. He'd missed the first two months of Tristan's life, missed being apart of that life, and he didn't intend to repeat that mistake. He'd be happy to take some restless nights if that's what was called for, but it wasn't Jensen that Tristan needed at the moment.

Jensen was at least relieved to see Jared look contrite, glancing at the kitten guiltily. It at least appeared like Jared wasn't just trying to shirk Tristan off.

"He needs to get used to spending time with you," Jared defended.

"He is used to it, and we enjoy our time together, but Jared, he's used to curling up with you at night. He'll sleep better with you. I don't mind that. If you think I intend to take away your rights as mother--"

"Stop. Yeah, I'm--... I'm like his mom, but I don't know how long I'm going to be around. It'd be cruel of me to keep pretending if I'm going to end up leaving--"

Jensen put up a hand to halt Jared's speech. The younger ailure petered off and Jensen turned around, putting Tristan on the ground.

"Go on now," he urged, giving the kitten a little pat on the flank. "Go over to the others."

Tristan looked up at him with unknowing teal eyes, but unless he was passed out, the cub was always looking for something to get into, so it didn't take him more than a minute to hear the sounds of Julie's cubs at play, and he bounded off through the leaves to meet with them. Jensen turned back to Jared.

"This bullshit needs to stop."

Jared's eyes went round, obviously not expecting that. Jensen's tone was firm but not mad. It was a subject they'd danced around for weeks, and Jensen had tried everything he could without being pushy or direct, but it seemed like that was all that was left for him to try.

"If you truly want to leave, no one will stop you. But if that's what you want, you need to do it now. Today. Withdrawing slowly from Tristan's life isn't helping him; it's hurting him. Yes, if you vanish suddenly, he'll be upset, but he'll be able to move on and get over it. But as it is now, he just thinks you're rejecting him over and over again."

Jared looked contrite, pain flaring up in his eyes at Jensen's words and he looked away. Jensen continued.

"I don't want you to leave. No one wants you to leave. But it's your life, and your decision. All I'm asking is that you either do it or don't. If I must listen to my son cry himself to sleep again, I want to at least know that it's for a good reason -- that you're gone. Not that you're two hundred yards away in another den."

Jared licked his lips slowly, pulling the lower one into his mouth. He paused.

"...he cries for me?"

"Of course he does. He's missing his mother." He saw Jared wince. "I'm not trying to talk you into staying. Tristan isn't even six months old. If you leave tomorrow, he'll be upset for awhile, but then he'll get used to a new routine, and he'll recover. He won't remember this, when he's older, and he'll be fine. So if you need to leave... it's alright. But don't draw it out like this. You're hurting him, and you're hurting me. We would love for you to stay, but if you can't, then please. Just go."

Jensen finished his speech, and he didn't have anything else to say. He didn't want Jared to go, that much was true. He'd miss the fertile, and even besides his own attachments, he felt a deep reservation about letting the last fertile Dawnbringer go off to live alone in a tent. But just because Jared was who he was didn't mean that Jared didn't get to make decisions about his own life. Being alpha didn't give Jensen the authority to control that, and he wouldn't want to.

Jared was silent, his lips firm and pursed, and for a moment, Jensen thought he'd angered the other ailure. He waited, but whatever angry tirade he was expecting didn't come. Instead Jared let out a stiff breath, as if he'd been holding it.

"...But I don't know what to do."

Jensen softened.

"You're young. Something like this can't be easy," the alpha assured, knowing he needed to be firm, but that didn't require him to be mean or cruel. Jared needed things just as surely as Tristan did, and just because Jensen loved his son didn't mean he'd treat another ailure as less just for Tristan's benefit. It felt a little bit like he was trying to serve two masters, but he could handle it. He was alpha.

"It's just... I don't want to leave Tristan, but I'm...I'm really not sure about staying here."

"Why?"

"I don't know why."

"Don't know, or don't want to say?"

"I don't--" Jared winced and shook his head. "Yes, there are things that I don't want to talk about, but there's also-- I genuinely don't know, Jensen. I'm scared of staying here. And I'm scared of leaving. I just...I don't know what I want."

"Can't we help you?" Jensen already knew the answer, but he wanted to offer anyways.

"No," Jared shook his head again. "I wish you could. I wish I could just make someone else decide for me, but...that's not fair. It's just...if I stay, that's final. And if I leave, that's final. And...I don't know which way to go."

"It's not, you know. Final. If you leave, you can always come back." Staying was...harder. If Jared chose to stay, he would have parental responsibility to Tristan, and while Jared acted undeniably like a parent to Tristan and cared for him, he hadn't yet accepted that total responsibility. He wouldn't be leaving, if he had.

"I guess..." Jared shrugged a little.

Jensen watched him, watched how Jared didn't look at him, how the boy tried to remain detached from their conversation, as if it didn't matter to him. Jared wasn't a cold person -- anything but. He wasn't remaining detached because he didn't care or because it didn't matter to him. Jared had spoken of a good human life with his human family, and Jensen had no doubt that it was the truth, but good or not, no human would know how to care for a fertile, would know just how easily they could be hurt. Humans weren't evil or malevolent by nature, but they were like dominants if no one had told the dominants to watch after the fertile. Playful and fast, smart and kind, strong and noble -- all good things. But they were also uncareful, because they were all born the same, with the same shields and defenses. They wouldn't know that Jared lived his life without any such shield, naked and raw, exposed to everything and feeling it at an intensity that the humans wouldn't understand.

So Jared had built a shield for himself, out of sticks and refuse, whatever he could find, to protect himself from a world that seemed harder than it was, with no pride to shelter him and keep him safe. His pride should have been that shield, but it was long dead.

Jensen could easily see how detachment worked for Jared, in moments like this. To act like he didn't care as deeply as he did. It was a way to survive that the boy had long since learned to use, until he didn't know he was doing it any more.

"You are...tender," Jensen remarked, automatically reaching out, his hand tracing the line of Jared's jaw. Jared jerked his head away.

"Stop that. You all keep...saying that. I'm this tender little wilting flower fertile, but I'm not. I'm...me."

"Jared." Jensen's brow furrowed, and he lowered himself to crouch in front of the other ailure. "I'm not saying you're not you. I don't think of you as just a fertile. I'd like to think that I don't think of anyone that way. But you... What I meant was, you're hurting. Yes, I think the fact that you're a fertile makes it worse." He saw Jared grimace. "It is your nature. You can change it, if you really desire to, but not if you continue to deny it. The fertile are sensitive, and given easily to love and affection. It's why we're so protective of you... The fertile give their love so freely, so beautifully. It hurts us to see one in pain, like you. To see a fertile who's had that love rejected, or broken. You were hurt, and you didn't have a pride there to catch you. Whatever it was, whatever happened...It makes my chest ache to see you guarded like this."

Jared's throat worked, swallowing awkwardly. He looked down, eyes shadowed. Hooded.

"...I didn't think of myself like that before. I mean...before everything. Before I ran away. That I was this...whatever it is you have in your head." He made a sound of frustration, shaking his head. "I don't even know how to say it."

Jensen reached out, putting his hand on Jared's knee, a dominant's need to comfort well and alive in him -- and Jensen had to admit, that flame had been stoked back to life by Jared. He owed this fertile more than anything. And that wasn't even the reason that he was here.

"I just thought I was a normal kid, you know?" Jared asked finally, holding back enough that he wasn't crying, but his eyes had turned reddish, and he lifted a hand to run under his nose, sniffing in. "I didn't think I was anything special. But...I know I'm different now. Was I... Do you think I was like them, before? That I was..."

"That you were like the other fertile?" Jensen finished for him, realizing now, what Jared was looking for. A connection. Some sense that he'd been an ailure the whole time, that he'd always been the fertile that Jensen saw in him. That there had been a reason for the way he'd always felt. "I don't know... I didn't know you then. But what I see, what I can't help but see, is someone who is hurting. But worse, because of what you are. I don't know who you were before you came here, but when I look at you, I see a fertile that someone damaged. That someone carelessly harmed, and that wound in you is worse than it would be for me, or another dominant."

"No..." Jared sniffed again and shook his head, looking at Jensen fully. "No. No one hurt me. It was me. I was the one--..." He hung his head, lifting his hands to press his fingers into his hair. "Is that why I feel like this? That I just can't...get over things? That I'm always...It always..."

"You always hurt more than those around you," Jensen supplied, still guessing, only guessing, but doing his best. Jared had grown up human, believed himself to be human, and even finding out he was an ailure hadn't revealed much -- after all, his brothers were ailure too. Except they would be able to pass as human, if they desired. If they wanted, they could stay in their human form all their lives, live a human life, get a human job, take a human mate, even if they couldn't make children. But Jared couldn't do that.

Jared would be incapable of such a thing, and that overprotective instinct in Jensen spiked, thinking of a fertile pressuring himself, trying to harden himself to live without knowing who he was. To live in the company of well meaning humans who were incapable of seeing how easily he loved, how quickly and how sweetly, and how swiftly that love could turn to pain.

Jensen remembered his father telling him, when he was teenager: We were placed here to watch over them. Not to control, or to command. Not to abuse or claim. We are their servants, not the other way around. If they send you away, you must go. If they call for you, you must come. If someone seeks to harm them, you must defend them. And if they ask you not to defend them...you must stand down. It was Saul'hrao's first command to our people, when we came into being, when he gave us our gift. That to live as a dominant, to be able to lift your head high, to have your strength and your claws and your fearlessness... You must give it all to them. They are the center of us. The day that we fail them, the day we abandon them, is the day that Saul'hrao will take it all back, because we will no longer be ailure.

It was something Jensen had always taken to heart. It was something that any dominant, if asked, would swear to. Without the fertile they were lost, incapable of making young, incapable of living more than one generation. Without them, the dominants wouldn't know tenderness, or family. To live without the fertile was like trying to live without a heart. Impossible, and aching with sorrow.

And here was a fertile before him, as kind and gentle as any Jensen had ever met, who'd been raised by people who loved him. But people who didn't know just how easily he could be hurt. People who didn't know to explain to him why that was. People who didn't know to protect him, not just from the bumps and bruises of youth, but from all the slights and pains. People who didn't know to seclude him, when he went into heat, and people who didn't know to teach him what he was, and the gift he carried.

Jensen couldn't blame those people, because they'd been doing the best they could the only way they knew how. It had been an error of ignorance, not malice. All the same, the ache in his chest at the sight of Jared curled over, trying desperately to understand what was wrong with him when the very things he thought were wrong were just what was natural to him.

"Jared," he said softly, softly as he could manage with that overprotective anger and sadness burning in his throat, leaning closer. "Jared, nothing's wrong with you."

"My brothers were always so confident and--" Jared shook his head, still not looking up, still covering his eyes. "They were never afraid of anything, and I always wondered why I was so different. When kids got into fights at school I just...It's not just that I lost. All it took was one stupid hit to bring me down, to make me tear up like a little girl. Brandon was always so strong, and he looked out for me, but, he shouldn't have had to! I'm the same as them! I was the same! We're brothers, all boys, all ailure, I just don't get why I wasn't the same."

"Because you're not." Jensen reached up, feeling a little desperate, feeling his hands come to Jared's cheeks, fingertips on the edge of his jaw. He couldn't get the fertile to look at him, even as Jared dropped his own hands and sniffed, lifting his head and looking away, cheeks unblemished by tears. Jensen swallowed. He'd never seen a more regal fertile, bearing up under such pressure, fighting his emotions with the fury of a contender at the trial, fighting challenger after challenger and just asking for more.

Jared saw weakness. Jensen saw someone who'd survived.

"You were never the same as them, and no one should have asked you to be," the alpha put forward assertively, needing Jared to know. He was afraid that the younger ailure would interrupt him, but Jared seemed intent on ignoring Jensen, using his focus to hold back everything else. "And you'll never be the same as them. Nor should you be. There is nothing wrong with you save that you were asked to become something you're not."

"Right. Because I'm a fertile," Jared spit out, angry. "We're all delicate little flowers."

"No. Because you are you," Jensen replied insistently. "I would not be saying this to Cosette, or to any fertile who chose to forsake. I would not even say this to Alona, a fertile I have known all her life. Just because you have that in common does not make you the same people. Misha and I couldn't be more different in some ways, yet we are both dominants. But you, Jared..." He tipped the boy's chin up, watching the last of the sunlight spill over the planes of his face, dignity there unbroken, if tarnished by time and experience. "You carry a great tenderness. You have hidden it, and shielded it, and you have tried to pretend that it isn't there, to the point where you can no longer recognize it. But I can. You are...an amazing fertile. An amazing ailure. You gave my son everything you had in you, every piece of love you had left, and yet you still came to give him away, without conditions or restrictions. I have...never met such a fertile."

Jared didn't say anything to that, though his expression softened. Jensen wasn't sure he'd have even heard it, if Jared had replied. The alpha had meant every word that he said. He'd just been unaware that he'd thought it.

He was looking at Jared, so very young, and so very wounded, but still carrying himself with the grace that the human world would have been unable to recognize. Even more sensitive than most fertiles, he'd still borne up under that pressure, survived it and chosen to survive it, when he could have as easily laid down and given in. Strong as any dominant, beautiful as any fertile.

Jensen didn't know if that incredible combination came from the Dawnbringer blood running in Jared's veins, or just Jared, who he was at his core, but Jensen realized, in that moment, crouched there, that he would never again find a fertile like this one.

There existed none in the world, save this one. Perfect and damaged, metal that had been had been melted and hammered, shaped and formed by hurt he never asked for, but came out the other side only more stunning.

"...what?" Jared asked suddenly, and Jensen realized he was staring, mouth a little open.

"I'm-- Nothing. Sorry. I--" He shook his head, lowerig his hands carefully. He'd always understood what it meant to worship the fertile, to want to see them safe and happy. But he'd never known it, all through him. Never fully grasped the desire to serve that his father had described, the need to make this one fertile, above all others, content. Never known it until he was on the ground, almost kneeling before one far too young and far too holy for Jensen to touch.

"Are you okay?" Jared just looked a little confused now, his face still worn, voice still croaky with emotion.

"Yes, I'm--" Jensen had no idea what to say. So confident only a minute ago, he now found himself utterly lost. He'd never felt like this before -- like something powerless and small. Even if Jeff had challenged him, even if Misha and the beta had fallen upon him, he would have stood strong, even in the face of his death.

And yet this young fertile had managed to do what even the greatest dominants never could: bring Jensen to his knees.

"Would you--..." he started, then rethought things. "I do want you to stay, Jared. And I'm sorry, to put it all on you..."

"No, you were right." Jared took a slow, deep breath, lifting a hand to rub one finger into his eye, though he'd never cried. "I do need to decide. And...I will. Tonight. In the morning I'll-- ... I'll know. In the morning."

"Alright," Jensen replied, feeling a little like a great rock was hanging over his head, and he was childishly tempted to tell Jared to nevermind his ultimatum -- to wait as long as he needed to, so long as he decided to stay. But Jensen wasn't a child anymore, and he held his tongue.

He rose to his feet again, brushing grit and pineneedles off his pants, and he looked down at Jared.

"Walk with me?" he asked. If this could be Jared's last night here, he wanted one last walk with him. He held out a hand to the younger ailure. Jared glanced at the extended palm, then lifted his hand, slipping it into Jensen's.

Jensen smiled.

-----

Jared didn't know how long they walked.

It was nighttime by the time they got back, having gone down to the river's edge, and then along it. They'd followed the river downstream, and, after awhile, Jared found he'd recognized little pieces of things, like snapshots. The blurry memories of his last stretch to reach the pride, wandering along the river bank and into the forest with Tristan in his jaws.

He and Jensen didn't exchange many words, the both of them with bigger things on their minds and Jared a little emotionally exhausted, but they did talk a little.

Jared would point out a rock or a tree and murmur something about his journey, and Jensen would listen, walking over the pebbled bank with his bare feet, occasionally wading into the river. The sun, already low in the sky, sank away, the crickets coming out with their tiny violins, and Jared felt strange. Removed. Like he existed in the world and yet didn't.

A creature in limbo, neither here nor there.

But when he turned and looked at the alpha, Jensen's green eyes following the duck and weave of the fireflies, Jared got a sense, at least, of which side of the river he wanted to be on.

He felt that strange aura, that sensation of safety, of firm ground beneath him, and it would go away, if he left Jensen. If he didn't have an alpha. It wasn't that it stopped being frightening, because there was always the possibility of loss, something that life always reminded him -- nothing was permanent, everything could change, anything could be lost at any time -- and he was too used to it to ever really trust that things would work out. But when Jensen turned away from the hovering lights of the insects in the air and smiled a little, an expression of comfort, an expression that said 'You are safe, you are okay. Nothing can hurt you here,' Jared felt that fear wane a little. Wane enough that he could almost forget it.

When they got back to pride ground, and Jensen walked with him back to Julie and Misha's cabin, Jared had the insane sensation of a teenager being delivered back to his parents house after a date. He chuckled a little, ascending the steps, but when Jensen reached out, snatching Jared's wrist, and Jared turned to glance down at Jensen, he wondered if it was so insane after all. Jensen stood at the base of the steps, one foot on the first one, looking up at Jared.

Jared had promised he'd decide tonight, that he would make his choice in the morning.

Looking at Jensen at the foot of the stairs, he felt that decision strangely light in his chest. The peace of the night, the haze of the mountains, made it seem like for once, things might be alright.

Jared felt a little surprise spark through him when Jensen leaned up to his hand, the older ailure rubbing the side of his mouth against the inside of Jared's wrist, a cat rubbing up against something in pleasure, and Jared could feel the faint vibration of Jensen's purr against his skin.

He laughed a little, the sensation almost ticklish, but also something more.

"...night," was all he said, knowing that, as much as he just wanted to tell Jensen he'd stay, he needed to know that he'd still feel the same way in the morning, when the southern night had stopped working its spell on him. When the forest, which still remembered a time when the world ran on riddles instead of reason, and was old enough to have a little magic of its own, no longer had the cover of darkness to work its will.

Jensen released Jared's hand and nodded, stepping back.

Jared made his way into the cabin, careful and quiet, knowing the cubs would be asleep, and made it over to his bed of blankets. He pulled off his shoes and his pants, keeping his shirt and boxers on. He only barely managed to miss squishing Tristan, who was already asleep in the folds of the sheets. Jared chuckled, scooting around the kitten until he could get settled, then reached out, cupping his large hands around Tristan's small body and pulled the cub up against Jared's chest. Tristan grumbled and warbled, but didn't fully wake, settling into a low purr as Jared pulled the covers up over them.

"Your mom had a pretty good night, Tristan..." Jared murmured to no one, and he rubbed his fingers into the soft fluff of the kitten's back. Sleep wasn't hard to find, contentment lazy in his limbs.

That contentment should have been his first clue that the world wasn't going to let him have this.

Chapter Text

When Jared woke up, he had two thoughts.

The first was that he still wanted to stay -- remembering Jensen's hand holding him still, Jensen's rubbing the corner of his mouth against Jared's wrist, and Tristan, still balled up against his chest asleep.

The second thought was that his skin felt too tight, like clothing one size too small.

For a little while, that first thought eclipsed everything else, and he forgot exactly what that sensation meant, something he would usually never forget. Something that had been burned into his consciousness. For the moment though, it was hidden by the trickery of content. Of actually thinking, for even a second, there was a place for him.

He rolled over on to his side, Tristan warking softly before settling back into the covers. Jared leaned down to sniff the little curled up form, feeling pleased at the warm, yeasty scent of clean and sleepy cub. He nuzzled into the kitten's fur, leaving a kiss against Tristan's elbow. The cub stirred enough to hiss a little at Jared, who only smiled.

"Now it's your turn to be grumpy in the mornings, mm?"

Tristan didn't deign to respond, and Jared heaved himself over, feet and hands padding on the floor as he pushed himself to stand. He stretched his arms up above his head with a groan, feeling his back flex and pop and he was glad that living in a tent for two years had gotten him used to sleeping on the floor. The ailure didn't really do mattresses.

He winced when he dropped his arms back to his side, still feeling like he hadn't stretched, and he twisted himself from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the tension. His nose wrinkled when it didn't dissipate, and he rubbed at his arms. His skin felt stiff and sore, too stretched, like it didn't belong to him.

He was possessed of an irritating feeling of being in the wrong place. Like he'd woken up in the wrong bed and there was somewhere else he needed to be. It was an errant thought, not strong enough for him to hold on to, but he grimaced, the sensation like an itch in the back of his brain. He scratched his forearm and walked over to his bag to get dressed. He'd need to take his clothes down to the river and wash them sometime soon. He was getting kind of rank.

Body odor wasn't a big issue for a group of people who lived in the wild, thankfully, so if he got a bit sweaty, no one really cared. He remembered him and his brothers, back in Wyoming, always hating when people wore deodorant or perfume. When they'd gotten old enough to begin shaving, they'd all avoided aftershave or cologne. The artificial scents made their eyes tear up and burned in their noses, far worse than any scent the body naturally put out.

Jared had never understood how Daniel had managed to woo so many girls, given that he never wore a bit of deodorant. He could only assume that looks trumped smell.

He smirked a little, unused to thinking of his family without feeling a pang, but even though that wallow of guilt remained, he found it didn't seem as bad. After all, he had a choice now, an option besides solitude.

He flushed a little, remembering against the sensation of Jensen rubbing up against this wrist.

An option besides solitude, and, maybe, a family waiting for him.

He'd never been attracted to a guy before, but then again, he'd never been attracted to a girl, either. He'd always just joked or teased when people asked him why he didn't date, happy to let his brothers do all the wooing and the staying out late. At their school Jared was just known as the comedian of the triplets. Someone everyone liked but no one took seriously.

He'd always considered himself to be straight, but it was more nominal than based on any kind of fact or experience. Like most American teenagers, straight was just the default setting in his head, growing up in Wyoming doing nothing to change that idea. Sure, he'd wondered, back then. He'd thought about why it was when Stacy asked him out he gently turned her down, as pretty and nice as she was. Or that when his brothers had goaded(on Daniel's part) and encouraged(on Brandon's) him to go out with Ramona Hernandez, and he'd had a nice time, enjoyed her company and laughed at the same jokes in the movie that she did, but when they got home and she leaned in for a kiss, he'd dodged and kissed her cheek instead, pretending he didn't see the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

It wasn't like he'd been attracted to any guys, so it wasn't that. He'd considered it, when he was fifteen, as some kind of explanation as to why he just wasn't as interested as other people seemed to be, but a quick look at some less than polished porn on the internet had quickly demolished that notion.

He paused, holding his shirt in his hands as his mind went back to the conversation that he'd had with Jensen the other day. He couldn't deny the uncomfortable but familiar squiggle of nerves in his stomach at the thought, at his nature as a fertile, but Jensen had said that it was alright. That it was beautiful, even, and maybe if Jared wasn't there yet, he could at least believe that Jensen was right about one thing: denying it wasn't helping.

It wasn't like there had been a lot of dominants at his school, after all. He hadn't known it then, but his eyes had been traveling over his classmates, looking for those signals, looking for a dominant to match him and finding none.

He wasn't gay or straight, those concepts inherently seated in gender in a way that didn't come naturally to ailure. He was fertile. And that meant he wasn't looking for a male or a female specifically, just a dominant, and Jensen... Jensen fit that bill.

Jared's breath stuttered unexpectedly, and his stomach cramped.

He bent over a little, taking an unsteady breath.

The thought of Jensen had come on like a shot, bright and unexpected -- or, at least, his reaction was unexpected. He rubbed his stomach, straightening out and lifting up his shirt to pull it over his head. He walked over to the wall to grab his shoes, tugging them on, but paused when he caught scent of something strange. He stared at the door to Julie and Misha's quarters, stared at it like it would move, like it would come to life and spring at him.

He slowly finished tugging on his second shoe and began to take uncertain steps over towards the door, gaze wary but wondering. When he got close enough he leaned in, feeling the wood brush rough and uneven against his nose. That scent trailed over him again, something strong and unmistakable. It smelled like the woods, dirty and pungent and good, and Jensen's hand on his flashed through his head again, the feeling of his fingers wrapped so easily around Jared's wrist.

Jared choked out a moan, leaning his forehead against the door as he felt muscles inside of him clench and work, going slick as he braced himself on the wood.

It was Misha. Oh god, he was scenting Misha.

Jared pushed himself off of the door, feeling cold and clammy, sick with knowledge because he knew exactly what this was. The curse he suffered through two times every year, gross and wet and restless, that horrible nowhere feeling that made him want to run and roll and rub himself up against any rough surface.

He curled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth.

It was early. Maybe it could be diverted, like some kind of biological cold.

Not that it had ever worked before, but god, Jared thought, please let it work today. Today of all days.

He felt himself on the verge of hyperventilating, letting it all get out of hand. Maybe it wasn't really happening, maybe he was just freaking himself out. He tried to slow his breathing, tried to get himself back under control.

He needed to--... Water. Somewhere cool. Just.

He swallowed, turning and walking straight out the front door, fingers fumbling with the latch, barely just remembering to close it behind him to keep any kittens from getting out. Pride ground was washed with pale dawn light, and he could see a few other ailure padding around, just one or two here or there, but Jared's eyes fell to the two betas on patrol, walking through the center of the village, talking to each other, and panic shot through him, like they'd see it, smell it. But the two guards just walked right past him, barely sparing a glance.

Jared thanked whatever shred of luck he had left and moved away from the cabin, walking in jerky motions down the slope of pride ground and towards the treeline.

-----

Jensen tried not to be eager.

He also tried not to over think what there was to be eager about.

Jared needed a pride, and he obviously needed shoulders to lean on. He needed guidance and reassurance and someone to teach him what it meant to be an ailure, to become comfortable with himself beyond his pre-conceived human notions. Not to mention that Jared was one of the last of the Dawnbringers, a revelation for all ailure across the world. There were a lot of good reasons for Jared to stay, and for why Jensen should be glad he did.

Except none of those were the reasons that Jensen was thinking about.

He was thinking about looking up at Jared from the bottom of the stairs, the boy's head haloed by the lights on over the cabin's door, his hand in Jensen's. He was thinking about the feel of rubbing his scent glands against the boy's wrist, even if they didn't exist in that body. He was thinking of the way Jared laughed, confused and happy, and the faint outline of a promise in the Skybreaker's eyes. The promise of 'yes.'

So, he tried not to be eager, but he still found himself over at Julie and Misha's cabin that morning, leaning down when Tristan came jogging over to greet him. When he asked Misha, though, he didn't get the answer he was looking for.

"Jared's not here,' Misha said, sitting on the edge of his porch, legs dangling.

Jensen frowned, feeling himself bracing for bad news. He tried not to jump to conclusions, holding Tristan against his shoulder.

"He's...gone?"

"...well, he's not here, so...you know..." Misha replied, giving Jensen a 'have you gone around the bend?' look. Jensen made a sound of frustration.

"No. I don't mean gone. I mean gone gone. As in left. Permanently."

"Not as far as I'm aware." Misha frowned. "I mean, his bag and all his stuff is still here. He'd already left when Julie and I got up this morning. I can't imagine he'd just skip out without saying anything."

"No, he wouldn't..." Jensen agreed, shaking his head.

"Why would you think he'd be gone permanently?"

"We had..." Jensen wasn't sure, exactly, how to describe last night. There were a lot of things about last night, not the least of which was a fertile that was far too young for Jensen to be considering in any way other than as a pride member who needed some guidance from his alpha. "We had an agreement. That this morning he would decide, one way or another, if he was staying or going."

Misha sucked in a breath, making a hissing noise as he grimaced.

"You sure that's a good idea, bossman? What if he chooses to leave?"

"He doesn't belong to us. I meant everything that I said before, that he is pride, that we take care of him... But he still gets a say in the matter. We can't force him."

"Still...bit of a gamble."

"Yeah..." Jensen glanced over his shoulder at pride ground, then shifted to lower Tristan to the ground, letting his son join the other cubs. "Just...keep an eye out for him, would you? Maybe he just needed some time to think."

"Where'll you be?"

"Gonna go on patrol." He shrugged once. It was better than sitting around in the main house, or worse, on Misha's front porch, like a love sick cub. Patrol, at least, would take his mind off of things.

He hoped.

Misha nodded his ascent, and Jensen gave a wave to Julie as he made his way back up to the house to get undressed and shift. Hopefully, by the time he was back, Jared would have come to a decision.

-----

The water was cold around him, muddy under his feet, but he hadn't even bothered to take off his shoes.

Jared's body was half drifting in the calm section of the river, at the bottom of pride ground, his torso pressed up against a rock, clinging to it, water up to the bottom of his chest. The heat of the day hadn't peaked yet, the air still temperate as the sun rose, but the river felt icy around him. He knew it wasn't really. That it would be pleasant, if he'd gotten into it in the afternoon. But he'd been floating in the current for two hours now, and his core body temperature was dropping, making him shiver and shake.

And it was doing nothing to get rid of that feeling.

There was somewhere he had to be. Somewhere he desperately needed to get to, but he didn't know where. His skin felt like it was crawling and writhing, moving over his flesh and displacing itself, looking for something that Jared didn't know how to name. He pressed his cheek to the grit of the rock, feeling it cold, hard and unforgiving beneath him -- no forgiveness for him, not for this. His fingers clenched, nails scraping, and he tried to breath, teeth chittering.

He felt sick, like he was going to throw up, except he couldn't. The sickness was lower, deeper, cramping down just above his groin and he groaned, thinking of that empty space inside, shame and fear roiling through him like the angry waves of a storm, hammering the shore of whatever calm he had left.

"There's nothing wrong with you."

Jared groaned and arched up against the rock, pressing his body into it, feeling Jensen's voice through the earth, the rough edge of gravel pressing together, grinding and sensual. Jared turned his head, licking the stone and tasting the brackish water that lapped up against it, sediment scouring his tongue, and he kept licking, rubbing his face, his cheek against it.

It wasn't going away. If anything, it was worse than it normally was, something screaming in him. Jared choked out a laugh, wondering if it was because his body knew. Maybe it knew he was surrounded by plenty of healthy dominants now, and wouldn't that just be the punishment his body deserved? Maybe if he threw himself to them and lifted his tail they'd take their turns, eking out those marks against him.

He growled, sobbed. He didn't deserve it. He'd never done anything wrong, never wanted any of this. It was his body, his stupid, messed up body that didn't know what it was, like a cage around him, and he didn't know why he had to be born into it, why it couldn't have been someone else.

"The fertile give their love so freely, so beautifully."

Jared pressed his forehead to the stone, feeling feverish. Maybe that was what Jensen had meant. Giving their love so freely. Just rolling over and taking whatever the dominants chose to doll out, so pathetically needy that they'd give it up for anything with a cock. The thought made Jared gag, coughing hard as his hips rutted. He wasn't aroused. But his body still wanted it.

He was breathing hard again, too hard, vision swimming and he looked out at the sun, pale and unblinking -- the Eye, the ailure called it -- staring down at him, judgmental and distant. The cold face of someone looking down at something that was so much as trash, something that wasn't worth saving.

I'm here, Jared thought, looking up at it and wishing someone could hear him inside his cell. I'm right here. Please. Save me.

'Are you alright?' a voice interrupted him, and he whirled around, sinking in the water the minute he turned, having no balance, and even the gentle current enough to knock him over, sinking under. The water closed up over his head and he let all his air out in a foolish yell, feeling the floor of the river scrape by beneath him. Then something stiff grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him back and up through the water. He spluttered as his head came above the surface again, and whoever it was was dragging him back to shore. The substrate rolled against his back as he was pulled up onto the bank, breathing in uneven jerks. He hadn't swallowed any water but he still felt like he couldn't breath.

His eyes were open, unblinking, but he didn't see his rescuer for a moment, seeing but blind until he blinked, looking up.

There was a large dominant looking down at him, and he was laying on her front paws, her head arched over him, frill hanging low.

'Are you alright?' she asked again this time with more direct concern. Jared stared up at her, shivering with cold in the North Carolina summer. He said nothing, couldn't say anything, his skin getting tighter and tighter until it felt like he couldn't possibly fit, the ache in his stomach blossoming like a flower, like a bullet hole, up and into every nerve, making him itch in every pore, itch down in some unscratchable place.

He keened and arched his back before turning over, still half in the water, and he reached up, grabbing her mane. He heard her make a sound of surprise, but she didn't back away. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the bulk of her muscles, the height of her shoulders. Maybe she could do it. He'd had it explained to him by Adrianne and Clayton. The female dominants had their own way of getting inside of him, and he could shift, right now, turn his body into the right form and she'd take her toll, push into him, and maybe his body would learn its lesson. Learn just how bad he could let it hurt.

He scrabbled up, closer, pressing his face into her fur, fingers tightening, one in the thick fur on her neck, the other in the base of her frill, clinging and hanging off of her. Any moment now. Any moment. Any moment now.

The dominant lifted one paw from the ground, wrapping her leg around him in an awkward kind of embrace, holding him in return.

'It's okay,' she said, her voice confused but clearly trying to be comforting. 'It's okay now, you'll be alright... Just tell me what's wrong.'

And Jared sobbed, laughing miserably into her coat.

Of course she wouldn't.

Of course she wouldn't do that. These people were good people. They cared for each other, looked after each other. What Jensen had said before -- he'd meant it. Because he was a good person with good people all around, with good fertiles, and nothing like Jared. He could beg for their contempt all he wanted, and they'd just try to help him.

He didn't need help. He didn't want help.

He needed--

He needed--

He needed to be gone.

He wrenched himself back, feeling water droplets falling from his messy bangs, and he saw the dominant watching him with confused and concerned eyes. He scrambled back like a crab, finally managing to get himself to his feet, even as the world swayed and spun like a top.

The sun would bake the water off of him and his skin would shrink, would get smaller and smaller until he wasn't there anymore.

"Just leave me alone," he managed to get out, voice clenched and as gritty as the river bottom. "Please...leave me alone."

He turned, stumbling off down the river bank, his equilibrium gone and his steps unsteady. He had had something to decide today. Something that was his. A choice that he got to make, for once. But his body had taken that from him, because he didn't get to have any say in what it did or didn't do.

He felt himself sob on a breath.

He'd almost been happy, for just a moment. And his stupid body was going to take that away from him, again.

-----

When early afternoon rolled around and there was still no sign of Jared, Misha's worry deepened. Jensen was still out on patrol, but his words from that morning had made unease kick up in Misha's chest, and unease always made him busy.

He'd cleaned the cabin twice, repaired the leak in the roof over the porch, and used the scrap materials to make a dodgy looking slide for the kids by the time the Julie told him he needed to sit down(she might have said sit the fuck down, Misha, specifically), and the captain had been forced to relent.

Thankfully, his twitchy repose didn't last long.

Brigitte, one of his betas, approached the cabin at an easy lope, nodding her head in greeting.

'Captain.'

"Brigitte, hey." He pushed himself up, walking over to the cat. "What is it?" A beta on duty wouldn't approach him for idle chit chat.

'The fertile you asked us to watch over, the newcomer. I saw him down at the river just a few minutes ago.'

"The river?" Misha's brow furrowed. "What was he doing?"

'I'm not sure, to be honest. When I first saw him I thought perhaps he was going for a swim, but he was fully dressed. And when I got closer, I saw he was clinging to a rock.'

"Was he alright?" Misha took a step closer, as if his actions now could somehow effect Brigitte's tale of what had happened.

'He seemed to be okay physically. I surprised him and he lost his balance, so I pulled him out. After that...' Her yellow eyes slid to the side, considering her words. 'I'm not sure, to be honest. I tried to find if he was bleeding, but the river water covered his scent. He seemed...out of it. I offered to help him, but he pushed away and walked off. I didn't get the impression he wanted me to follow him.'

Misha nodded, understanding. He would never order any of his betas to follow a fertile against their will. The physical superiority of the dominants demanded an understanding that the fertiles' will was law, else the fertiles could too easily find their wants and their opinions being drowned out by dominants who were too overprotective for their own good.

"Thanks," he replied, finally. "Thanks for the report. You're on the river bank this afternoon then?"

'Sir,' she nodded in the affirmative.

"Head on back. I'll let the alpha know when he returns from his patrol of the hunting grounds."

After Brigitte left, her words on his mind, even Julie couldn't stop Misha's fidgeting.

It wasn't until two hours later that Jared showed up. Misha was down the slope, helping some other members of the pride building a new cabin when Julie jogged up.

"Misha!" she called, and his attention snapped to her, ever nerve ending in his body wired to detect the slightest stress in his mate, and her voice was bogged in worry. "Misha, Jared came back," she continued as he walked up to her, reached out to her. Even if he knew she was fine, he still touched her shoulders, needing the feel of her okay under him. "He's packing his bag."

The captain pressed his lips together and didn't say anything, just nodded and moved around her, running back up the hill to their cabin. His cubs, as well as Tristan, were all lazing about outside, the alpha's cub watching Jared's jerky movements with curious eyes.

Jared himself was just inside the cabin's door, shoving his belongings into his sack, the clothes he was currently wearing dirty and smeared with river mud, his hair dried and greasy. He was shaking.

"Jared--" he started, coming up the stairs.

"No!"

The yell was so loud, so unexpected, that Misha actually jumped. Jared had whirled around, his eyes wide with panic, like a rabbit gone still and terrified in the face of death. Misha had never expected a fertile to ever look at him like that. He put both hands up.

"Jared, what's going on?" he asked in the lowest, calmest voice that he could.

"I'm going. I have to-- I'm going." Jared turned back to his packing, if that was what it could be called. He was picking up anything he owned, his clothes, his few meager belongings and stuffing them into the bag without care. He was shaking hard enough that he occasionally dropped things, picking them up over and over again until he apparently decided that he had everything he needed, even if a few things were still strewn about. He marched out of the cabin and jogged unevenly down the steps.

"Jared, just... Can you wait for the alpha? Please? Let us at least hear why you have to--"

"No. I have to go now. I'm... I'm sorry. And thank you. For all the..." Jared looked up, looked at the sky, searching it, and Misha's brow furrowed, seeing Jared's eyes darting around like he was seeing too many things at once. Then Jared blinked and his gaze refocused. "Thank you for helping me. Goodbye."

The fertile turned to go, almost tripping over Tristan in the process, who'd been preparing to pounce on the dragging end of Jared's pants.

"Shit!" Jared cursed, jumping and stumbling to avoid the cub, who just watched him with a quirked head. "Tristan, Christ..." Jared stared down at him for a moment, and Misha felt confined, just watching, not knowing what to say when he had no idea what was wrong.

Jared nudged the cub with his foot.

"Go back to the others, Trist," he said, voice detached and quiet. Tristan thought it was a game and flopped over, Jared's foot just rolling him onto his back. He grabbed onto Jared's shoe, biting it. "Trist--Tristan, goddamnit..." Jared stumbled back, trying to tug his foot away and only succeeded in losing his shoe. The sudden freedom caused the boy to fall back on his ass, grunting as he hit the ground. "Goddamnit!" he yelled, anger painting his features as he scrambled back up, one shoe on and one shoe off.

Tristan got up, obviously hearing the tone in Jared's voice, but still too young to know what it meant. Instead of backing away, he trotted forward, looking for attention.

"No," Jared said insistently, stepping back, but Tristan just moved over to him again. Misha made to go forward, to intervene, but some part of him was hoping that Tristan's bond with the fertile would change Jared's mind.

"No, Tristan." Jared shoved the kitten back again. "You have to stay. here." The kitten got up and Jared pushed him back, and the kitten got up and Jared pushed him back. Misha could see the frustration mounting in Jared's stressed features, and when the cub leaped forward in play, scratching Jared's hand, the fertile gave a cry, clasping his hand to his chest. Misha came to his side, putting his hands on Jared's arms, too used to physically comforting the fertile to not want to go to him, but Jared just yanked away.

"Goddamnit, you have to stay here! You can't come with me! I'm not your mom!" he yelled, loud. Loud enough to get the attention of the rest of the pride in the area, his voice scratchy and distressed, painted with frustration and despair. Misha felt the force of it, enough to make his body go stiff.

Tristan's ears went down at the sound, no mistaking the anger now, and huddled his body to the ground instinctively.

Jared was panting, his eyes too wide, all whites, and Misha tried to reach for him again, hesitantly this time.

Jared turned before he could get to him, making to leave. Misha turned his attempt to calm into one to restrain, grabbing Jared's wrist, needing to keep him here, needing to find out what was wrong.

"Jared--"

"Let me go."

"Jared--"

"Let me go!" The fertile yanked at his hand, and a second later he shifted, his clothing falling off as he leapt out in his cat form, his paws landing on the rocky ground. He didn't pause, just started running, sunlight racing over the distinctive dark stripes on his back, and Misha stumbled forward. Jared's clothing laid rumbled across the ground and his knapsack, half open and spilling items, was abandoned, the young ailure leaving pride ground alone and with nothing.

Misha's brow set, lips pursing.

"Someone!" he yelled, looking around. There was the sound of paws on stone, and two of his betas ran up quickly, their ears perked and alert. "Go find the alpha, bring him back here, now."

They nodded and turned away, powerful bodies sprinting up the hill, the opposite direction from Jared and towards the hunting grounds.

Jensen had said that Jared was going to make a decision today, but whatever it was that had just happened, it hadn't been anything like Misha was expecting.

-----

Even at his top speed, Jensen knew he'd get back to pride ground too late.

The two betas who'd come to get him were flanking him as he ran, as he left the forest and raced out onto pride ground. He stopped only long enough to verify that his lands, his pride, were safe and whole, then jogged down towards Misha's cabin. Even on the approach, he could hear his son, the same little chirps and cries he'd made every time Jensen he locked him in for the night. Jensen knew the cries of a cub searching for his mother.

'What happened?' he asked, out of breath as he approached. Misha came quickly down the steps, Julie on the porch holding Tristan.

"I don't know. He was upset. More. He was...panicking. It wasn't him, Jensen."

'The hell do you mean?'

"I mean he was having a panic attack, or something. He yelled at Tristan and then he ran. Left all his stuff."

Jensen felt himself wince, worry and a million possibilities running through his head, and none that fit. Tristan seemed alright, if a little upset, but Jared...

Jensen looked around and spotted the pile of belongings on the edge of the porch. This wasn't a decision. This didn't sound anything like a decision. Something had happened. Jensen had promised himself he'd let Jared go without a fight, if that was what he wanted, but Jensen didn't even know if it was what he wanted. Something had scared Jared, badly. Something had happened between last night, Jared all soft smiles and shy glances, and now, yelling at Tristan and running in blind fear.

'...I'm going after him.'

"Alpha," Misha crouched down to be on eye level. "Are you sure?"

'If this is what he wants, then fine. But I didn't expect this. I expected... He should have at least said goodbye. I need to at least know he'll be alright. And if he is, and he says he doesn't want to come back... Then I'll leave it at that. But this isn't-- Something's wrong, Misha.'

"Should I send some of the beta with you?"

Jensen shook his head.

'No. Keep them here. Defend pride ground in my absence. The last thing Jared needs is to feel outnumbered.'

Misha listened, nodding his head in obedience. In that moment, Jensen truly felt like an alpha again, knowing and in control. And he knew what he had to do. He moved up the steps, waiting for Julie to lean down so that he could comfort his son, licking the side of his face.

Tristan quieted, purring quietly at the affection.

'Don't worry...' Jensen murmured, running his tongue over Tristan's fur. 'I'm going to go get him. I'm going to try and bring your mother home... Just wait, alright? I'll be back.'

He gave his son one last nuzzle before stepping back, loping off of the porch and through the gathered detritus of the forest.

Running full tilt into the woods, headed down to the river. Bringing back Jared wasn't something he could promise his son. Not with any certainty, but he could damn well promise to try.

He could remember them talking the night before about the way that Jared had come to pride ground, and Jensen would head down stream and hope. He could only just scent Jared in the air, a barely lingering presence that would soon fade as if the fertile had never been there, had never come into their pride and their lives, bringing home Jensen's son and something more.

Bringing back a piece of himself that Jensen had almost sacrificed to the pall of the river and those small grey bodies.

If Jared could bring him that, then Jensen could at least bring Jared home.

Chapter Text

The moon was out and shining down on the surface of the water, silvery waves choppy as they parted around rocks, babbling peacefully through the night. It made the forest glow, lit up so bright and yet muted, still, a peace there that didn't exist during the day. Jared watched the water flow by, looked not at the wideness of the river, how great the distance across was, but stared, instead, at a single rock, claw marks etched into it that Jared was too far away to see.

He'd crossed here, once.

With a baby in his mouth and the naive belief that just because the water looked calm that the current wasn't strong enough to sweep him away. He remembered Tristan's fur in his mouth, the cub trusting him to look after him, the innocent and ignorant belief of a child that the adult they were depending on knew what the hell they were doing. That anyone ever knew what they were doing. Tristan had believed in Jared with all the false preconceptions of an infant, his awareness of the world limited to the tent and the forest and mother.

Mother.

Jared got up and paced the river bank. His stomach was flat now, his milk having dried up after his exhausted collapse, after Julie took over nursing Tristan and his body recognized that it wasn't needed anymore. He still remembered though, a cub too small to survive, a cub stiff with the offer of death, moving in jerky fits, reaching a trembling paw out, searching for warmth, for life, determined to survive despite everything. He remembered Tristan's mouth suckling hard with that same determination, paws kneading ineffectively to get at that milk.

At the time, Jared had resented the whole thing.

Now, two days down river from the pride and alone, feeling the absence of his child like a missing limb, Jared ached for it. He wanted Tristan. He wanted Tristan back with him, curled up with him, pressed into his fur and nursing, where he was supposed to be.

Jared let out a scream, the angry pitch of it echoing off of the mountains, his lips curling back over fangs. His paw swiped angrily through rocks and rubble, sending them clattering over and into the river as Jared continued to stalk its bank.

He wanted his cub.

He wanted the burning fever in his body to go away, so he could go back, so he could murmur apologies into Tristan's fur, pick the kitten up in his hands and hold him close. He wanted to be asleep in his messy pile of blankets, not out here, alone, wandering the wilderness like a pariah. His throat hurt, and he wanted to hear Jensen tell him that he was tender and good, that he was something special, and that he had a home.

The heat dove in him, pitching wildly. Two days since he'd left pride ground. Three days since the morning when he'd woken up and knew the heat had hit him, and it was stronger now than ever. Jared knew from experience that it lasted a week, but this deep in, language and logic were weak at best, and all he could think about was how his skin hurt, too hot and too dry.

He moaned, throwing himself forward to rub fervently against the rocks on the river bank, pushing his body along with his back legs. He rubbed his face, the side of his mouth, against a stone, over and over again, purring. The pleasure swelled and grew, moving higher, making him roll onto his back and kick his legs in the air. He stretched out, staring up at the stars without seeing them, feeling like his insides were alive and moving.

When it became too much, he stretched his neck and yowled, flipping over onto his stomach, positioning his hips, even though he knew no one was there. He yowled again, and again, calling for a mate, tail lifting and leaving his scent all over the rocks. No one was going to come though. He remembered that suddenly, and how had he forgotten it? When had he forgotten it? He felt like the mists of the mountainsides had rolled into his head, fogging his thoughts and making everything moist and damp. No one was going to come because there was no one here. Just Jared and the river. Just Jared and the forest, again.

A vision of a life flashed through him, a solitary cat trapped in the woods, going mad with age and seclusion, hunting for himself until his teeth fell out and his coat went ragged, pathetic and dumb as any beast. Going stupid and unknowing until his eyes turned black, until they sunk into his head, until he didn't have eyes anymore, just those black gaping holes reaching into his skull, wandering the mountains, his paws stumbling, leaves moving, shifting, seasons passing, roots growing into his fur and the forest growing into him, over him, convinced he was dead when he wasn't he wasn't, he was alive, he was still alive--

Jared leapt to his feet with a gasp of air, breathing hard, eyelids strained back, still feeling the chill of snow on him, passing into spring and then summer and then fall and winter again, over and over again, trying to decay him, trying to take him away.

Take him away down the river, far away, where the world went silent with predatory hush, the trees losing their foliage and reaching out, reaching over and around him, trees lost in winter with their claws trying to get at him. No one would know, when he went down that river. No one would know but the moon, blind and unseeing, because Jared didn't have a family.

He'd had one, once, but he'd lost them.

No one would mourn when Jared faded into dirt, no one but the plants that would leech whatever they could from his carcass and discard the rest, because Jared didn't have people who loved him.

He'd almost had them, just a moment ago, but they'd slipped through his fingers.

Jared lifted his head, turned it up to the moon and yowled his grief, tears feeling sticky in his fur as he cried out to the skies. It didn't matter anymore. There was no reason to be quiet. No one was there with him, and there never would be.

He was alone.

He was always going to be alone.

-----

Jensen followed Jared's trail for two days, keeping a steady pace so as not to tire himself, as much as he wanted to run sometimes.

It wasn't like Jared's trail was hard to follow -- he wasn't trying to hide it. It didn't even look like he'd thought to hide it. There were broken twigs and stepped on leaves, Jared moving downstream at an uneven pace. The first day, Jensen traveled miles before finding Jared's resting spot. The next day, he found multiple resting spots along the trail, like Jared had only been able to go so far before taking refuge.

It didn't seem like the other cat thought anyone was going to come after him, and that thought tugged fiercely in Jensen's heart.

The closer Jensen got, as he caught up to the wandering pace of the fertile, the more prominent Jared's scent became, making following him even easier, the dominant moving faster as he didn't have to stop and look for a trail. It was in one of the resting spots, though, that Jensen got his first indication of what might have gone wrong.

He'd found an area in the brush where Jared had obviously laid down, a large patch of foliage flattened by the rolling body of an ailure, leaving a jagged circle in his wake. Jensen moved over to scent it, to check the area and see if he could pick up any other clues, and his lips pulled back as a strong odor assaulted him, thick and sickly sweet. It wasn't a good smell, not something he'd want to stick his nose in, but he found himself drawn to it anyways, pressing his face into the leaves to rub against them before his brain caught up with him.

Heat. There was heat scent all over the bed, the spray dried now, but the smell still strong.

Jensen's fertiles wouldn't hit their second heat for another week or two, something he'd had in the back of his mind while working through the pride schedule, knowing when the fertiles would have to go into seclusion and making sure to get the Cove stocked with salted meat, and hunters to bring fresh meat daily. Making sure there were older dominants watching the entrance, just in case a young dominant, too easily led by their dick, forgot themselves and wandered in, caught by the cloud of heat released from so many fertiles in one place. Jensen hadn't thought about it too much though -- it was something they went through twice a year, and the pride had the whole thing down to an art.

He hadn't thought that Jared would go into heat earlier than Jensen's pride, forgetting that the Dawnbringer hadn't been with them long enough to match the other fertiles' cycle.

Jared's scent was heady and powerful, a fertile more than just a day into his cycle, and Jensen instinctively wanted to rub himself against the leaves, maybe lift his leg and spray the area, letting any other creatures that came across the area know that this fertile was taken.

His instincts didn't rule him, though, and he instead finished his inspection and moved away, back on to Jared's trail.

It made sense now, why Jared had run. He didn't know the entirety of the fertile's story, but he knew enough about Jared by this point, and knew the younger ailure hated the fertile aspects of his nature. He thought of the world in a human dichotomy of gender, certain traits assigned to one and not the other, and, apparently, in the human world, it wasn't seemly for males to nurse or mother. Jensen had understood, in an intellectual way, that no human males went into heat or carried children. After all, it was the same with Jensen's prey -- the rabbits and the deer and all the other creatures that lived in Jensen's woods. He understood the biology of it. He'd just never thought about the rest.

How that biology would effect how the humans thought and acted.

He remembered when the Wildlife Officials came to pride ground to negotiate the boundaries of the hunting area, and one of the men had stopped and stared at a fertile who was sunning on a rock in his human form. The fertile's hand been lazily rubbing over his bare, distended belly, cubs sleeping inside of him. At the time Jensen hadn't thought much of it. He'd just assumed the human had maybe been wanting a mate of his own, perhaps jealous of others having children, or maybe the human had found the fertile attractive. Or perhaps he'd just been glad to see someone making a family.

They were all the explanations that Jensen had come up with in his mind, seeing the slack-jawed expression on the human's face, before he'd gathered himself and come inside the main house to talk terms. Jensen's mind had been primarily on the negotiations, still just into his first two years as alpha at the time and wanting to do well, wanting to come forward as firm and authoritative and not be judged on his youth. He'd still known, then, that no human men had the ability to carry children, but for some reason, even though he knew that and he knew the human's expression, he hadn't connected the two in his head, the concept of a culture where the sex of an individual dictated their function too foreign for him to fully grasp beyond the basic elements of biology.

Jared had grown up in that culture. He'd grown up in a world where he was thought of in the same way as the ailure thought of dominants, despite the fact that he carried a womb within him. He'd been told he was a dominant, in human terms, when he wasn't at all. And something like heat, with no preparation, with no ailure mother or fellow fertiles to explain it to him, prepare him, must have been terrifying. And, given Jared's reaction two days ago, likely continued to be terrifying.

Jensen couldn't help but ache over that, his paws instinctively moving faster, trying to find the fertile, a fertile of his pride, lost and scared. Alone. As a dominant, he couldn't stand the idea. As an alpha, he wouldn't stand for it.

Running left a lot of time for thinking, though, and, despite himself, he felt his mind drifting over everything again and again, because this wasn't just one of his fertiles.

Yes, he would do this for any fertile in his pride. Yes, he would be running just as fast, just as hard. He would never leave a fertile to languish, and he couldn't live with himself if he thought he would give more effort for Jared than any of the other fertiles who looked to him for love and protection.

But Jared still wasn't just one of them.

He tried, a little, to justify it by thinking about Jared's Dawnbringer blood. That Jared was the last fertile from a pride whose people had been mercilessly stamped out decades ago, but it was more than that, and he wasn't foolish enough to continue deluding himself. He'd deluded himself before, tried to convince himself that the cub in Jared's arms had nothing to do with him, and for that, Jensen had almost lost his son.

If he tried to hide from the truth now, he might lose the fertile who could be his mate.

Not the first fertile that he'd thought he could love that deeply, but the first fertile that he was sure would.

He still felt a little shame at Jared's age, how much younger the boy was than him, a young fertile just becoming an adult. Most ailure didn't decide to form a mateship until after their first twenty years, and certainly not with an ailure some sixteen years their senior. And, as a Dawnbringer, Jared could definitely do better. If he were revealed to the world, if the rest of the prides knew of his existence, an unmated fertile Skybreaker, Jensen knew Jared'd have dominants from all across the country, perhaps even from other areas of the world, coming to preen for him and trying to impress. The Blue Ridge Pride was decently sized, but it wasn't an old pride by any stretch of the imagination. It didn't even have a name beyond what the humans had given it. Even as an alpha, Jensen wasn't regarded as a particularly big or important figure in the politics of their people, and he knew some of the older prides thought of him as little more than an unimportant alpha of an unimportant pride. If Jared had been found by another pride and announced to the world, Jensen wouldn't have even been invited to visit beyond offering a gift from his pride.

Jared could conceivably take any dominant in the world for a mate. Perhaps one of the snow leopard kings of the Himalayas, or one half of the dual alphas of the Yucatec prides, living in the ruins of their ancient worshippers. A common cougar alpha of a no name pride was no competition.

It was, still, ultimately, Jared's choice. Jensen was still determined to try though, even if Jared rejected him. He would happily bare that shame, rather than not take the chance. If Jared turned Jensen away, then Jensen would leave. Both if Jared didn't want to come back with him, and if Jared didn't want to mate with him. Jensen couldn't deny the twinge of pain at the thought, of having sat at Jared's feet and looked up at him, looked at the sunlight on his skin and known that this was a fertile even the gods in the sky would envy Jensen having, knowing he'd never find another like him, but that didn't give Jensen any right to Jared. It only gave him the will to offer himself, if Jared would have him.

The unease of that question in his mind, the anxiety of whether or not he could have Tristan's mother as his own, if Jared would say yes to him, made him even more determined to find the fertile quickly, wanting to know whether or not to hope.

He still had to pace himself, slowing down to an easy lope, somewhere between walking and jogging, once the afternoon sun set in, traipsing his paws through the edges of the river to keep cool under the Eye's intense gaze. They were only a few weeks after the peak of summer, the days still long, and it was hours before the light began to fade. Jensen was able to go a little faster by the time evening came around, but he was settling into the idea that he wouldn't catch up to Jared today. He'd have to look for a place to bed down, and start up again in the morning.

The sun was well sunk and the moon full and heavy in the sky by the time Jensen decided to stop, searching through the edge of the forest for a suitable resting spot. Somewhere safe to burrow in, even if there was no predator in the woods that would dare to challenge him -- somewhere to curl up and sleep until morning. He was interrupted though, when his ears flicked up, picking up the echo of a cat's scream, angry and distant, moving through the empty air of the mountains.

He was too far from pride ground for it to be one of his cats, and it was coming from down river.

Jared.

Jensen abandoned his half arranged sleeping area, moving purposefully in the direction of the call. If he was close enough to hear the fertile, he was close enough to catch up, and he didn't intend to lose that chance. The scream hadn't sounded like a cat in pain -- more like a scream of rage -- but that didn't much settle Jensen's worry.

Half an hour and two miles down river later, the noise picked up again. Not screams this time but caterwauling, the short, consistent cries of a cat in heat, voice deep and calling for a mate. Jensen felt his body respond instinctually, wanting to call in response, but he was no adolescent dominant, controlled by his urges, and he didn't know if Jared would be frightened by the calls or not.

As he got closer, the caterwauling changed in pitch, and it hurt to hear -- one part the desperate pain of heat, still calling for a mate, and two parts a wrenching grief, and even if he hadn't known it was Jared, he'd feel the instinctive tug to go and comfort the fertile.

He slowed himself when the sound became intense, just around the bend from him. He steadied into a walk, not wanting to rush up or intimidate, and made his way around the jut of the forest, coming to an area where the trees had been pushed back, probably by a swell during heavy rains, leaving a long flat bed of rocks and dirt between the treeline and the river bank. Jared was sitting by the riverside, his head tipped back. His eyes were shut, and he was crying to the sky, the moonlight making the fur on his back seem even more silvery, that almost blue that only happened when the shadows hit him just right, the bright fur of his underbelly muted and hidden away from the light.

Jensen could see the other ailure's whiskers shifting with each call, his mouth opening and stretching then closing, fangs bared. The darker fur around his eyes was matted with tears.

Jensen crooned softly to announce his presence, stepping forward.

The noise caused Jared to jump, ceasing his cries as he turned, hissing loudly at the intruder.

Jensen lowered himself to his belly instantly, creeping over the ground, hind brain dictating his movements and Jensen trusting it, for the moment. Heat made both fertiles and dominants go to a more animal place, less like the people they were and more like the great cats of the wild. Jensen could hold that back, was old enough and experienced enough to know how to deny it, but words wouldn't do Jared any good right now. Even if he understood them at all, he wouldn't be able to work through any kind of reasoned argument that Jensen made.

Jared was working purely off of instinct, deep into his heat and communing with Urrou, his body guided by the god of the fertiles, and Jensen knew there was only one way to speak with him in this state: cat to cat, animal to animal, pure and base. Using his body to tell Jared that he was fine, that there was nothing wrong with him. That Jensen still wanted him.

He let instinct take over, creeping towards the fertile, angling himself low and submissive, crooning softly, lips slightly parted. Jared was watching him warily, eyes darting over him as if confused, but Jensen's careful movements were enough to allow him close, the fertile not moving, though he was still growling. When no violence came, Jensen eased forward a bit more, nose twitching to sniff Jared's fur.

Before he could make contact though, Jared hissed, and Jensen's head was thrown to the side as he was smacked. The fertile stalked away, but didn't leave the area. It gave Jensen hope -- rebuffed, because his mate wasn't easy, would never be easy, but hadn't rejected him outright. The message was loud and clear: You need to work harder. I haven't decided yet, but at least you're not a total failure. Show me you're worth it.

Jensen got to his feet quickly, not minding the way his head throbbed. Courtship for cats was no gentle affair. A fertile in heat didn't have compunctions about marking up a dominant who came to perform for them -- if the dominant failed at the courtship or if they succeeded.

If the marks on Misha's skin, and the marks that Jensen's own father had carried, were to be believed, especially if the courtship succeeded.

Jensen still had three scars on his shoulder from his mounting of Cosette, and their courtship had been one of convenience and arrangement, not passion. Jensen found his skin itching to carry Jared's scars, to show the world how he'd won a fertile so obviously superior to all the others.

Jared was still pacing around, down the river from him, and Jensen moved forward, calling softly, ready to try again.

He wanted to court Jared, if Jared would have him. He would perform every trick he knew, to woo the fertile, and hoped that Jared's judgment would be favorable.

If he was rejected, Jensen would accept it and crawl away with his tail between his legs.

-----

Jared saw the large cat come out of the brush, and a part of his brain said Jensen, before it said him.

This was the dominant that he'd been so attuned to, the one he'd been thinking of in the fever dreams of his heat, rubbing himself against any patch of ground or tree, leaving his scent as he passed. He could remember Jensen, and he remembered kindness, even if the words that Jensen had spoken, once, no longer made sense to him -- a string of useless sounds, conveying everything except touch and heat and the body. Ideas and concepts and useless things that didn't even have enough weight to be air.

Things that were no good to Jared, right now.

But the dominant creeping towards him on the river bank, he could be of use. Him, with his big body and his dense muscles. Claws long and wicked, fangs made for scoring and wrenching meat.

Jared hissed and growled, angry that the other cat was taking so long to get to him, and angry that the other cat wouldn't go away, both at the same time. Jensen kept making that quiet kitten noise, confusing Jared and quieting the violence in him as Jensen approached, and Jared watched him warily, suspending judgment. Then he felt the dominant come into contact with him, nose brushing fur, and that fury returned. Jared instantly lifted a paw, cuffing Jensen on the side of his head before stalking away, thinking the dominant was lucky that Jared hadn't used his claws.

The shame was becoming quieter, more distant.

This dominant wanted him. It was clear in the way that Jensen moved, in the way he smelled.

It was different.

It was new.

He could still feel the shame, oily and sick, but it was being overpowered now, and Jared had a choice -- to cling to his horror, his abject hatred of his body, his belief that everything in him was wrong; or to let it go, just a little bit, and give into the demands his body was making. Let the dominant court him.

Let Jensen show Jared how beautiful and desirable he really was.

Jared stopped his pacing when the dominant came close again. He looked over at Jensen and curled his lips back, hissing. Jensen stopped, taking the message, and backed away. Jared growled to himself, stalking over to the forest, cursing the stupid animal that wasn't doing it right. He settled down at the treeline and waited, eyes expectant.

Jensen watched him, watching him like Jared was the only thing important in the world, and instead of all of that doubt, instead of all of that shame that had been plaguing him for three day, Jared thought Exactly as it should be. Exactly how he should watch me.

For awhile, Jensen just waited at a safe distance, and Jared got bored waiting. He began to bathe himself, settling in. He still felt the burn inside of him, skin still tight, but that feeling of being nowhere, being in the wrong place was gone. He was calmer, just a little, watching the dominant pace and twitch, trying to figure Jared out.

It took awhile for the dominant to move away, and at first Jared thought Jensen was giving up. Already? One rebuff and he gave in? How disappointing. Jared frowned, but perked up, wondering what was going on, when he saw Jensen wading into the river. The other cat was moving through the water, and Jared's ears were upright, trying to figure out what he was doing. For a long time, there was only the eternal chuckle of the river, water moving ever onwards, and the forest was still with night around him. Jared began to get bored again, minutes passing by into more minutes, and he raked his claws through the soil, stretching his jaws into a yawn.

What was that stupid dominant doing all the way over there? He wasn't even looking at Jared. What was so special about the river?

There was a sudden sound of water exploding, splashing everywhere and Jared's attention focused again, watching Jensen flopping around in the water and sending droplets flying. One of Jared's ears twitched, dislodging a bug, but he quirked his head, curiosity piqued.

A moment later, Jensen finally emerged from the water, pausing to shake himself, something dark in his jaws. Once he stilled, the larger cat made his way over, slowing only on the approach, but Jared didn't growl, too interested in what it was that Jensen had there. The dominant walked up carefully, then shyly deposited a fish between Jared's front paws. Jensen backed away several steps and lay down, watching Jared expectantly. He glanced at the fish, then at Jared, then at the fish again, his ears flicked down.

Jared looked Jensen over, making sure he was going to stay there and not move, then leaned down to sniff at the fish. Jared hadn't eaten much in the last few days, since he'd left the pride. Upset, in heat, and not a very good hunter to begin with, he'd ended up just snacking on carrion when he could find it, so having a whole, fresh fish put right in front of him made his stomach growl suddenly and his pupils dilate. He tucked in readily, jaws snatching the fish up and fangs ripping the flesh away, chewing only perfunctorily before swallowing. Most of the bones were small enough that Jared just swallowed them whole, but he had to dig his teeth into the fish's spine to rip bits off, and at the end he ate the head, crunching the skull into pieces in his jaws.

The whole thing didn't take but two minutes, Jared eagerly licking his chops, feeling the grease of the fish pleasantly on his lips, and his stomach stopped its cramping. He couldn't help it, beginning to purr as he cleaned the left over oil and water from his front paws, licking his knuckle and using it to clean his face of any left over scales.

It was only when he was done that he glanced up and saw that Jensen was still sitting there waiting, an eager look of hope on his face.

It hadn't been a large fish... But well, it had been reasonably sized, he supposed. And he had been hungry.

He continued to bathe himself for awhile, letting the dominant wait and squirm for awhile, before lazily picking himself up and stretching. He leaned his forepaws out, pressing his shoulders down, then doing the same with his hindlegs, before leisurely making his way over. He pretended like he didn't know that Jensen was watching his every move, casually strolling up beside him. Then Jared let himself fwump over, his back pressing up against the dominant's side. Jensen let out a huff of surprise, but didn't move away.

For awhile, Jared just lay there, letting his tail flick occasionally, the dominant's body heat pleasant, even if he did smell like the river. Eventually, Jensen turned his head to groom Jared, rough tongue combing through his fur, and Jared allowed it, laying motionless while the dominant moved his head back and forth. At one point, Jensen hit a ticklish spot, and Jared rolled on to his back, batting playfully at Jensen while the dominant attempted to continue his grooming. Jensen gave in after several thumps to the head and grumbled, rolling a little to the side and nipping at Jared's paws. The two of them opened their jaws and lunged at each other playfully, never actually biting, teeth clicking against each other as their heads knocked, sparring.

Jared remained on his back, Jensen sprawled over him, the both of them growling absently, letting out little snarls as they shoved at each other. Jared felt himself growing bored again, hunger leaping back up in him, different from the growling of his stomach, and Jensen smelled good. He was too stupid to know how to do it right, but he was there and big, and he brought Jared a fish and he smelled nice. That was enough, Jared supposed, to make up for being stupid.

Jensen licked the underside of Jared's neck, the fertile tilting his head back to allow it, purring quietly as he felt the dominant's weight settle over him. The licking continued, up around Jared's jaw, and Jared rolled to his side and over onto his stomach, gathering his paws under himself slowly, Jensen following him as Jared rolled away slightly. The dominant was purring, licking Jared's face, cleaning where tears had dried in his fur, up behind his ears, then the back of his neck. Jared lowered his head a little, feeling pleased as Jensen's rough tongue ran up the back of his neck, over and over, pushing the fur in the wrong direction and even that felt good.

Then he felt Jensen's teeth seize his ruff, and a thrill ran up Jared's spine.

He straightened his back out, and opened his mouth, not knowing why he was doing it but suddenly crying out, loud calls like the ones he'd made before. His hindlegs shifted back and forth, angling his hips up, but he just kept moving his feet, feeling jittery. Jensen was purring, the sound loud but hard to hear over Jared's yowling. Jared could feel it, though, feel that rumble in Jensen's chest as the larger cat angled himself over Jared.

Jared yelled louder as Jensen's great weight moved to press down over him, covering his back, and Jared instinctively flicked his tail to the side, his yowls turning into chittering, briefly, curling his lips. Jensen's jaws were still holding onto the scruff of his neck, holding him in place, though Jared never got the impression he couldn't break free if he wanted. The thing was, he didn't want to break free. He pressed his hips up more, and finally felt Jensen's body settle in over and around and behind him.

When he felt that first jab, Jensen pushing into him, he started caterwauling again, singing his pleasure at finding a mate out to the forest, not ashamed if every bird and insect and sleeping creature heard him. His body was invaded, and it made him feel warm and good, made him angle up more and try to push back. Once Jensen had seated himself he began to move in little jerks, the pace slow, and Jared's eyes were mostly shut, concentrating on nothing at all, his body well and fully in charge, just calling out, over and over again, the vibrations of Jensen's purr so deep that he could feel it in his chest.

After a while he felt his mate release his scruff, turning his head up to chorus with Jared, their voices mismatched and discordant -- perfect and beautiful together. Jared could hear their screams echoing over the river and off the mountainsides, could feel the blood pumping quick and harsh in his veins, the heat in him not dissipating but rising higher, ever higher, until he felt like he was boiling.

He heard Jensen groan and felt the dominant push hard into him one last time. Jensen paused, Jared waiting, waiting for something, and then, unexpectedly, Jensen's entire body yanked back and away, ripping himself back out of Jared. The pain was intense and orgasmic and Jared yowled, feeling something hook and drag inside of him, body shuddering with release and anger. He whirled immediately, using claws this time when he cuffed Jensen's head, leaving four thin red lines on the dominant's cheek. Jensen didn't retaliate, just slunk back, and Jared stalked away, enraged and sore. He paced the bank, finally sitting to turn his head around, sniffing at his aching entrance. There was no blood or damage, but it felt like their should be. He gave the dominant a dirty look and stomped off again.

He ignored all of Jensen's attempts to garner favor, hissing and lashing out when the dominant came close, and Jared eventually climbed up a tree to get some rest. He was aware that the dominant was at the base of the trunk, watching him, but Jared didn't care. Jensen could just wait.

Jared napped for a couple of hours, his tail swinging back and forth below him, dangling over the edge of the branch. He dreamed a little, but his dreams were just a collection of random images, colors and heat swirling together, forged in fire and twisting. Flames that licked at fingers, eager and desirous. Jared twitched, dreaming of stretching his legs, dreaming of running, all those cramped and sore muscles lengthening and ceasing their complaints. The fire that had been calmed, for a few minutes, was being stoked and was growing again, crawling up the walls and asking, wanting, demanding. Not done yet, it seemed to murmur.

When he woke up again it was with that nagging feeling again, shifting the skin on his shoulders. The heat left for awhile, in the wake of their coupling, and it wasn't as bad now as it had been before, but it was making itself known. Letting Jared know that his job wasn't finished yet. He glanced down and saw Jensen still waiting, curled up now, and Jared looked him over consideringly.

Jensen seemed to know how to make the ache stop.

Jared waited anyways, letting the heady feeling in him grow, letting it bolster itself, and he growled to himself discontentedly. He tried to rub against the branch, but he didn't have enough room to do that and keep his balance at the same time, so he finally got up, descending the trunk unevenly. Jensen had roused himself at the noise, coming over to sniff, and Jared rebuffed him again, smacking the dominant before walking away to the river's edge to drink some water, tongue lapping out to gather the quenching liquid into his burning throat.

At first, he considered descending into the river, trying to cool himself off like that, swim and roll around and see if the annoying sensation of being in the wrong place would go away. But it so rarely did, and Jensen was there, and he could take it away. Jared glanced over at the dominant, taking in his appearance and state. Jared could see where the little bit of blood that he'd spilled had matted in Jensen's fur, and he remembered how good it had felt to let the other cat clamor up on his back. The pain of the quick withdrawal was swiftly fading in Jared's mind, fading into the haze of want, and the memories of pleasure were becoming more and more clear. Even so, Jared let the dominant wait a little longer, let him wallow in that anxiety a little longer, content to watch Jensen pace and worry, before Jared deigned to go to him, licking those wounds, Jensen immediately leaning in to rub their heads together.

It didn't take as long to get to the mating, this time. They bathed and rubbed against each other, until the wave built and crested, and Jared found himself getting down on the ground again, pressing his hips up insistently, and Jensen crawling up on Jared's back again.

They mated four times in total, during the night. Each bout ended with Jensen earning himself a new set of scrapes and marks, ending with Jared yowling and mad, and each time it started with Jensen supplicating, Jared weighing him up and eventually finding him not wanting. The last two times were almost back to back, Jared more used to the feeling of Jensen yanking out of him, the hook and drag of him inside of Jared's body, bringing him to painful completion every time, the sensation bad and good all at once.

By the time the sun was peeking over the heads of the trees, Jared was tired -- exhausted -- and the achy pull of his body was finally fading, washing away in the wake of his release. His entrance felt sore and tightened shut, and Jensen wouldn't be getting back in him again that night.

When the sky was washed pale blue, Jared swayed unevenly back to where he'd been making his bed before, over against the tree line, shuffling around and pressing his feet out to push the brush back. He rolled down onto his side, growling in errant lazy pleasure and rubbing himself against the grass. He shut his eyes.

A few minutes later, he heard a rhythmic slick and drag, the sound of paws on stone.

He opened one eye.

Jensen stood there, a few feet back, waiting for permission to approach. Jared just stared at him for a long moment, and then grumbled and shut his eye, shifting his body back a little bit to make room. He heard Jensen pad over, the crinkle of grass as he stepped onto the bed. There was a wuff of air as the large body came to rest against Jared's. There was a little shuffling, the two of them adjusting until their bodies were comfortable, pressed up against each other.

Jared was tired, bone tired. He felt like he'd been running for miles, to only just now find respite. He burrowed into the feel of the grass below him, breathing deep the scent. His eyes were closed, but he could see the light beyond his eyelids, growing slowly as the day came into its own. The needy pain was gone, releasing him from its hold and replacing itself with a more comfortable ache -- one that was real and physical, something he could feel and not just something ephemeral and ungraspable, a living creature inside him that he hadn't known how to please. That awful nowhere feeling, that tug of wrong and bad, the feeling like he was doing wrong by keeping himself at a distance, keeping himself empty, was gone, giving him back to himself. With that weight gone, feeling it lift and leave, he let out a great long breath.

He was certain that he could sleep forever.

Chapter Text

The birds were singing. A neverending, overlapping chorus of tweeting and chirping, shrill and melodic sounds drifted over the thin valley cut by the river, some nearer while others were a distant background. It was the first thing that Jared became aware of.

He opened his eyes slowly, too lazy and comfortable to wake swiftly.

He knew where he was. And who he was with.

He was in his human form, skin naked and bare to the humid summer air, with Jensen's arm flung over his waist, body crowded up against Jared's back, nose buried in Jared's wild hair, messy and long from two years without a cut. Jensen was warm and firm, his breath steady with sleep against Jared's neck, stirring his hair to tickle every time he exhaled, making Jared smile a little.

He remembered what happened last night, and there were going to be consequences. It wasn't going to be a matter of sweeping it under the rug, and dealing with those consequences wasn't going to be easy. He hadn't dealt with anything in two years. He just ran.

But he didn't want to run, not now, and he knew not later. He was tired, and the pain and ache of heat was gone, his body blissed out and peaceful. At rest. He just wanted to enjoy it, relax into the sensation of having no demands upon him, and a lover pressed up against his back.

They would deal with the rest later.

He shut his eyes, and went back to sleep.

-----

When he woke up again, it was warmer, well into midday, and Jensen was kissing the edge of his jaw.

Jared scrunched up his nose, coming around to consciousness reluctantly, lapping out with his dry tongue and trying to stretch all the locked tight muscles of his mouth.

"Water?" he murmured, opening his eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder at the other man, and Jensen nodded, getting up. Jared watched the other ailure scrounge around the forest, eventually locating what he seemed to be looking for -- a large, relatively stiff looking leaf. While Jensen made his way down to the river, Jared sat up(with a wince) and took stock of things.

The first was that his entrance was sore and the muscle swollen tight shut. It was a completely biologically pre-meditated thing: the violence of the withdrawal, and the scrape of Jensen's cock on his insides having the added benefit of making sure that nothing was getting in, or out, of Jared for the next twenty four hours. He was basically stuck marinating in Jensen's seed.

Jared decided that if they ever did this again, it was going to be as humans, because barbed penis was not cool.

Then Jared realized he was contemplating doing this again.

He huffed, collapsing back to the forest floor on his back, not willing to poke too deep at that yet. He liked Jensen, and, to be honest, he'd been wanting something more than friendship with the guy before the heat came on, so it wasn't that. He'd never really expected his first time to be as a damned cat. Then again, he'd never known that for him, no humans would ever be able to do it for him. It was a strange thought, something that he'd just never realized, despite everything else he knew about himself. No human could give him what he was looking for. He'd never met anyone he'd liked before, been attracted to before, but he would have liked to think that it had been because of how he felt about them as people, not their biology.

And he didn't like the idea of only liking Jensen for his biology, too.

"Here," the alpha announced, returning. He was carrying the leaf carefully, water dripping over the sides a little. Jared sat up on his elbows, and Jensen lowered himself, pressing the leaf to Jared's lips and letting him drink. It was sweet, cool relief on his hot, acrid mouth. The leaf wasn't stiff enough to be an adequate vessel, and a good portion of the water ended up running down his neck and chest, but he didn't care. When it was gone, he flopped back down with a long sigh.

"You good?" Jensen asked, obviously prepared to make a second trip.

"Yeah, I'm good," Jared replied, staring up at the canopy of the trees, leaves casting shadows over his face, errant spots of light dancing on his skin. Jensen settled back down on their impromptu bed, leaning back against a tree, knees propped up. Jared couldn't help but laugh a little to himself, no shamed or awkwardness in the alpha's position -- his legs casually parted and totally okay with letting it all hang out there.

Not that Jared was really trying to cover up, laying on his back, legs sprawled out below him, one slightly elevated.

"So," Jensen started. "About last night..."

"Lotta things about last night..." Jared replied, and it was true. He knew, conceptually, there was more than just a few things to be discussed, but he couldn't help but just enjoy the feelings coursing through his body -- the endorphins and hormones set up to tell him You did good and You did just what you were supposed to. That feeling of being fulfilled.

He winced.

"I'm pregnant, aren't I?" He turned his head towards the other ailure.

"Probably," Jensen replied, looking like he knew it wasn't the right answer. "Are your... Do you still feel the heat? Any of the symptoms?"

"No." Jared shook his head, relieved to be free of it, but he also knew exactly why his body had shut up and gone quiet. Jensen didn't reply, but he didn't have to. Jared knew what that silence meant: You are 1000% pregnant, buddy.

He let out a shaky breath, one hand resting on his sternum, and he let it roam slightly lower, over his abdominals, down, down, towards his lower belly... But he stopped before it got there, rolling quickly over onto his side, back to Jensen, trying to keep his breathing under control.

Jesus.

He couldn't go to a clinic. He'd be laughed out of a Planned Parenthood, no matter how much he had a uterus. He wasn't even sure if he would want an abortion, when it came down to it, way too far away from weighing up the pros and cons, but the fact that the option wasn't even on the table, that he didn't have a say -- that's what got to him. He didn't get to make the choice. Story of his fucking life.

"Jared..."

"It's okay," he said, grit out. "I'm okay, I just...need a minute."

It was a lot to deal with, but he could already tell he wasn't going to freak out. Scared as he was, young as he was, knocked up as he was, he wasn't going to freak out. He could feel the edges of that panic, but it was still too much for his body to even attempt dealing with. And, at the end of the day, Jensen had come to get him.

"...what happens now?" he asked, finally, when he felt he could talk without his voice shaking.

"I would...very much like for you to return to pride ground with me."

He heard Jensen crawling over, felt the grass shift as the alpha settled in next to him, reaching out to put a hand on his back.

Jared took an unsteady breath.

"I..."

"You're Tristan's mother, and you're my--...There's many things I would like for you to be. You are a part of us, our family -- I don't mean just Tristan and I. I mean our pride. You have a place amongst us, if you want it."

Jared's eyes winced shut.

Family.

The chance to have that feeling again, of having somewhere to call home that wasn't an empty, cheap tent bought in a moment of panic. Somewhere with people who wanted him, people who seemed to understand him better than himself.

The memories of loss, burned into his mind, came back unbidden, and his fingers curled in reflex. He'd never had someone to talk to about it before. He'd never had anybody that would actually understand what had happened.

"...the first time," he started, staring across the forest at the mess of brambles and vines, life growing wild and uncontained, growing from the fertility of the river. Like the life just beginning somewhere inside of Jared. "The first time I went into heat-- I had just turned seventeen."

He felt Jensen settle in behind him, felt skin against skin, chest close to Jared's back but still only touching at certain points. Close, but not crowding him.

"I had no idea what was happening. No one-- I didn't know I was a fertile or any of that business. I didn't even know there were fertiles or dominants or anything like that. I mean, you must have surmised, since when I got to pride ground I had no idea what was going on. I just assumed, you know, same as everything else... There were girls and there were boys and they...did the things that girls and boys always do. Since I was a boy, I thought..."

"You thought you were a dominant," Jensen supplied.

"Not that I knew that word, or how the system worked, but yeah. I thought I was just like my brothers. I woke up one morning and I just felt...uncomfortable. I didn't know what it was, so I just went to school anyways. The next couple of days I stayed home, thinking I was sick... I felt like I had a fever, even though every time Mom took my temperature I was fine. Daniel said I was faking. I thought it was just a cold or the flu or...something. But it just kept going. I started getting dizzy every time I stood up, and I kept falling over. My skin felt like it didn't fit anymore, like I wasn't me anymore. It felt like my whole body was this foreign country I'd never visited before, and all of a sudden I didn't know the language. At first, I felt better in my cat form, and Mom'd watch TV with me on the couch and scratch my ears and I thought I was getting better. Then everything just...got worse. I don't know why it was like that. It hasn't been like that since. Every other time I've...gone into heat--" he spat the words out, disgusted by them. "--it only lasted a week, but that first time..."

"First heats are the hardest," Jensen supplied for him, kissing the back of his shoulder. "The body is changing, growing, becoming...ready, for children. It lasts longer, and is far more intense than any other heat."

Jared laughed, sickened.

"See? I didn't even know that until just now. I just thought it was my body's way of fucking with me. It went on for a month. A month, Jensen."

He heard the alpha suck in a breath, and apparently even for a first heat that was an outlier, because Jensen muttered a curse, bringing an arm around Jared's body to comfort.

"By the end... It wasn't just feeling bad. It wasn't 'just' anything. I got tunnel vision so bad that I could barely see where I was going when I could get to my feet at all. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. After six days without sleep I started...hallucinating. I kept seeing things moving around my room. Things waiting outside my window. I felt like bugs were crawling all over me. I started pulling out my fur with my teeth to stop the itching. I just...I was going crazy, Jensen. You have to understand that, okay? I wasn't--"

"Jared..." Jensen scooted closer, the two of them spooning fully, and Jared's breath hitched wetly, the first time talking about this, of ever admitting aloud what he'd done.

"My b-brother, Brandon. We were all the same age, you know? But he looked after us. He was always nicer than Daniel, and he was way more responsible. He was like the big brother, even if he wasn't older."

"A natural alpha," the other ailure supplied. Jared laughed a little, hollowly.

"Yeah, I guess..." He licked his lips, swallowing. "I always really looked up to him. I always wanted to be like him, when we were k-kids. He was really strong, and really nice, and he always looked after people...I..." He shut his eyes tightly, the scene picture perfect in his head, something that had played out a million times even when he'd tried to erase it. "He was worried about me. No one knew what was wrong, and Dr. Peters, the vet that knew what we were from when we were cubs...He'd come to look at me a bunch of times, but couldn't find anything wrong. My family was freaking out, because they couldn't take me to a regular doctor, but if it got worse, they might have to turn themselves in to get me the treatment I needed. I...god, I felt so guilty. They didn't say it like that, not where they thought I could hear. But..."

He curled up tighter, like a pill bug, trying to curl in on itself.

"Brandon was with me on the couch. I was resting in my pajamas and I had a blanket up to my shoulders. I think he was supposed to...distract me or something, while my parents made calls to people they could trust. But he was looking after me. We were watching TV. I still don't...I don't know what happened. It's not like I wanted it, you have to understand, please, I didn't want it... I just...One minute I was laying there watching some stupid infomercial and the next I had--" Jared felt bile rising in his throat, and he had to swallow it back. "--I had crawled onto his lap and I was...r-rubbing myself all over him. He freaked, of course, right away. He shoved me back and I fell on the floor and Jensen, the look on his face... Like he didn't even know what to do. Didn't even know what was happening. Like he didn't know me anymore."

He could still see Brandon's expression in his mind, painted there perfectly, shock and horror, his hand still extended, having no idea what to do because his brother had just crawled up on him and began humping him. Jared still remembered the sick wash of absolute shame running through him, sending every inch of his flesh cold, and he hadn't known what to say. What could you say to that? Sorry? I don't even remember straddling your lap?

There was nothing to say. There was no Hallmark card to apologize for accidental incestuous grinding.

"I swear to god, I never wanted him like that. I never did. Please, believe me. It wasn't...I'm not some sick--...It just--"

"Shh," Jensen murmured, pulling him back tighter, holding him, and Jared couldn't be more grateful for the embrace. "You were in your first heat... You survived a month of your whole body going crazy, rearranging itself, and the only two dominants anywhere near you were your brothers. You're not to blame. No--" he chastised when Jared went to object. "You're not. You weren't in control of yourself. It wasn't you."

"I know. I know that!" Jared slammed his fist down on the ground. "It was this stupid body! It's taken everything from me! Everything I wanted, everything I had! I--" He choked up. "That night I got all the money I'd save up out of my closet. I hitchhiked into town and I...I went to the Walmart to buy some supplies, and then I got the cheapest bus ticket out of there. I couldn't face them again. I couldn't look Brandon in the eyes again. I just wish...I wish I'd never been born into this body!"

He remembered feeling sick and scared, seventeen years old in the florescent lit aisles, looking at bags hanging on racks and thinking this was the stupidest thing. He was running away from home and he couldn't even pick a bag. He was going to have to decide on where to go, where to live, what to do with himself, and he was frozen in Walmart, listening to the garbled static of an unintelligible voice on the loudspeakers, staring blankly at the bags like they were some kind of un-fucking-solvable riddle.

He remembered standing there for forty five minutes, frozen in indecision, the wad of bills he'd saved up over the last few years from his allowance and from working afterschool at the park's gift store. Money from his sixteenth birthday in his bag, and he could still remember his dad pressing the check into his hand and telling him that it was for him to save, for a car of his own, knowing how hard Jared had been working to save up, proud love on his dad's face. The money that was supposed to be for his future, a gift of support and kindness from his family. Something special.

Squandered on a tent and some tins of beans at an REI in Waynesville, North Carolina.

Jared didn't know he was crying, sobbing, until Jensen's soft hushing broke through, murmured into the shell of his ear. Jared was curled up on the ground, stomach jerking and cramping with the violence of his sobs, his body racked with them. They hurt, his lungs burning and trying to pull in air around each shuddered exhalation. Jared's fingers curled in the grass, gripping it tightly as he moaned and sobbed.

It felt like they went on forever, nothing pretty or delicate about it, snot running from his nose and saliva from the corner of his mouth, his face a mess, letting out aching groans and cries with each breath.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his mom.

He wanted to have her hug him and tell him it was going to be alright and that everything was okay again. He didn't want to feel the weight of all this on his shoulders, too many decisions that he wasn't prepared yet to make, and he missed them all so badly.

He wanted to be forgiven.

-----

When Jared woke up for the third time that day, he hadn't even been aware that he'd fallen asleep.

He took a breath and opened his eyes. They felt dry and tacky, and his face felt like someone had let glue harden on it. He grumbled, wincing, and he realized what had woken him up. Jensen was running wet hands over his face, cleaning away the dried out mess.

The alpha must have wet his hands in the river, Jared realized.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, only that he'd cried until he was exhausted. He'd never cried like that in his life -- cried so hard that he actually passed out.

"You alright?" Jensen's voice was unexpected, Jared blinking slowly as those damp hands brushed over his face, thumbs rubbing his skin gently.

"...yeah, I think so," he replied, feeling out of it, his mind still trying to catch up. Thinking about home was a painful but unavoidable habit, his mind constantly running over the scene over and over again, over the last two years, trying to figure out how it'd come to that. Two years of trying to figure it all out and now he knew: nothing. There was nothing strange or odd or special about it. There was nothing to figure out. He'd been going through ailure puberty, and that was that. There was nothing he could have done to change things.

He knew, intellectually, that that should have made things better. After all, it meant that he wasn't culpable.

But it didn't make him feel better. If it wasn't his fault, then there was nothing stopping it from happening again.

He thought about last night, and wondered if it had.

He rolled away from Jensen, onto his stomach, letting out a long breath as he rested his face in his arms.

"I don't know what you need from me," Jensen spoke up, after a few minutes of silence. Jared smiled a little, unable to help feeling touched, even if he was emotionally all over the place at the moment.

"Yeah... I know what you mean. I don't know what I need from me..." He let out a long breath. "I'll be okay. I will. I just..."

"Need some time?"

"No... I've had two years. Time hasn't seemed to do shit."

"Then what?"

That was the question really. What was it that Jared needed? The answer hadn't come to him in two years of solitude, he didn't know why it'd magically appear now. The problem was too complex, too twisted, for a simple answer. He wished there was a simple answer.

"I don't know yet," he answered as honestly as he could. "Jensen..."

"I'm here."

"I know."

He shut his eyes, breathing in deep the scent of the forest. A few days downstream from here was his camp, whatever was left of it after two and a half months of abandonment. Two days upstream was the pride.

"Did you know?" he asked, finally, curious. "When you found me, last night. Did you know that I was in heat?"

It was the first time he'd called it that without stumbling.

"Yes."

"And you came anyways."

"I wanted to get to you before you moved on. I want to bring you back."

"Even after last night?"

"Especially after last night. What're you talking about, Jared?" the alpha asked, sounding baffled.

"I'm talking about me offering it up the minute a dominant got anywhere near me. I must have been putting out all those pheromones, right? When I'm like that, it's like I can't help being a giant slut--"

"Don't!" Jensen barked suddenly, but he sounded more distressed than angry. It still made Jared jump a little, not expecting the exclamation. "Please just--...don't say that."

Jared turned his head away.

"...You were no slut. You never could be. Last night you were in Urrou's spell, possessed of his spirit, as all fertile are in their cycles." A hand touched his back suddenly, making Jared's chest swell with a breath, and the hand moved up and down Jared's spine, and even he had to admit that it was soothing. "When you go into your heat, you touch upon the divine -- somewhere I can't follow you. Somewhere no dominant can. You become part of the world, part of everything, feeling things I will never feel." He felt Jensen slow, and felt, strangely, him hesitate.

"...are you--" Jensen started, and went quiet again. Jared frowned and rolled to his side, looking up. The alpha looked strange. Conflicted.

"Hey, what is it...?" Jared asked, brow furrowing. It occurred to him, suddenly, that he didn't like that expression on the other man's face, the disappearance of confidence.

"I...Well." Jensen sat back a bit, looking at the ground, and Jared's concern tripped up into genuine worry. He sat up.

"What's wrong? Jensen?" He reached out to him.

"I had thought--... I mean, last night. I was... I wanted to mate with you."

"Uh, Jensen, I think we mated pretty good."

"No!" Jensen shut his eyes, grimacing. "I wanted to mate with you. I thought we had--...I thought we were--" His expression became more shadowed, hurting. "Are you saying that it could have been any dominant? That it was just because I was there?"

Jared blinked. He'd never thought of it like that before. He'd thought his body dirty and whorish, desperate for any touch... but implied in that was that anyone he did accept was just a body. That any body would do, and that Jensen hadn't been there last night: just a dominant, just a cock to fill Jared's need.

He felt his stomach bottom out, hating that thought -- and hating that Jensen could see himself that way, and he reached for the alpha, wanting to erase that hurt. He touched Jensen's face, palmed the other man's cheek.

"I honestly don't know what I would have done last night, if it had been another dominant. I don't...know myself, when I'm like that, enough to say." He saw hurt flash over Jensen's expression, and hastened to add the important part. "But I do know that if I had woken up with anyone else this morning, I would have hated myself."

"...but now?"

"I..." Jared swallowed. "I wanted you before this. Before the heat. I really don't know what I would or wouldn't have done when I was like that, but I do know me, like this, the me that can think and want, and I want you. I can't tell you that I wouldn't have let someone else do...that, last night, but I can tell you that you were the one I wanted to, when I had the ability to decide."

Jensen glanced at him, not pulling away, Jared's hand still on his face. Jared took the opportunity to let himself feel, fingers gliding over the rough stubble on Jensen's jaw.

"I could have walked away, if I wanted to, Jared," the alpha spoke up, finally. "I chose to stay because I wanted to...court you. I wanted you to accept me. I suppose I thought... I don't know what I thought, exactly." He glanced down, but one hand came up to cover Jared's. "I thought there had been something between us before, that you were considering me. Given your age I probably should have left well enough alone, but I thought, if you wanted me, I should take the chance." His eyes met Jared's. "Better than missing my opportunity and regretting not trying for you."

Jared couldn't help but huff a laugh, shaking his head.

"You make it sound so..."

"So?"

"Romantic."

"It was. Is."

Jared quirked head, studying the other man's face. It was a different world, through Jensen's eyes. A world where last night wasn't just pheromones and heat, wasn't just two animals fucking on a river bank but some kind of divine dance. A world where Jared wasn't just controlled by his hormones but communing with an ancient god. A world where Jensen had courted him, and Jared hadn't let the other ailure mount his back just because he was there but because Jared had been successfully wooed.

Jared liked the world through Jensen's eyes better than his own.

And he could see how his behavior, how the way that he viewed their sex, hurt Jensen, made it into something lesser.

Jared pulled his hand back, smile fading to something more serious, resting his hands on his propped up leg.

"What is it that you want? I mean before last night. Did you want...?"

"I wanted you before last night. I meant what I said that day, back on pride ground before you ran. You are an exquisite fertile. I find myself so often...in awe of you, and the way you have survived alone. Survived the trials you've been through. You have the fortitude of a dominant, yet you are still... I know you don't like it, but you are still soft, still loving. Even before last night, I wanted to court you. I didn't think I would be successful. You are so young, and you could have any dominant you wanted, but if you would have me, I'd be yours."

It was surreal to be sitting here, hearing an alpha of an entire pride offering himself up like that. It wasn't like Jared didn't want to say yes. He did. He just didn't know if it was necessarily the best idea.

Jensen reached out, fingertips coming to rest lightly on Jared's thigh, and Jared was surprised by how familiar it felt -- nothing weird or jolting about another man's hand so intimately touching his naked skin.

"But you can say no. You can always say no. And it has no bearing on your place in the pride. I still would want you to come back with me. You deserve that, Jared."

Jared sighed, letting himself fall back to the forest floor. He watched the alpha crawl to him, leaning over him. The hand on his thigh moved up, trailing up Jared's torso and across the curve of his armpit. Jared's arms were flung haphazardly above his head, and Jensen's hand continued up the line of one arm until his fingers could twine with the other man's. Jensen gazed down at him.

"You deserve to learn where you come from. The past of our people, who you are."

"I know who I am," Jared responded, already having dealt with all the trauma of learning his lineage.

"You know what you are. There's a difference, Jared." Jensen's eyes flicked back and forth, studying him with an intensity that was a little frightening. Jared squirmed slightly.

"You want me to come back with you," Jared repeated.

"I do."

"Join your pride."

"There are other prides, if you wish to choose from them. Our people, our kind, were not meant for solitude. Alone out here... I worry for you. How it would wear on you. How it would wear on any ailure."

Jared huffed, remembering too easily the long two years of living on his own, only occasionally glimpsing another human being(a human being; he wasn't one, and never would be). Going hungry, huddling in his sleeping bag through the winter and walking for miles just to find game. But Jensen was right -- it was more than just the physical things.

He'd felt the absence of family. He'd missed his own, his parents, his brothers, but even greater, he'd missed something he hadn't known about yet, something he hadn't ever had before, even at home in Wyoming around his parent's dinner table, something he'd felt when with the Blue Ridge Pride. Belonging.

The way that eyes traveled over him with casual indifference when it came to all the things his body did. The way that, in this place, in this world, he wasn't a freak at all -- he was perfectly normal.

Even so, he still had a bitter look to him as he forced his eyes back up to Jensen.

"It's not like I have a choice."

"You have a choice."

"Yeah?"

"You have a choice."

"I'm a nineteen year old, knocked up werecat," Jared groused, expression sour as he wriggled under Jensen in token protest. "Where else am I going to go?"

"Wherever you want."

"That's easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." Jensen gazed down at him, lips firming. He shifted his weight fully onto his knees, so that he didn't have to unwind his hand from Jared's when he moved his other one down to the younger ailure's stomach. Jared sucked in a breath when Jensen's broad palm calmly cupped his lower belly -- that warm, intimate space just above his groin, the skin soft against the rough callused pads of Jensen's hand. There was no swell there, not yet, but Jensen touched him as if there was, something unspeakably tender. "It's not easy for me to say. Because I have fancied fertiles before, and felt the stirrings of affection, but nothing like this. If I hadn't been so lost, back then, when you first arrived, I would have seen you immediately for what you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it but...you are the one I want to be my mate. You are the choice I make. You carry cubs we created together, but...even if you did not, I would want you to stay. But not unless that is what you want too."

"So..." Jensen continued. "Please don't tell me it's easy for me say you that you can go. That you could leave and live with another pride, or on your own, if you really wanted. It isn't easy, but it has to be said anyways. I want you to choose me. But you don't have to. It's meaningless, if you have to."

"I could..." Jared pursed his lips, trying to think, needing to have a choice, needing to make a choice, desperate to have this moment be more than just about what he needed. "I could go to another pride?"

"You could," Jensen agreed without flinching. There was no attempt to sway him. No attempt to goad. Jared needed that, now. To have some kind of power, some kind of direction and know that it was him steering the boat.

The decision still didn't take long, though.

"I...I want to come back with you," he answered, catching the quick flash spark of elation in Jensen's eyes. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"You don't have to be." Jensen lifted their joined hands, pressing his lips tight to Jared's knuckles.

"But...I don't know about the 'mates' thing. Not yet. I need...time. I know they're your kids and all, and that's a big deal with what happened to Tristan's littermates but--"

"They exist within you. They are yours. I'm a catalyst, but you...you are the fertile. You are the one that carries the gift, and if you give me the chance to be a father, I'll take it, gladly... But it's yours to give. Never mine to take."

Jared's eyes widened a little at that, at the lack of hesitancy on Jensen's face. He didn't say it with reluctance or pleading, or insincerity. It was no attempt to manipulate. The children were Jared's, unless he decided to share them with Jensen. And Jensen wouldn't push or pursue.

For a moment, Jared was so unspeakably grateful that he had to just breath, feeling, for the first time in years, as if he had some kind of control in his life, some control over his body. He couldn't say he was ready for this, or that he was completely sold on the fact that he was pregnant, but for once his body was his own, no liens or demands upon it, and there was no one looking at him in disgust or shame, or like there was something wrong with him.

He had a lot of choices to make, but Jensen had given him time, and that was the only gift that Jared had asked for.

"Can we rest for awhile longer?" he asked, finally, when he found his voice again. He could feel the intensity of Jensen's gaze -- the full force of that promise of safety, an alpha looking out for him.

"For as long as you need," Jensen replied.

Chapter Text

The day was spent in a twilight haze, Jared exhausted from the punishment of his heat and panic, and he was more than willing to let himself rest. The thought occurred to him that it was most likely the pregnancy, as well: his body settling in for the long haul, all his hormones telling him that this was his time to rest and to eat and do little else.

"How long will it last?" Jared asked around dusk, after he'd been awake for a little while.

"Hmm?" Jensen asked blearily, and Jared smiled slightly at the confused and sleep addled tone.

"The pregnancy... Is it the same as a humans?"

"No," Jensen replied, coughing to clear his throat and sitting up a little as he woke from his nap. "You won't have just one child, like humans do. You will have a litter -- somewhere between two and eight cubs, usually."

Jared held his breath for a moment and prayed for anything lower than eight. He couldn't deal with being a parent to eight children at nineteen.

"And how long? Until I give birth, I mean."

"Five months."

Jared hissed, having been going on the assumption that he had nine months to get ready for this. Five months seemed so short, so trivial. He glanced down at his stomach. Somewhere in there, in some impossible organ, there were children growing. Reportedly.

"Y'alright?" Jensen slurred, amusingly different from his usual crisp and formal speech, and Jared smiled a little as he felt the older ailure kissing over Jared's bicep from behind. Jared rolled over towards Jensen, ending up on his back, looking up at the alpha.

"I'm alright. Just...internalizing." The light was fading, but Jared could still make out Jensen's face, the faint glow of reflected light on the retina's of his suitor's eyes. "Do we kiss?" he asked.

"What?"

"Ailure. Do we kiss?" He hadn't specifically noticed Misha and Julie kissing, and Jensen obviously knew how to kiss his skin, but he didn't know if mouth against mouth was something their people(Jared's people) did.

"Yes," Jensen smiled softly. "We kiss."

He leaned down, leaned over Jared, and Jared let his eyes drift shut. Jensen's lips were soft and unsurprising, just a gentle pressure against Jared's own. It was strange to think that, after several bouts of hard sex, this was their first kiss. Jared didn't move to pull Jensen in, just let himself rest against the ground, let Jensen spoil him, because the other ailure seemed to like it that way.

Jared wasn't really displeased with it, either.

They lazed about in their nest, talking a little, or dozing, or just moving against each other and touching, Jared enjoying the intimacy of having someone this close, someone whose attention was focused solely on him. It was heady, after so long without companionship, to have Jensen doling out affections on his skin, hands drifting after it seemed like Jared would be open to that. Tomorrow would come, and with it there would be stress and worry and decisions, and Jared knew he couldn't avoid that. It was the toll of living with other creatures, of being part of community, and he was more than ready to pay that price again.

But for tonight he put it off, let his brain turn off and just enjoying the experience of finding his first lover.

The alpha's tongue was soon in Jared's mouth, searching, touching, and Jared fought back for a bit, trying for that control that his human upbringing told him to have. Jensen let him have it, let him lead, but the kiss wasn't as hot, wasn't as pleasing, and behind closed eyelids Jared rolled his eyes at his own nature. He gave in with a moan, laying back against the grass and letting Jensen plunder. It was better, unspeakably good, when the dominant's hands were on him, gentle but in charge, and Jared admitted, quietly and to himself, that liking that was okay.

So he liked when his partner took the lead. Fine. That was something people could like.

He brought his arms up around Jensen, holding on to the alpha while they made out, held him while Jensen dipped lower, kissed Jared's neck, teeth a well used part of their language, some of the kisses turning to bites, and Jared couldn't deny that his body heard everything that Jensen's was saying and loved every word. It would never be like this with a human. A human wouldn't know how to talk to his instincts, how to hit every button and, without saying a thing, tell him everything he needed to hear.

There was an animal inside of Jared, but, he realized, there was an animal inside of Jensen, too.

And that animal, even though he was more experienced than Jared, needed some tips.

"Ow, no," Jared protested when he felt Jensen's fingers at his entrance. "That is a big, bright red, sore, no."

"But..." Jensen looked pathetically confused, brow furrowed.

"No! Hooked penis! In my butt! Like...five times." He held up one hand, all his fingers splayed out to indicate 'five', just to get the concept through.

"Four," Jensen muttered miserably.

Jared gave him the 'do you want to get laid?' look.

"But then how are we to mate?" Jensen asked, his voice pathetically helpless, and Jared almost laughed at the sound of it.

"Dude, you just..." He grabbed for Jensen's hand, leading it straight to Jared's erection. Jensen grasped it loosely at first, glancing down at it, then up at Jared.

"Oh," he said, blinking as if a hand job was a revolutionary concept, and Jared almost gaped at him, because 'hello? did he not masturbate?,' when Jensen continued. "I hadn't thought to please a fertile this way... Does it feel good?"

"It's the same as yours."

"Well...that is just simply not the case. Physiologically."

"Less 50 cent words, more jerking me off."

It turned out that Jensen actually did know what he was doing and the concept of jerking off wasn't at all foreign to him -- just foreign to him on a fertile. If they were going to continue this thing, Jared was definitely going to have to disabuse him of that notion. Fertile or not, he fully intended on getting blow jobs.

Jared was a little more fumbly on the return. While he definitely knew his way around his own dick, he didn't have any sexual experience with partners. What he lacked in expertise, though, he tried to make up for in interest, learning his way around Jensen's body and touching whatever he could, exploring. He wanted to know what felt good, what tickled the right way and what tickled the wrong way, and everything in between. He was an off road, curious kind of guy, and that extended to sex, it appeared, even when Jensen was giving him 'what are you doing?!' kind of looks. Still, he gave himself props when he brought Jensen off with his lips and tongue, the dominant moaning despite his previous sputtering, Jared pulling his mouth away when he felt Jensen tense and come, jerking the older ailure through his orgasm, because Jared wasn't quite ready to make up his mind when it came to spit versus swallow.

Jensen collapsed back against the grass, breathing hard and sweaty, and Jared sat up, unable to keep from smiling at his handiwork. Jensen tugged him in, tugged him close, and Jared went willingly, not really ashamed to say he wanted the cuddling.

"You...are a very strange fertile," Jensen admitted, and Jared laughed into the older man's neck.

-----

Jensen felt a bone deep contentment waking up with Jared.

He'd taken partners before, of course. One could have sex without entering a mateship, after all. He'd had the occasional lover, throughout his life -- two fertiles that seemed serious, for a time, and, back when he was young and new to the beta, another dominant -- but this was the first time he felt the stirrings of something more.

He'd been honest when he'd asked Jared for a mateship, but if he hadn't been certain that that was what he wanted before, he knew it when he woke up for the second time with the fertile. He loved the feel of Jared's skin pressed to his own, and the knowledge that he was allowed to touch it. He let his fingers trip lightly over that bare flesh, and he shifted, getting to his knees to sniff down Jared's body. Warmth and sleepiness, the scents of a body at rest, and Jensen was comforted by that knowledge. Down at Jared's hips, Jensen couldn't smell his heat anymore, a sign that their coupling had found root inside of Jared. It made a little part of Jensen eager, but he wouldn't demand anything of Jared. It wasn't his place.

"Man, are you sniffing me...?" Jared mumbled sleepily, with a voice that suggested it was far too early for Jensen to be doing anything, and half sat up on his elbows. Jensen considered his answers, his head level with the side of Jared's hip. There wasn't really any other explanation, and apparently sniffing was on the 'things that Jared finds weird' list. Jensen found himself making the lists in his head, finding out through trial and error what the human-raised ailure thought were and weren't odd.

"...yes?" he answered, hoping this wasn't a bad weird thing, and thankfully Jared just huffed a laugh and dropped back down. Jensen smiled.

Jared reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over some of the reddened scabs on the line of Jensen's jaw, where Jared had marked him up. There were others -- a set on either shoulder, and one set on his waist.

"God, I really... I can't believe I did that. I'm sorry," Jared murmured with true regret in his voice. Jensen didn't know why. They were badges of honor. The sign of a dominant who'd wooed and won a strong and righteous fertile.

"Mating scars." Jensen smiled widely, jerking his chin up, feeling chuffed with himself for having earned them. "I will wear them with pride."

Jared stared at him for a moment, blinking uncomprehendingly, then shook his head with a quiet laugh. They were both ailure, but they came from different worlds in many ways.

Last night, in particular, had been interesting. In all his sexual encounters with fertiles, there was only really one method of coupling -- only one thing the fertile really wanted, and Jensen had sure as hell wanted it too -- to be inside of them, rocking together. They'd never asked for him to do anything else, and even when Jensen had partnered with Nicki, their sex had been a frantic fight to see who would penetrate who. Of course he knew how to bring himself to orgasm, and was used to the feeling of his own hand, but he'd never considered doing the same thing for a male fertile. But Jared had seemed to enjoy it -- something that Jensen would certainly remember, for future encounters.

And then there was how Jared had used his mouth on Jensen. Not to clean, as Jensen was used to, after sex, but to arouse and bring to fruition. It had been perplexing, but he'd definitely liked it. He looked forward to more sex with his strange human-ailure, to learn all the things that Jared thought of as normal.

They eventually stirred themselves to get up, to leave their private bower, nothing to pack or get together, just each other.

"Are you ready?" Jensen asked, still not wanting to push Jared too hard. He was aware how fragile his fertile's psyche was.

"Yeah," Jared replied, taking a deep breath and facing upstream. Both of his hands came to rest over his abdomen, and Jensen didn't think that Jared was doing it consciously. Jensen softened slightly at the sight, at the knowledge that Jared was sheltering their cubs in his body.

"Wait," Jared broke Jensen's brief spell, and the alpha looked up at him. "Is it... Can I shift? If that safe? I mean, crap, I already shifted to human, does that...?"

"They're fine," Jensen replied, taking a step closer, reaching out to put one hand on the fertile's forearm. "Your shifting won't hurt them. Or you."

Jared nodded, glancing down at himself and then slowly lowering his hands.

"You'll be alright..." Jensen comforted, stepping in closer and pulling Jared into a kiss, his hand moving up to cup the boy's cheek. Jared leaned into it willingly, and that return of affection still made Jensen's chest tighten. He was more than prepared to perform for Jared, to prove to the fertile again and again that he could be a good mate. The idea of them as a family, him and his mate and their children, Tristan most assuredly one of Jared's as well, gave him the fortitude to pass any test Jared put in front of him.

But, in the end, the fertile didn't even ask for that. Nothing extravagant or elaborate. All he'd asked for was time. So sweet and so humble.

Time was something that Jensen would willingly and easily give, wanting Jared to make up his mind truly and without duress. Jensen only worried about keeping a cap on his own overeager enthusiasm, too easily misinterpreted as pressure. He had to remember that his chosen fertile was still just becoming an adult himself. Jared needed that room to grow.

They shifted their forms, and Jensen admired the way the sun shone on Jared's silvery coat, his stripes standing out in stark contrast. Jensen, a cougar, seemed plain in comparison. Even cougar dominants didn't have much in the way of striping, and it amused Jensen that he was courting a fertile more decorated than himself, when the opposite was the norm.

The walk back took longer than the run out, simply because of the pace. There was no need to push themselves, and Jensen didn't want Jared to exert himself. He could tell the fertile was still thinking over his decision, his past, all the things that tied together. Sometimes Jensen feared that Jared was rethinking things, perhaps considering going back to his solitude, or taking Jensen up on his offer to find him another pride, but despite the consternated expression he frequently wore, Jared never asked for either of those things. He was simply deep in thought.

At night they would bed down together, after Jensen had found them somewhere safe and comfortable, and it was enjoyable to groom each other before settling in. Jensen hadn't slept curled with another ailure in a long time, and he realized just how much he missed it when Jared pressed his head in against Jensen's chest, purring as Jensen's tongue moved over his coat. Jensen felt fulfilled when he lay his head over Jared's neck and shut his eyes, knowing it was his job to protect this one life, to watch after and defend it. It had been his job to do the same for his pride, for the last eight years, but this felt different. Like a sacred duty, something whispered in his ears by the gods, a young, Dawnbringer fertile given to him, and the will to die before he'd see any harm come to that sacred beast.

When they got back, and Jared was settled, Jensen would have to tell him about the Hyl'maithen, about the origin of his people and what he meant to the world, but he would wait until Jared was comfortable. Until he had a space to deal with information like that.

It took them four days to get back to pride ground. They'd been gone for just over a week, and Jensen knew the others, Misha especially, would be worried. Jensen was also eager to see his son, to comfort him and show him that he'd brought his mother home. But as eager as he was to get back, when they emerged from the treeline, he realized he was also a little sad to leave that time behind -- just him and Jared and the forest.

But only a little.

-----

When Jared woke up the morning of the last stretch, knowing he would be back on pride ground before midday, he felt a little apprehensive. Not of his decision. He was actually pretty firm on that count.

But he was ashamed of how he'd acted. How he'd spoken to Misha, what he'd said to Tristan... At the time he'd been so panicked he could barely see straight, let alone evaluate his words before they came running out of his mouth like a train wreck in progress. But now, calmer and coming back with his tail between his legs(a little bit literally), he was embarrassed, and more than a little worried about what people would think of him. It wasn't as if he'd been quiet, that day.

He paused when they came to the treeline, and Jared could see the familiar stretch of pride ground in front of him through the dark lines of the trunks, tail twitching slightly.

Jensen came up beside him, head turning to look at him.

'What is it?'

'What if they hate me?' Jared asked after a moment's pause, uncertainty painting his voice.

'They won't hate you.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Because you are family. We can be mad at each other, we can fight, we can even not want to see each other for awhile...but we could never hate each other.'

Jared turned his head to look at Jensen, at his alpha, he supposed. There was no doubt in the other cat's expression. Jensen left no room to doubt, and Jared was suddenly grateful for that -- that he could so wholeheartedly depend on the older ailure's strength. He leaned in quickly, butting his head up under Jensen's, drawing on that strength, feeling Jensen rub their heads together.

He was scared, but he wasn't going to run away again.

With Jensen next to him, he walked out onto pride ground, as steady as he could manage.

The day was in full swing, ailure moving back and forth across the open area, involved in their chores and activities, though several did stop to run up and greet the alpha, the pride not used to him being gone for so long. Jensen had to stop to see to them, to greet them in return, though he sent Jared a little worried glance. Jared shook his head, understanding that the dominant needed to attend to his pride, and Jared was okay.

There was no danger of him high-tailing it out of there, this time.

He became less and less certain of that as he approached Misha's cabin.

He didn't know for certain if this was where Tristan would be, but he could only assume. It was his first order of business, before anything else. He needed to find his cub.

His son.

He swallowed hard when he saw the familiar bundles of fluff outside the cabin, Julie and Misha's kids. He saw that Misha was lounging over by a tree trunk, the dominant in his huge auburn cat form, and he stood up the minute he saw Jared. Jared was too busy to greet him however, instead trying to count the cubs, trying to see if Tristan was among their number, but they just kept leaping and running, passing each other and tumbling around and Jared kept losing count. His eyes flicked from one to the other, trying again, his mouth going dry and beginning to feel the doubt sink in deeper, tendrils becoming stronger, heart beating faster with worry when he heard a loud, squeaky call, and his eyes centered immediately on the dappled coat of a cub staring straight at him.

'Tristan...' Jared started, throat tight. He wondered what he'd have to do, what he should say or how he should start, what he had to do to fix this, his mind running through the million options he'd gone through that morning, or the other five million during the last few days, unable to get this off of his mind. But none of them came to pass. As soon as Jared said his name, Tristan was running through the leaves to him, and Jared collapsed to the ground to pull the kitten in between his front paws.

Tristan immediately snuggled into the fur of Jared's crest, purring heartily, as if nothing had happened, as if Jared had never yelled. Instantly forgiven, or the event already forgotten and in the past, Tristan was just happy to see his mom again, and Jared wanted to cry. Instead he rubbed and butted his head against the wriggling cub, bathing him haphazardly. Their movements were hurried and a little desperate, Tristan's paws thumping against Jared's nose, as Jared playfully growled and snatched those paws in his mouth before proceeding to lick them.

Jared pulled his forelegs in, holding Tristan against his body and feeling something tight in his chest, shutting his eyes against it as he pressed his head down against his son's, nuzzling against him.

He'd never expected to be received like this, forgiven as if nothing had ever happened.

There was the crinkle of leaves as Misha padded slowly over, and Jared heard his voice gently speak.

'I'm glad you came back,' the captain murmured, full of warmth and welcome, nothing like hate.

'Yeah...' Jared replied, his eyes closed as Tristan pressed up under his chin. He let out a shaky breath, feeling that tightness in his chest break and relief spill through him, unchecked. 'Me too.'

Chapter Text

The clearing hadn't changed much, since he'd last been there.

The trees were still lush with green, branches arched overhead to create a ceiling, and the ground below was still covered in broken up leaves and twigs from last year's fall, whatever hadn't yet decayed. The damp soil was pushing up grass here and there, and the trunks of the trees were growing green moss in patches, a cacophony of breathing flora. The fire pit was mostly obscured now, though there was still the blackened indent in the earth to indicate that it had once been there, and the stones that circled the edge were only partially hidden by the grass. Not too far away was the constant white noise of the river, a welcome cool breeze flowing off of it and cutting through the hot, late August air.

Nothing much had changed at all, since Jared had left, three months ago, nothing but him, and now it seemed so strange and unfamiliar. He recognized each little part, recognized every tree that had once been part of his walls and recognized the pattern in which the sunlight fell, known from days of staring at nothing else, with no companionship or distraction -- but that recognition felt only fleeting. Even after two years of living there, the clearing felt like a childhood memory recalled only in a dream, while pride ground seemed so much more real and vibrant.

A place where life happened, in comparison to the unliving stasis of the clearing.

"You alright?" Jensen asked, Jared's eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He could hear Lucius and Brigitte, the two betas who'd come with them, making their way around the edge of the former campsite, standing guard as if something was going to come and disturb them at mid afternoon in the middle of nowhere.

Jared moved his hand over his stomach, not swollen, but he could feel the bump beginning to form, just a slight slope that hadn't been there before. The first signs of his early pregnancy.

"Yeah," he replied, and looked at his alpha. "You?"

Jensen nodded, not smiling, exactly, but an expression of peace on his face. He'd found the picnic basket that Jared had pulled out of the river, all those weeks ago, found it where Jared had left it when he'd abandoned his camp, and Jensen was holding it in one hand, and a small trowel in his other.

"You sure?" Jared pressed, reaching out to touch Jensen's wrist.

"I'm sure, sweet one," Jensen replied, the corner of his lips edging up in encouragement, his penchant for ridiculous nicknames not fading no matter how many times Jared told him to stop. The younger ailure had been forced to just accept it.

It wasn't too hard.

It had been four weeks since Jared had run away in panic, fearing his heat and his body. Three weeks since Jensen had brought him back to pride ground and Jared had accepted that he was Tristan's mother, and no one else would ever be. Two weeks since he'd moved into the attic of the main house with Jensen, the two of them sleeping with Tristan nuzzled into to some space between them.

One week since Jensen had asked him to come with him, back to this place, the site of Jared's two year punishment, his two year purgatory, to stand beside Jensen while he dug up the bodies of his children, to bring them back to the pride and lay them to rest with the bodies of their people.

Four weeks of change, and Jared's first month of pregnancy well underway. His life seemed so different now, from what it had been. Looking at the clearing, he couldn't believe it had only been five months since he'd pulled that basket out of the river and found his son, tiny and dying, and held him in his hands, nursing life back into him. Five months since everything had changed.

He squeezed Jensen's hand and then let him go, watching the alpha move across the clearing to the largest tree on its edge, where Jared had dug five small graves for five still bodies, and Jared moved to stand behind his dominant, there to watch and to support. Jensen knelt down slowly, his movements steady, as if walking on eggshells, and he set the basket to the side. With reverent hands he cleared the ground cover away, revealing the bumps in the earth, and the five sticks that Jared had used as grave markers.

"...there is a land," Jensen began, his voice taking on that gentle, educational tone as he looked down at the markers and the grave below them. "Called Ansaul'inlan. It means 'The land where the sun never sets.'" He wet his lips, his voice soft and low, and Jared wanted to touch him, but didn't. This was a time for Jensen alone. "It is the place where the gods dwell and where we go, when we come to the end of our days. When we leave our heavy bodies behind on the earth, as free and as light as the wind. It is the sky, above the clouds, and the First Pride run over them as if they were hard packed dirt, and the sun is always bright and warm. It is never cold, never dark there, and the spirits of the ailure who've passed before us are waiting to see us again."

Jensen lifted up his trowel and started on the first grave. He gently scooped the soil away, removing the grave marker and slowly uncovering the bones. Five months in the earth had left little else, skin and muscle long gone, and Jensen was careful, sifting through the soil to find every tiny joint, every little piece of skeleton, placing them in the basket.

"When we die we must never be buried or covered. So long as we are, our spirits are tied to our bones, and Saul'hrao cannot find us. We must be left out in the elements, exposed to the sun. When Saul'hrao's great eye finds us, he will send one of his betas down from the sky and bring us back to the First Pride."

Jared's gaze softened, watching Jensen speak as he gently dug up his children.

Jared had learned more about his people in the last three months than he had in his whole life. Humans knew next to nothing about the ailure, and Jensen had admitted that was mainly the fault of the cats for being so secretive. In school, Jared had been given a passing education, and he remembered he'd listened so much harder after he'd learned what he and his brothers were, going to libraries and trying to sort truth from fiction, but there was only so much they could gather. In three months, Jared felt like he'd taken on a lifetime, listening to Jensen or Misha or Jeff wax poetic about their people, their myths, their past and their heritage. It was a world that Jared knew was his, knew belonged to him, or that he belonged to; either way. But it was hard, trying to see the world as something other than a human. Trying to see himself as something other than a human.

But he had time, and plenty of good teachers.

On the third grave, Jensen's hands began to shake and he stopped, taking a deep breath and just sitting there, silent and still for a long minute, before continuing. Jared didn't move forward to touch or disrupt him.

This was something Jensen had asked for. He needed to do this. For himself, for his children, and for Cosette, who was waiting back at pride ground for them, to lower the lost cubs into the Pale Gulch, to lie in the sun with their ancestors. Waiting to say a final goodbye.

Jensen stayed quiet for awhile, his breath uneven, but when he opened the fourth grave, his hands were steadier, and his voice was soft, like a lullaby, easing, like a trance.

"They did no wrong, performed no evil. I want to take them home, and bring them back into the light, where they always should have been, so that they can join the First Pride in the sky. So that I can see them again and apologize to them when Saul'hrao and his beta bring me home."

"You did the best you could," Jared interrupted quietly, even though he knew he should stay quiet. In the throws of first love, it was hard for Jared to keep silent or to ever leave Jensen in pain. He'd never expected to meet someone like the alpha, not out here, and sure, they'd gotten off to a bad start, but Jared was grateful he'd stuck in there. Feeling the tug in his chest, the hot burn whenever Jensen pulled him in, running hands over him, or the lazy warmth of waking up with another body wrapped around him, Jared could be nothing but grateful.

"I did...the only thing I thought I could," Jensen replied, uneasily. "I was lost, reeling, and I acted without thought, believing that if I could get rid of them then I would never have to face them. Saul'hrao will forgive me; I know that now. But I still need to ask it of them." He picked up the fourth body, ribcage so small and delicate in the palm of Jensen's hand, and he laid his other hand over it tenderly, holding it with such great love. "I still need them to know that I'm sorry, and that I will always love them."

Jared could only half see Jensen's face, but he knew the expression by heart: regret and love, the power of responsibility and the crush of feeling he'd failed it. The look of a father, and Jensen would be an amazing and devoted one, Jared knew. The boy put his hand over his own stomach, feeling the warmth of his hand permeate his skin. Sinking down, he imagined, to the tiny children within him. Sinking down to where Jensen had placed them.

He didn't know if he'd ever find the words to describe how he felt about his pregnancy. God knew he'd tried enough times, fumbling through awkward sentences to Jensen in the privacy of their room, face turned away so he could pretend he was speaking only to the darkness. And even then the words had been imprecise and imperfect, strange and lumpy in his mouth.

He still remembered the first morning he'd noticed the slight change in his body, waking up and stretching before letting a hand lower to scratch his stomach, finding it odd and different than how he was used to. He knew it hadn't changed overnight, that the change had been gradual, but it hadn't felt that way at the time. It had felt sudden and surprising, and he was only a little bit ashamed to admit he'd freaked out for about an hour, sitting on their mess of blankets with his face in his hands.

There were children inside of him. Little cubs just beginning to grow who, if everything went right, would be like Tristan one day, active, inventive, annoying, wonderful balls of fluff moving in every direction, doing their best to drive him nuts.

Jared couldn't describe the way that excited and terrified him, because he already knew he'd love them more than he could articulate. And he already knew he wanted them to be Jensen's.

He'd known it almost immediately after Jensen had told him that it was his decision, but even three weeks later, he had kept that decision to himself. He didn't want to be cruel, and he hoped that Jensen knew that. It was just that he needed that piece of control.

When he was walking back onto pride ground after his heat and he was searching out Tristan for forgiveness, Jared had needed that control. When he was moving in with Jensen and settling into his new life with the pride, he had needed that control. When he was feeling his body shift and alter itself to accommodate children, changes brought on by Jensen's potency, he needed that little voice that said It's okay, your body is yours and belongs to no one else.

That feeling of control had been like a security blanket, and he hadn't been quite ready to give it up, in the face of all that was changing.

Jensen had never pressured him or frowned at him or given Jared any reason to think that Jensen expected anything. Jared kept thinking it would happen, that Jensen's patience would run out and he'd reveal that his offer had only been skin deep, because he'd expected Jared to immediately give in.

When Jared, worried, had talked to Jeff about it, needing advise, the older beta had simply shook his head.

'Our people don't think like that,' he'd said. 'No one can claim your body but you. No one can take it from you. You can give parts of yourself to others -- your heart, your children -- and that takes incredible trust, but no one can take it. Jensen's place as father is a gift from you to him, and it is meaningless if taken. He would never blame you for choosing to keep your body as your own.'

That freedom had startled Jared.

And as startled at he was, he hadn't realized, at first, how much he'd needed it.

He'd never imagined himself pregnant, and hadn't even known for certain that he could get pregnant, before he'd come to the Blue Ridge Pride -- though he'd had his suspicions. Actually being pregnant, however, and knowing that in five months new lives would be coming out of his body was something quite different. And even then, he'd realized that wasn't the strangest part.

He already saw himself as a parent to Tristan, after all. Being a parent to other children wasn't that big of a stretch. Imagining himself fecund, though, his stomach rounded and full, imagining himself actually feeling the movements of whole other living creatures inside of him, had been a head trip. Imagining himself in that role he'd always thought of as purely feminine, and accepting that all those traits were inside him, part of him, and not wrong, was something he was still overcoming.

He was dealing with it, though. One day at a time.

And the fact that Jensen had given him space and time and had never tried to pressure him had made that possible.

Looking down at his alpha on his knees, Jared felt warmth and love, standing here, in this clearing, and knowing he would never have to be alone again.

There was someone in this world who was willing to deal with his bullshit.

And it was just the icing on the cake that Jared was prepared to deal with Jensen in return.

The dominant was unearthing the last cub, pulling the dirt away, his fingers so loving, filled with that tenderness of fatherhood, even just touching bones.

"I was ashamed," Jensen's voice came through again after a long period of silence, only just breaking over the steady rush of the river. "I was ashamed of having lost, when I'd never lost before. But what I should have been ashamed of was making their deaths about myself. In my shame I tried to hide them. Bury them. So that I wouldn't have to see them or confront what I'd almost had. What I wanted. But..." He pulled the last set of bones out, fingers carefully sifting through the dirt, and his voice filled with a greater strength, a determination. "But I am a better father than that. A better man. And it's time they were brought home."

Jared stepped forward, even if he'd promised to let Jensen do this. He couldn't just watch the other ailure alone in this. Not when Jensen had kept Jared from being alone.

His hand fell to Jensen's shoulder, fingers soft over the dominant's shirt.

"You are a good man. I believe in that."

Jensen sagged under his touch, going still, and for a moment Jared thought he'd said the wrong thing. Then Jensen looked up over his shoulder at him, and he smiled.

"Even after all we have been through to get here, the both of us, I can't help but be grateful to have found you," the alpha said, something like gratitude in his voice, and Jared flushed.

Jensen lay the last body in the basket, looking down at them, a collection of pale bones and dirt, the last remains of five lives that had never come to be. He paused, sitting there, and then slowly closed the lid, latching it shut. He let out a shaky breath.

"You're doing the right thing." Jared squeezed his shoulder, and Jensen didn't reply, but he lifted his hand, smudged with grave dirt, and covered the one on his shoulder.

Jared believed that Jensen could fight through this. There was nothing he'd ever seen his alpha admit defeat to, and if Jensen lagged, if he grew weak, then that was what Jared was there for. He wasn't afraid of bearing his mate's weight.

Jared smiled a little to himself at the thought.

The words stayed on his lips as they got up and dusted off, as Jensen went to talk to Lucius and Brigitte and tell them they were leaving soon, as Jensen helped him go through the rest of his things, packing up the two bags they'd brought with them from pride ground. Jared felt the words grow in him, warm and living, like the cubs he was carrying, but he didn't push it. He felt no pressure, no force against him, and he embraced that. Life coming easy for once, and Jared ready to let himself do things in his own time.

He'd tell Jensen when they got home, when they were in their room and their bed and Jensen's hands were on his body, he would lean close and whisper in the alpha's ear that they were mates. When it was night and dark and they were alone, just them and four walls and nothing between them. That was when Jared would let him know.

But for now, he just let the words take their shape, let himself hold them possessively close and feel the warmth of that secret in his chest.

For now, at least, he had something else to say.

"Jensen." Jared's hand went out, clasping Jensen's wrist and bringing the alpha to a halt as they were leaving the clearing. The dominant stopped and half turned, looking over his shoulder curiously, eye raised in question.

"What is it? Did you forget something?"

"No. Maybe. I mean..." He swallowed. "They're yours. I want them to be yours."

Jensen just looked confused and Jared couldn't help but laugh, not meanly, but at just how much Jensen had endeared himself to Jared, as obtuse as he could be sometimes. Jared stepped closer, and he brought Jensen's hand to his belly, over his shirt. He could feel his dominant's hand pressed against his skin, separated only by cloth.

"These are your children."

Jensen's expression changed only slowly, muscles shifting and going slack with gentle realization, and his gaze drifted downwards, along Jared's torso, to where Jared was holding his hand captive. Jensen's hand smoothed out and firmed, pressing in tighter, as if he could commune with his unborn children even now.

Jensen's voice was thick, husky and muted with too much emotion to name.

"...thank you," was all he said, just leaving his hand there, the other holding the handle of the basket, connected to his past but touching his future. Not replacements, never replacements, but merely a promise of better things to come. Hope.

Jared felt himself sway with the wind as it blew through the forest, the two of them just standing there, frozen for a minute, before Jensen managed to move his hand, though by the regret in the alpha's eyes, Jared knew that hand would be spending a lot of time against his belly, in the month's to come. He didn't mind.

He looked forward to it, even.

"Are you ready?" Jensen asked, offering his hand, and Jared paused, turning back to look at the clearing, empty now of every sign of habitation, tent packed up and gone, supplies put away, even the fire pit kicked and disturbed until it just looked like an indentation in the forest floor.

It looked as though no one had ever lived there before. Just a small opening in the forest and nothing more.

It had never been his clearing, just a place that he'd hidden for awhile. A shelter.

"Let's go home," he replied, and reaching for Jensen's outstretched hand.

And the forest asked for nothing in return for what it had given.