"Excuse me?"
"Why do you let them pick on you? Why do you let them beat you up like that? You are not a thrall."
Skansom had to admit, he'd never been approached by a female like this before. She was not of old blood, but he recognized her nonetheless. Dalla's thrall, as it were. He snorted loudly, nursing his paw. Kjar had been particularly ruthless today.
"Because I don't like to fight."
The lioness snorted. He shot her a look. She smiled.
"I am Badoura."
"I know of you. You are Dalla's thrall."
"I am."
"She is not a terrible female."
"She is a graceful lioness, and she is very good to me."
Badoura hummed softly and briefly rooted around nearby. She'd found the male huddled up against a large log while she was searching for supplies for her mistress - she hadn't been expecting to find a lion, let alone a wounded one. She recognized him well enough - he was constantly being abused by other, larger males in the pride. It was sad, really, as far as Badoura was concerned.
"Ah ha," she whispered triumphantly, ripping a small plant from the earth. "Chew on the root. It will numb the pain. You really should see a healer - that gash looks quite painful."
Skansom grunted and shoved the root in his mouth, the grit of dirt and sand coating his tongue and crunching between his teeth as he bit down on the root.
"How do you know so much about plants? Healing?"
Badoura shrugged.
"When you wander alone for so long, these things come in rather handy. In truth, I am glad Reaver Gaved captured me that day. I realize now how weary I'd grown of wandering on my own. It was terrifying at first, but." She shrugged. "I suppose I am lucky to have been gifted to such a sweet lioness. As I've said, she treats me well and I am looked after, a den of my own and I am well-fed and .. well. As respected as a thrall can be. I am given leave to wander as I like so long as I remain within the boundaries of the pride and so long as I return home with goods that mistress Dalla might use in her craft."
Skansom grunted again and gnashed his teeth against the bitter-tasting root. The flavor of the thing coated his tongue with a waxy consistency, but he had to admit the pain was lessening.
"You never wish to challenge her for your freedom? After all, it is the Breytast Vindar - and so if you wished, you might earn your proper freedom."
"No."
Skansom paused. "No?"
"No. I am content."
He gave her a queer look. "Content? A content thrall? I have to admit," he shifted the root in his mouth, "I've never heard of such a thing."
Badoura laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps you are only versed in having your own hide beaten - it's sad, you know? You remind me of another lion I've met - a thrall."
Skansom grunted a third time, loudly.
"He, too, has nothing but unhappiness in his life. I think he will try to gain his freedom this Breytast Vindar. It would be good for him, I think. It would make his brother proud - and his father too. It seems that their family grows larger each day that passes." Badoura chuckled.
Skansom gave her another queer look. She seemed entirely too happy. He'd never heard a thrall laugh as much as this one did. It was unsettling that a thrall found more happiness in his pride than he did. The pale lion grumbled and spat out the root before running his teeth along his tongue.
"So why do you let them pick on you?"
"I don't let them pick on me, yeah? It's just kind of ... always been that way. A lot of these lions I grew up with, and they'd always pick on me, and now that we're grown they still do. I don't like fighting, so I'm weaker than they. I'm just a freeborn with no aspirations to become a Reaver or even something like a Lawspeaker. I just.. want to live my life the best I can, you know? It's not a noble existence or even a honorable one - but it's my life and I just want to be left alone."
Badoura was silent for a long time, pulling jagged bits of grass free from the ground before tossing the liberated blades to the side.
"Why don't you leave?"
"I could, I guess. But this is my home. It's the only place I know."
"That's sad."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you say that?"
"That it's sad?"
"Yes."
"Because it is. I think it's sad."
Skansom grunted a fourth time before he lowered his head to clean the dried blood from his paw.
"It's sad because you seem to be so nice. You know? I mean.. I know it's probably a weakness here - in this pride - but in the outside world you might find some way to be happy."
She had a point - but this was home. This pride and its traditions, he was a part of that.
"I'm happy here."
Badoura gave a loud, very unladylike snort.
"What? I am."
"You don't need to lie to me. I'm not going to tell anyone."
"I'm not lying. I am happy here. I just.. I don't know. This is my home."
Badoura smiled at Skansom before she gave a shake of her head.
"Well, if you are going to be around - would you mind parting with your name?"
Skansom grunted again.
"I am Skansom."
"It's been nice talking to you, Skansom. Please," she rose to her feet, "see a healer about that wound. If you'd rather not, I could prepare a tincture for you so long as I have my mistress' permission. I am sure she would not mind too terribly."
Another grunt. Badoura laughed.
"I suppose I will see you again, Skansom. Please, take care."
He didn't reply. Badoura hadn't expected him to - without another word she gathered the small stones she'd collected in a turtle shell and made her way back home.
Skansom watched her leave, his thoughts whirling. A short time later he made his way back home, with a heavy heart and restless thoughts.
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