Vigo had endured the ceremony of the Kitwana'antara, allowing blood and saliva to mix. He had felt a drab sense of morbidity as he'd watched these things done to him, well aware of the disease that was now exposed to his bloodstream. At the time he almost fancied he could feel it like fire, warming his veins and circulating it's promise of death through his body. To be fair, he'd been quite depressed at the time, and willing to embrace even this death sentence, if it allowed him to somehow make up for the wrongs he felt stacked so high against his soul.
Now, looking back, his frame of mind had been terribly melodramatic. Yes, his body has been exposed to the contagion, but it hardly had been a death sentence. He'd learned much since that time. For one, just because one was a carrier or even considered diseased, it did not mean that the disease itself would be the death of them. Quite a few died of natural causes rather than the sickness. Carriers had the disease, but suffered only a little. Astonishingly, Vigo had turned out to be neither of these. After a couple months, he'd run across a large grey male. That had been an interesting encounter, as the other male had claimed to be able to tell him if he would die of the disease. The answer had turned out to be no, he did not die sick. After another month, he was declared one of the few immune lions.
That was when he'd learned that some of those who were immune provided a very special service to the sickened pride. Something unique and only possible for those wholly free of disease. Though he already served as a warrior, Vigo knew that this side-job was one he must take. He would provide new, strong blood to the pride by siring cubs. The old Vigo would have delighted in this opportunity... a valid reason to fling with random pretty girls! The new Vigo, however, took this duty very solemnly. To himself, he vowed never to lie or temporize in order to fulfill this new duty. Honesty, respect, truthfulness, and openness was the only way for him to be able to both do this and feel he was not sliding into old habits.
How easy would it be to slip into his previous ways, wooing and sweet-talking females, then sticking around to 'help' with cubs before claiming rights to some of them. Granted, it wouldn't have been too very much like the old days, but enough that he was concerned. No, better to put the ladies first, to be straight-forward about it and not beat around the bush. It hadn't occurred to him just yet that even those who might not mind giving up their cubs might not trust that he himself was disease-free, but at the moment that was a moot point.
This was his first foray out into the roguelands since joining the pride, and it was such an odd sensation. Like returning to a familiar place you once called home, only to see the faces of strangers turn your way. The wind felt different. The grasses whispered on a different pitch. The sun seemed brighter, and the nights darker. He was aware it was all in his own mind, but that didn't keep his skin from prickling the first few days outside the borders.
Now on his fifth day out, Vigo finally sighted someone on the horizon. Since his purpose out here was to actually meet and speak with others, he altered his course to approach whomever it was. As it turned out, it was a lanky cheetah, strapped with a couple packs close against his sides. Ah, a trader then. Worth a stop to talk with, or so the black and brown male decided.
Kulin, for his part, watched the leisurely approach of the lion with wariness. This could go one of two ways. Either this could be a potential customer, or this was one of those who would attempt to rob him. He had encountered both aplenty in these parts, and he was more inclined to wariness than open welcome. Though a trader, Kulin was not exactly the most effusive of individuals. He was in the world to trade, make a profit... not to gab and joke.
So it was that though he waited for the lion, he did not sit comfortably, nor did he unstrap his packs. Instead he stood balanced on all four small paws, fixed claws flexing into the soil beneath him for maximum traction, should he need to flee suddenly. Much to his relief, though, he could see no reason to launch into a sprint just yet. The lion stopped a polite distance away, too far to be a threat but near enough to talk.
"Greetings, merchant," Vigo said, settling himself onto his belly to minimize his threat. He, of course, had no intention of attacking or otherwise intimidating the male cheetah, and he did not blame the slender feline for his expression of wariness. It was good for someone with valuables to be on guard. Vigo found himself approving of the wisdom of this trader's conduct, and was amused to reflect that he himself had changed his own thinking since joining the pride. He now thought in terms of strategy, defense, and preparedness. Mittere had been a good teacher, if rather harsh. He'd learned much, clearly.
Kulin relaxed minutely. "Greetings, stranger," he replied, shifting slightly without letting his guard down. "What brings you to Kulin the trader?" Business or there was no point in him staying to talk. Kulin did not trade on information, ever. Rumors, gossip, and pridal intelligence was not his cup of rainwater. He waited expectantly, poised to stay or go depending on the lion's answer.
Vigo paused for thought. He hadn't really been considering doing any sort of business with the cheetah, but now that he was presented with the limited and apparently precious time of the merchant, he stopped to rethink. He really would like to talk a bit more with the rogue, but was it worth a trade? What could he offer in return, and what did this merchant trade in? "May I see your wares?" he asked politely, blinking orange eyes ruminatively. A niggling idea was forming, but it all depended on what was offered.
Kulin broke into a wide, if shallow, smile. "Of course, my friend," he answered with a sing-song voice of a born merchant. "I have many things of great beauty, for Kulin only trades in lovely things." He tugged the packs off, took a moment to select choice items that represented his stock well, and laid them out on the grass before Vigo. He was very pleased to see the lion's eyes widen with appreciation. Ah yes, that was the sort of reaction he strove for! Now if only he could work something out with this wanderer. "What is it you seek? Does anything catch your eye?" His tone was wheedling, but not over-the-top oily. He'd met a few traders who had overdone their pitches, and became known for dishonesty.
Vigo was indeed impressed. Laid before him were many different things, but each of them attractive and a feast for the eyes. Two long scraps of fabric of stunning colors fluttered beneath three or four rocks that had broken open to reveal a gem-like interior. Beside them, glittering in the grass, were strings and knots of gold or silver wire. Some held stones, others were bare of further ornamentation. A wooden bowl, it's beauty a treasure all its own, held a goodly number of beads of all sorts, mixed together into a colorful jumble. Another tied bundle had feathers of exotic colors and shapes, as well as tails of unrecognizable creatures and smaller bits of fabric.
That was when the idea came into full bloom. As a token of his esteem and thankfulness, he would carry some of these lovely things with him, to offer to those ladies who agreed to help his pride out. It would be but a paltry thanks for the time and hassle of pregnancy, much less that of giving up one or more of their offspring, but it would at least be a start. Nodding to himself, he mentally picked out things, calculated what he was willing to do, and made an offer. Counter-offers rocketed back and forth before a deal was struck, and Vigo found himself that much closer to the very real possibility of making up for his mistakes in the world. To give, to offer of not only the beautiful things but of oneself... surely these would at least be a start to achieving a balance between wrongs done and good done. Vigo could only hope.
Kulin was well pleased by the deal they struck, but it was the curious look on the lion's face he was likely to remember. It was almost as if by trading these things to him, the cheetah had given him... hope? Something akin to that. It was most curious, but he was not the sort to truly care enough to inquire or press for details. The lion's business was his own, and as long as Kulin profited by the transaction, the merchant did not care what motivation his customers had. Both ends were satisfied, which made today very good day indeed.
