Leaving his home and family had been very difficult for Txuratan, but his cubs had grown up and his wife, well. She had been growing increasingly distant from him ever since the cubs were born, and instead of nurturing their cubs together it has often felt as if Txur was raising them alone. He understood, of course, that Petra had many duties as adviser to Eytucan's adopted heir, but he had never expected that they would grow apart as they had. Petra had not even come to see him off when he left the pride, claiming that he felt the need to seek his mother. None of his family had come to see him off, actually. It had basically broken the priest's heart to realize that he was alone but for the love of Mother Eywa, which he knew he would be able to feel no matter where he was.
He had not really given much thought to which direction he would travel after he left the Iknimaya, and so he kept walking straight in the direction he had been facing when he left the jungles of home. Thus he crossed several unusual climes. Most of them he found uncomfortably hot and dry after a lifetime under the dense foliage and shading canopies of home. The desert had probably been the worst, forcing him to turn around and retrace his steps after a day of walking did not produce an obvious end to the sizzling sands. It had been a relief to find himself in more humid climes once more, although the temperature was definitely dropping as he took himself to the east, and the terrain was rising, although it was by no means mountainous, which was a shame. Txur was curious about mountains, he found.
Each day Txur made time to pray and connect with Eywa, despite the distance. It brought him peace and consolation in his loneliness. Regardless of the circumstances of his departure from home, he still loved his mate and their family, and being away from them was sometimes a physical pain. Meditating with his eyes closed and his sense attuned to the earth and Eywa helped.
It also made him a fantastic target for any lion who might be searching for an easy mark. Lions like, for instance, young Brenning, who was on his first viking and wanted more than anything to find something wonderful to bring home to his intended bride, the beautiful Lyti. She left him tongue-tied much of the time, but the chubby lion was certain that if he came to her bearing the perfect gift his words would flow naturally. He was, for a Stormborn, pretty naive.
Because it was his first viking and Bren was older than the usual neophyte reaver and out of shape besides, he had been given all the s**t jobs throughout the trip, which had so far produced unimpressive spoils but a great many s**t jobs, some of which actually did involve s**t. Bren did not know if this was part of a hazing practice or if his fellow reavers disliked him on a personal level, or if this was just the way vikings usually went. No one ever mentioned being responsible for digging holes for the band to crap and piss into, or burying the remains of a meal so that scavengers wouldn't bother the band, or any number of other unpleasant tasks that fell to Bren.
It was while he was digging a waste pit for the carcass of a warthog that Bren noticed a solitary blue lion with a glowingly white mane sitting in a strangely erect posture, seemingly ignorant of Bren's presence, despite the swearing the flame-eyed lion had been doing until he noticed the other. Bren finished digging the pit, watching the blue lion all the while, but the other lion did not stir, or give any sign that he was aware of Bren's activity, even after Bren left and returned dragging the uneaten bits of warthog with him. He kept one eye on the strangely still lion while he buried the carcass and then came to a decision: he was going to capture the blue lion and make a present of him to Lyti, and he was going to do it unaided.
Txur was not quite as unaware of Bren as the younger lion believed, but he was certainly not concerned about him. For a time the wind had carried the scent of a dead animal, so Txur knew the other lion had fed and thus had no reason to bother Txur. As a priest, Txur's awareness of his goddess was impressive, but that did not mean he could see with his eyes closed or scent things against the wind, so when the wind shifted it was very like the other lion had vanished, when in fact Bren had merely positioned himself downwind of his quarry and was moving as stealthily as his chunky body would allow.
Bren crept closer and closer until at last Txur could no longer ignore him and opened one pale eye. "Yes?"
The word was barely out of Txur's mouth when Bren launched himself through the air, claws extended, and landed on Txur with his full weight. Txur's breath left him in a whoosh and before he could begin to think about fighting back he was pressed to the ground by his bulky attacker and held down, claws digging into his otherwise unmarked hide as a threat of more violence should Txur attempt to resist.
"Peace, brother," Txur panted. "What offense have I committed against you? Let me atone for my crimes."
Bren chuckled and then growled into Txur's ear, "You have committed no offense, and there will be no atonement. You just have bad luck. Brother. I am a reaver of the Myrsky Syntynyt, the Stormborn, and you are my captive. I will make you into a thrall fit for gifting to my betrothed, if you are well-behaved. Otherwise I will kill you and bring her your pretty white mane. What do you think of that?"
Another lion in Txur's situation might have given up and welcomed death. After all, it seemed he was unloved by his family and alone in the world, and now threatened with slavery. However, suicide was anathema to Txur's people and so soon after communing with his goddess it was impossible for Txur to even consider taking an option which could be equated to suicide. He bowed his head.
"I will be your...thrall." He stumbled over the unfamiliar word and did not even attempt to repeat the strange-sounding jumble of vowels and consonants that comprised the name of his captor's pride.
His captive's compliance was a surprise to Bren, but not an unwelcome one. He stood aside and allowed the blue lion to rise, watching for an attempt at flight or retaliation, but none came. Bren nodded to himself and gave the order to follow him, then he led the way back to the band, bracing himself for the battle he expected he would have to fight to be allowed to keep the thrall he had captured.
word count: 1,188
