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The Elephant King had kept the Edge’s borders. He wasn’t certain why—or perhaps he was. Some kind of restlessness pulled him away from the Edge and his duties. He was a father (again), but these foals were growing with their mother— without their father. They were away from him and, despite the roots he had set and grown deep into the hard-packed soil of the Edge, he felt the small and foalish tug towards the Basin’s mountains. Hawezi, his second-borne but first-live son, had vanished. But he was King here, and there were those within the Edge that had imprinted in his chest. Mauja, Orithia, Adaeze… The first two had been broken and likewise found his own faults, sowing a deep connection. He had grown so close to Mauja that he had nearly killed him on his simple request.
But Adaeze… The cheetah had strength in her that gleamed on her spotted hide. A strength and justice that had knitted the gaping hole a dead child left back together. The Elephant hadn’t had such strength; he had slipped into the depths of despair, anger, and ultimately vengeance beneath such a weight. But Adaeze had quietly rebelled, resilient and silent in her suffering.
The King’s ears tilted back as his long strides paced along the border, thoughts shifting to how she had finally told him. Ever fierce, but a soft need had laced the sharp edges of his cat in the waters of the Grove. He hadn’t known, then, that he was a father to Rexanna’s children. He hadn’t known that she cared for him. And so, beneath the sharp edge of loneliness and absolute compassion for Adaeze’s loss, he had tried to give the cheetah the very thing he had allowed to be taken from her: motherhood.
And it was these clamorous, disjointed thoughts that clouded his senses; dulling them so that he did not smell the warm scent of birth or hear the grunts of labor. No, it was Mbwene’s hard and sharp yank on his tail that alerted him to his surroundings.
His black nostrils flared, brows raising as his head jerked up and eyes sharpened on the cluster of shrubs a few yards before him. He nickered deeply, warning the birthing mother of his arrival so as not to startle her— and found the very cheetah he had been thinking of as he pushed into the hidden clearing maternal instinct had pushed Ada to hide herself in. Approval flashed once in his eyes, for the Dorobian’s intuition still was strong to hide herself from danger as she gave birth. But the approval was quickly replaced with wonder as his navy eyes watched her spotted, heaving flanks contract.
The Elephant may have missed the birth of all of his previous, living children; but hew was fortunate enough to see the birth of his daughter. He watched the fluid spill out around the dark colt that already breathed life into his infant lungs; he watched the once-slender, now-swollen golden flanks dark with sweat contract; he watched the grunt and effort of the cheetah as she pushed a second child ofhis hers theirs into the word.
His ears swiveled forward, watching the spotted, slick, cream skin of the filly ripple into life. Calmly, and perhaps somewhat cautiously, he approached the new mother’s head, his own muzzle dropping and aiming to gently press against the corner of her mouth, “You are a mother twice over, kipaka.” A grin crossed his thick lips; as she was twice a mother, he was twice a father.
His great hooves then carefully moved towards the squirming forms of new life. Had they been more still, he may have forgone speaking to Ada to ensure their hearts beat and lungs breathed. But, as it was, these two, full-blooded Dorobian children were filled with life’s vigor. His grin grew wider as he approached the darkly hued son (his spots not yet showing) and saw two swirls of hair on his brow, indicating two horns to come. His warm gaze then swept to his pale daughter dusted in spots, also seeing the same swirls of two horns. Her coat was so bright in comparison to her brother’s, “Katua,” his murmur was low, the name slipping out of his lips naturally, as he slowly dipped his head to clean the afterbirth from his daughter, sharing the work of parenthood with Adaeze.
kipaka=kitten
But Adaeze… The cheetah had strength in her that gleamed on her spotted hide. A strength and justice that had knitted the gaping hole a dead child left back together. The Elephant hadn’t had such strength; he had slipped into the depths of despair, anger, and ultimately vengeance beneath such a weight. But Adaeze had quietly rebelled, resilient and silent in her suffering.
The King’s ears tilted back as his long strides paced along the border, thoughts shifting to how she had finally told him. Ever fierce, but a soft need had laced the sharp edges of his cat in the waters of the Grove. He hadn’t known, then, that he was a father to Rexanna’s children. He hadn’t known that she cared for him. And so, beneath the sharp edge of loneliness and absolute compassion for Adaeze’s loss, he had tried to give the cheetah the very thing he had allowed to be taken from her: motherhood.
And it was these clamorous, disjointed thoughts that clouded his senses; dulling them so that he did not smell the warm scent of birth or hear the grunts of labor. No, it was Mbwene’s hard and sharp yank on his tail that alerted him to his surroundings.
His black nostrils flared, brows raising as his head jerked up and eyes sharpened on the cluster of shrubs a few yards before him. He nickered deeply, warning the birthing mother of his arrival so as not to startle her— and found the very cheetah he had been thinking of as he pushed into the hidden clearing maternal instinct had pushed Ada to hide herself in. Approval flashed once in his eyes, for the Dorobian’s intuition still was strong to hide herself from danger as she gave birth. But the approval was quickly replaced with wonder as his navy eyes watched her spotted, heaving flanks contract.
The Elephant may have missed the birth of all of his previous, living children; but hew was fortunate enough to see the birth of his daughter. He watched the fluid spill out around the dark colt that already breathed life into his infant lungs; he watched the once-slender, now-swollen golden flanks dark with sweat contract; he watched the grunt and effort of the cheetah as she pushed a second child of
His ears swiveled forward, watching the spotted, slick, cream skin of the filly ripple into life. Calmly, and perhaps somewhat cautiously, he approached the new mother’s head, his own muzzle dropping and aiming to gently press against the corner of her mouth, “You are a mother twice over, kipaka.” A grin crossed his thick lips; as she was twice a mother, he was twice a father.
His great hooves then carefully moved towards the squirming forms of new life. Had they been more still, he may have forgone speaking to Ada to ensure their hearts beat and lungs breathed. But, as it was, these two, full-blooded Dorobian children were filled with life’s vigor. His grin grew wider as he approached the darkly hued son (his spots not yet showing) and saw two swirls of hair on his brow, indicating two horns to come. His warm gaze then swept to his pale daughter dusted in spots, also seeing the same swirls of two horns. Her coat was so bright in comparison to her brother’s, “Katua,” his murmur was low, the name slipping out of his lips naturally, as he slowly dipped his head to clean the afterbirth from his daughter, sharing the work of parenthood with Adaeze.
kipaka=kitten
He paid for his sins. He was saved.
But some sins haunt us no matter how much we pay.
@Adaeze
Please tag Tembovu.
