The Elephant watched the infant, marbled body scale Rexanna’s face with dextrous ease; its (his) small hands were the source of such adept climbing. Navy eyes creased as the black paws cover and stroke her pale face, a hind paw skating along the black lines. He had once been the one to trace such markings, to caress the silken skin of the siren’s face. Mbwene, swayed by the mild jealousy she felt from her bonded, looked down to her own round, flat feet. They were anything but agile. She raised her trunk in front of her, inspecting the nimble tip— but it was no match for the already skillful hands of the polecat. A brassy, grumpy snort escaped her— at least she had proper tusks.

The gilded, black creature (unknowingly) added further insult to injury as he grasped the golden chains. The Elephant’s gift to Rexanna in a happier time— a time when they had been lovers. A short, pained breath pushed out of his chest, but he reined in the feeling; instead, forcing his attention on the closeness, the warmth of her slender body beside his— close enough to touch. How long had it been since he had had her this close? It felt like lifetimes.

Black-rimmed ears twitch, at the sudden, shrill squeaks from the newborn companion. He was incredibly loud for being so young— the Elephant eyed the marbled creature for a moment. But his eyes snapped back to Rexanna’s cerulean ones as she spoke, her muzzle reaching towards him. Without flinching or hesitation, now, he reached out and met her seeking muzzle— glad to be the one touching her, rather than watching her companion do so. His muzzle met hers straight-on briefly, before slipping along the side of her lips and gently caressing the side of her maw with a soft touch of his lips.

“I want you to name him.”

“Me?” his usually deep voice rose octaves with surprise. His muzzle withdrew, brows raised in surprise as he lost her gaze to Mbwene. She wanted him to name her companion? A strange lightness buoyed in his barrel. Naming a companion was personal, intimate— a companion shared her soul. Naming it was naming part of her. It was an honor, a gift, and a duty he did not take lightly.

But, some selfish part of him rose as his mind mulled. A name from Dorobo. To leave a mark of himself on her soul, just as she had left on his. His eyes studied the marbled pattern of black and gold on the polecat that sat so comfortable as Rexanna’s crown, realizing that the newborn’s name had already come to him, “Marembo.” His voice was firm, but warm, “A strong name, but sharp enough for your nimble companion.”

He fell silent as her law tightened— he was still awaiting and answer to his question. She turned away, but in their closeness he could still watch her intently. “It’s Cal.” She was right to turn away if she did not want to see his anger, for immediately his body tensed and his teeth clenched, gaze flickering to the scar on her chest as she spoke of it.

Instinctively, as if to heal whatever pain it had caused her, his muzzle reached out to smooth over the black scar on her chest. Despite his anger and tense movements, his lips on her skin were soft and gentle, lingering for a moment before pulling away. Suddenly her gauntness, her fear, her broken gaze— it all was explained. “Rexanna, come with me,” again, the appeal that always left his lips came, “I can keep you safe in the Edge.” Forgotten, for the moment, was her son in the Basin. Forgotten was his passion with Elsa. Forgotten was the deep connection with Oritihia. Forgotten were his duties in the face of her pain and danger.

— My dear, but if I make the Pearly Gates

I’ll do my best to make a drawing of God and Lucifer,

a boy and girl,

An angel kissin’ on a sinner.