He limped away from the Edge, glad to know that the pale palomino sleuth was indeed able to defend in battle as much as she was able to watch from the shadows. But he was sore. He wasn’t sure when sparring had left him feeling more sore and less invigorated, but it had somehow morphed into that… and he knew it meant he should start training more but, as a low groaned pushed passed out his nostrils when he submerged his haunches in the Grove’s cool pond, he was becoming less and less inclined to. Elsa, in all her Icebound glory, was better trained in the ways of Helovian sparring. He had become more useful for his tongue.

He closed his eyes, dipping his head and horn in to the refreshing liquid to wash away the blood and memories of the Queen’s hurt, closed face… A sigh came out as bubbles beneath the water’s surface. It was no wonder that, after the fight, he had sought to cleanse himself outside the Edge’s borders. There was something sadly stifling within in home now. Guilt, sorrow, grief— even these now stained the pale coat of his child!

Ears laid back as he sought relief from these overwhelming emotions, slowly raising his great skull above the water. His thick hide twitched as it ran down his neck and pooled on the vast expanse of his back, the clear liquid becoming tinged with blood and dirt. His haunches faced the shore just as his eyes were closed. Perhaps not the wisest of positions, but the King was far enough away from the shore’s edge to at least know of another’s presence before they were upon him.

Dorobo had been beautiful in its own right once upon a time, but even Dorobo couldn't rival the variety of beauty that Helovia possessed. Everywhere that Ada went there was something new. The grove was her most recent discovery and she'd spet a great deal of time there wandering around. She'd never seen trees quite like the willows. Their drooping branches lent an air of mystery to the grove. She liked the peacefulness. The quiet ... it was unlike the Edge in so very many ways, except one. She could smell Tembovu. She found it surprising that she would discover his scent in a place away from the Edge, especialy after he'd basically told her that he couldn't leave because of the herd.

Ada, being the curious kitten she was, could never leave well enough alone. She slipped through the branches of the willows, searching for the general-turned-king. She had seen him bloodied from battle before, so his condition when she finally spotted him didn't phase her. She did stand for a moment watching him as he eased himself into the water and relax. It seemed safe enough to assume that he had come to the grove alone and wasn't expecting anyone to be there or find him.

It was then that the cheetah left the cover of the willows and moved toward the pool of water. Ada did not bother to hide her presence from the King as she approached. Perhaps it was foolish bravery that made her unafraid to approach him, but she stepped into the water and reached to touch her muzzle to his shuolder once she was close enough. "Y'know..." She purred in the teasing manner she always had around Tembovu. "There's very little sexier than a man fresh from a fight."

"."

ooc://
sorry its rushed, but i have to leave D:

the fine line between love and hate

“Y’know,” the purr from the banks jerked the King’s great skull around, sending droplets spraying from his face and neck, “There’s very little sexier than a man fresh from a fight.” Her purr, catching him off-guard, pulled at primal urges in the stallion’s sore muscles. Urges rooted in their history of denial, suggestive banter, her endless teasing, and his brutal foreplay. So, it was with wide eyes and a scrambling, exhausted mind that he motionlessly watched the cat saunter towards him—like a predator to prey.

But the Elephant King was no prey—or so he thought. Snapping together thick lips that had partially opened in surprise at Ada’s appearance and approach, his navy gaze flickered to the ripples her curves sent out in the cool pond. He focused on the coolness of the water, on the emotional turmoil that had flooded him just moments before; he focused on anything to maintain control over the easy, natural, lustful urges that had plagued him since the day she had broken through his murderous and enraged thoughts on the Plains.

So, gaze carefully lifting from the ripples to her luminous, yellow gaze, he nodded a greeting, “Hello Adaeze,” his deep rumble vibrated the water around his barrel, “It’s good to see you, too,” he could not help his amused reply to her greeting— and, despite his best intentions, amusement easily gave way to the beginnings of carnal craving. So, it was with darkening eyes and a wayward tongue that he said, “And if that’s true… I think there’s a wound atop my shoulder that I can’t get to,” his massive right shoulder twitched, indicating the cut which was so close to his withers that is escaped the reach of his muzzle, “Can you reach it for me?” Lazily ruby blood dribbled from the injury while navy eyes watched yellow.

Oh, but Ada knew very well what her teasing and suggestive comments and tone did to the king. She loved the game of cat and mouse and found it so incredibly hard to resist when he made it so easy for her. That he did not flunch when she spoke was unsurprising, he never did. Sometimes she felt as if he were always expecting her to pop up at inopportune moments as she always had in Dorobo.

"Hello, Adaeze."

"Tembovu." She purred against the stallion's shoulder when he spoke her name in greeting. A smile curled the corners of her zouth upward when he said it was good to see her. "Good?"" She repeated. "I could make it an absolute pleasure to see me, darling." She teased as she made to rub her scarred shoulder against Tembovu's side, furthering her little game of cat and mouse with the Edge's king.

When he mentioned a cut on his shoulder the mare lifted her head. Her golden eyes roamed the muscled expanse of his shoulder until she found the cut he spoke of near his withers. It had been a long time since she'd seen blood on Tembovu's body that was not her own. Since ... since he had helped her escape from Dorobo, she realized. That day felt like several lifetimes ago.

Rather than voice what she was thinking about right then, Ada simply dipped her muzzle into the water they stood in before moving her muzzle toward the cut. Water dripped onto it, slowly washing the blood away. That motion brought back other memories of her cleaning Jeshi's wounds after battles, and of herself cleaning the wounds that Tembovu had inflicted upon her on Dorobo's sands.

"Who did you piss off?" She questioned as she continued to wash blood away from the wound on Tembovu's shoulder.


"."

the fine line between love and hate

Her purr had every effect she intended— despite the cool water in which he was submerged. He shifted as discomfort began to grow and enlarge beneath his barrel, though only a tick in his clenched jaw was the only other outward sign he gave the cat that she was, in fact, succeeding in her game. The deep breath he took in to steady himself was a mistake because, in such close quarters with her, it only gave him a lungful of her wet skin.

He sighed shallowly, then, as her muzzle merely dribbled water onto his wound— no touch, no warmth of her muzzle. Only cold, intermittent drops. It was maddening, but he closed his eyes for a moment to clear his head. Though this was, in fact, the wrong thing to do, as it heightened the rest of his body's sensations. Navy gaze pops open and his head swiveled to watch her, thick neck deeply arching to the side as she was to see her body close to his. Heated navy eyes that struggled to cool glanced between the bloodied stream of water, her moist muzzle, and her face. His brows raise, as if to say, ‘that’s the best cleaning you can do?’ Though he doesn’t quite trust his voice to be controlled at the moment. So, instead, his lips pursed slightly.

Though her next question was easier, safer, to answer. “I was testing the skills of one our Specters, Raeden. She’d caught an intruder on our borders, and I wanted to see if she could have handled him, had I not arrived,” his rumble started hoarse but ended easily.

He paused, eyes inadvertently sweeping her body, before asking, “Tell me, what brings you to the Secret Grove, Ada?”

Ada was not ignorant to the effect that her teasing had on Tembovu. Her mother had praised her for her observational skills once upon a time in Dorobo, and it certainly came in handy when dealing with Tembovu. She noticed the way he closed his eyes, the sighs, the twitch of every muscle as he tried to control his reaction to her. It only made her little game of cat and mouse more appealing to the cheetah. Her gaze met his when he turned his head to her and raised his brow. She half expected some snappy remark at how she was only dribbling water onto his wound, but when none came she grinned. "What's wrong, Temby?" She teased. "Cat got your tongue?"

Naturally he went with the easy bit of conversation that she'd offered when she'd asked how he'd gotten so beaten up. The answer made her grin. "Seems to me like she can handle herself against you." The cat chuckled. "But she's not the only one that can handle you." Ada teased. She winked at Tembovu before turning her attention back to the wound on his shoulder.

Her muzzle hovered just over his skin, close enough that he could probably feel her breath against his flesh. She'd had every intention of finally wiping the blood away from his wound, but his question stopped her. She drew away from him to glance around the grove. She hadn't known what it was called, but Tembovu had remedied that for her and she hadn't even had to ask him. "No real reason." She admitted. She'd simply been exploring Helovia, getting to know the place that was her new home. "But I guess it was a good decision to come here. I finally have you alone." She easily slipped right back into the teasing tone that she usually had with the Elephant King. 


"."

the fine line between love and hate

“My cat’s got more than my tongue,” he growled quietly under his breath as her teases continued, not entirely intending to allow that thought to become murmured words. But, as he continued to shift and move the cold water uncomfortably over the skin between his thighs, he wasn’t entirely focusing on the whatever passed through his lips.

“But she’s not the only one that can handle you.” A lopsided smirk crossed his thick, black lips at her teasing wink, “Is that jealousy, Ada?” His voice, though husky, sounded amused at her implications and reminder that she had been the first to handle his fury in the plains. The first to stand before the raging Elephant General and shove an inconvenient truth down his throat—the man had the cheetah to thank for the vengeful justice he had brought on Dorobo.

Though the grin on his lips faded slightly as her muzzle returned to his sliced hide, her hot breath spreading across the tender skin there. And just as she was about to finally touch her velvet muzzle to him, she pulled away again. Silently, his thick jaw clenched, navy eyes slightly narrowing on her lips as she claimed victory on having him alone.

He studied her golden eyes and black-lined face for a few, long moments, finally ended his uncomfortable shifting in the cool liquid—it wasn’t helping in the proximity of her rounded haunches and slender flanks, anyhow. Gaze drifted once down her speckled neck and traced the darkened line of skin that the water left on her golden coat, before his voiced rumbled once again, but this time it was quiet and deep, “You have me alone and I’m the one wounded—so different from our past…” he paused, sweeping his gaze to her eyes as he leaned in despite their closeness, “And, now, I don’t have to send you away bruised and bloody.” The relief that sparked in both in eyes and voice was palpable.

"My cat's got more than my tongue."

"Shi ne cewa haka, masoyi?" The cat purred softly. If he knew the words she spoke she would be truly surprised and impressed, but she doubted he knew. Echo had taught her to speak his language and she'd used it in Dorobo to communicate with other Debwani. She was very doubtful that Tembovu had ever taken the time (or had the time, really) to learn, not with his whole uprising and bringing his rightful vengeance down on their corrupted leaders.

She stepped back when Tembovu accused her of jealousy. The cheetah laughed softly because the notion that she would be jealous really was laughable. "Hardly." The spotted mare retorted haughtily. "Because I know, in the end, that I can satisfy you, mchumba." Her tone lost its haughty quality as she spoke to the king. Her golden eyes traced over the scars, old and new, that littered Tembovu's hide before her gaze finally met his.

"“You have me alone and I’m the one wounded—so different from our past…”

"Not exactly..." Ada's voice trailed as she answered Tembovu. "... your wounds weren't physical, but you were still wounded." She wondered for a moment if he would realize that she was talking about the loss of his family, or if she should elaborate on her thoughts. She didn't think that Tembovu had known that she'd been there and had seen when he'd found his family's charred remains. 

“And, now, I don’t have to send you away bruised and bloody.”

"I never hated you for that." Ada murmured. "I figured that you hated yourself enough for it. I didn't need to add to it." Because she'd always noticed the look in his eyes when he'd had to send her away bruised and bloodied. For her to hate him for it would have only hurt their combined effort at ending the council. 


"."

Translation:
Shi ne cewa haka, masoyi?- is that so, darling?
mchumba - sweetheart

the fine line between love and hate

His ears sweep forward, confusion clouding the burgeoning heat that had arose in his eyes. Ada spoke the Debwani tongue? His brows furrow slightly as his mind struggled to pick out words that would make sense in Dorobian, but failed. “Kwa nini kuficha maneno yako kutoka kwangu, duma?” His deep voice questioned, wariness fracturing into his dark eyes, cooling the passion in them. He could not easily forget or sweep aside their past, so fraught with lies and trust; promises and intrigue.

But, on the heels of the Debwani language was a soft laugh and a Dorobian endearment (if haughty). “Mchumba?” his echo of her affectionate term was slightly smug and wholly amused, “When have I been your sweetling, Ada?” His great skull cocked, though he could not help the ripple of his scarred hide as he both saw and felt her golden gaze travel over his ridged and marked skin.

But, as suddenly as his wary playfulness (so easily fallen into from their past) came, it left as her next set of words reverberated deep in his chest. “Not exactly, your wounds weren’t physical, but you were still wounded.” His navy eyes blinked once, gaze sweeping back to her face, closely watching and studying the woman. She was right—painfully so. But why was she saying this? He had left her bloodied, but he had also saved her life by sending her out of Dorobo.

So weren’t they even? The words she spoke…they tread dangerously close to a ground that could easily undo all of the foundation he had built against his demons while in Helovia. A swallow, a slight clench of teeth—he watched her closely, awaiting so see where her words would lead. Did she toy with him, use her wiles and to gain power over him? He knew the dark depths revenge could send someone.

“I never hated you for that.” But her next murmur disarmed him wholly, ”I figured that you hated yourself enough for it.” “I did,” his reply was soft, low, and simple at first. He paused, still watching his cat, muzzle reaching out to gently trace the scar on her flank— a scar still stark against her golden flesh despite the time that had passed since Mawindo had marked her. “I don’t know how, but if I could have done it differently, I would have,” his thick lips moved close to her spotted skin. He did not waste time on apologies—for there were many things to apologize for, but this was not one of them. It was wasted breath, for they both knew that the marks on her skin had been a necessary means to and end of the Makutano.

But, still, even knowing that, it did not relieve the guilt and shame that boiled in his barrel and eyes when he saw the scars on her hide.

---

Kwa nini kuficha maneno yako kutoka kwangu, duma? = Why do you hide your words from me, cheetah?

It made sense that he would think she was hiding her words from him when she spoke a language that he didn't know. She'd come across a few in Dorobo who had held the same sentiments. 'They speak that language so we won't know what they're planning next.' was a popular theory that she had foolishly believed at one point when she was young and stupid. "Papa Echo taught me to speak it." She murmured. "He found me after Mawindo...." Her voice rrailed and she cleare her throat before continuing. "I had a lot of time ... a lot of healing to do so I asked him to teach me the language. It helped when I talked to the Debwani tribes to find out what I needed to know."

"Mchumba? When have I been your sweetling, Ada?"

"Mmmm, I'd say since the first time you spared my life." Ada said softly. She wanted to continue on, to giggle and joke, but she caught the way that Tembovu was looking at her since she'd mentioned his wounds. It was like he was waitiing for her to bring up his past ghosts and she wondered if he wanted her to. 

Dare she...? Dare she dredge up the memories of his dead mate and child?

Their playful banter was quickly turning into something else and she didn't know if running away from it or tackling it headfirst was the better idea.

He admitted to hating himself for what he'd had to do to her even after she'd made it clear that she didn't hate him and it saddened her. But she couldn't say that she wouldn't have done anything different. If she'd had the power then she'd have tried to save everyone. "I... would do things differently, too." she admitted after a few moments of silence. "If I could go back I would have been there ... when your family was attacked and I would have defended them so they could escape. I wouldn't have been too late." She stared down at the water that they stood in. "They didn't deserve what happened to them, especially an innocent child."

"."

the fine line between love and hate

The Elephant remained silent as Ada’s quiet purr trailed into silence when speaking of Mawindo—though a flinch rippled through his buckskin hide at the mention of “a lot of healing”. His muzzle withdrew its tracing of the scar on her flank as her soft words shifted from playful to sincere, just as his had changed moments before.

Navy eyes leave her flank, looking at the golden eyes that were more serious than he’d seen them since… since she’d screamed and spat the truth at him to make him stay his horn from driving through her gilded, spotted breast. But now they lacked the fury and venom. Now they were (almost) soft, even as he lost her gaze to the cool water that lapped at their plains-borne bodies.

“I wouldn’t have been too late.” He withdrew further, sending waves of clear liquid lapping to the willow-shrouded shores as he studied her closely. Their honesty and truth, before, had been out of necessity, stemming out of a shared cause of destroying the council. But now… there was no need for it, no clandestine meetings or enemy to overthrow.

Lines crease his eyes as she spoke candid—if painful— truths. “‘Too late’? What do you mean, kipaka?” His rumble was quiet, hushed even; as if speaking too loudly would crumble the fortifications his mind had against the whispers of ghosts they spoke about.

He watched closely, wanting to unearth the many layers of the words (the truths) they were sharing. Before it had been simple, informational facts to bring a nation to its knees. But here, in this Grove, naked emotion (no longer hidden by the fear of death) wove complex fabrics of their past that had gone unshared and unseen in the face of war.

But, now, as she spoke of an innocent child, this truth was resurfacing with a vengeance.

---

kipaka=kitten

Of course he'd ask her what she meant by 'too late', he hadn't known that she'd been there in the shadows when he had found his family. He wouldn't know that the death of his mate and child had been the turning point for her, where the flames of her suspicions had been turned into a wildfire. She could feel the growing distance between them and the absence of his bodyheat against her side made her shiver in the cool water.

"I was already investigating the Makutano before they killed your family." Ada began. "From what I could piece together about what I'd been able to gather there was going to be an attack on  the village. I ordered more soldiers there and I was on my way.... but when I got there it was already burned. No soldiers .... just bodies." Her eyes closed as her memory drifted back to thatt day. It waas one of the many nightmares she'd lived while in Dorobo.

"I was there when you found your family." Another truth came forth, but her eyes remained closed. "I didn't come out and say anything because... grief is something very personal. I didn't feel that it would be right to come out and talk to you, btu I also didn't trust you." She opened her eyes then and turned her head to look at Tembovu. "Grief often manifests in anger and I didn't want to risk dying  before I found out the truth and put it all out in the open."

She paused, watching Tembovu's face and studying his body language for any signs of anger toward her for what she revealed. "I was surprised when they sent you after me." The cheetah pressed on. "But after what you saw ... I was hopeful that I could trust you with what I had found out." And how relieved she was that she'd been correct.

"."

the fine line between love and hate

His close watch of the fleet-footed cheetah caught the shiver of her spotted skin in the cool waters as he drew away. Though his eyes did not linger long on her body—instead they swept to her face as she dredged up memories he had buried beneath the living, breathing son he now had in Helovia.

His lips pressed together, tighter and tighter as the quiet words continued to flow, his own eyes staring hard at hers even as they closed in remembrance of that fated, awful day. He had lived it enough times to know the scenes that flashed behind her closed lids, and so his own eyes remained glassy and open, staring hard as she spoke confessed.

“I was there when you found your family.” He was still, a elephantine monolith standing against the brunt of her words. His body was rigid, his mind less so; it was a warring zone of upheaval as she told him she knew. She had seen those dark, desolate moments of agony. She had watched him hold the burnt bodies, witnessed him covering their carcasses with dirt.

And he gained her eyes then—though his own gaze was undulating between the past and present, shifting from glazed to sharpened as his mind clawed to remain in the here and now. It did not want to return to those dark memories; Myrrine, with her magic, had given him the day of Faxr’s birth to remember them by. And that was the image to which his mind desperately clung.

“Enough,” his deep rumble was hoarse and quiet, but firm. His head bowed slightly, weighted beneath the tumult in his mind; a mind that begged for Ada’s silence. But still, she pressed on, saying things he already knew: she had trusted him, stupidly or wisely, to spare her life and turn on his leaders. He felt her watchful eyes on his face and body, but his own were now downcast to the rippling waters around them.

“Ada,” he began, his muzzle dropping closer to the water’s rippling surface, eyes watching their distorted reflections of gold and silver, “I have lived my life in my past. That day has haunted and shaped everything I’ve done. And I am tired—” his hoarse voice broke once, silence descending for a few moments, “—I am tired of the things it has led me to do; tired of fearing the man it has made me become. I came to Helovia to build a future, but this vengeance… after feeding it for so long on the Plains, it is a beast, a demon, that does not easily die.”

His great skull rose, eyes opening and burning into the cheetah’s golden ones, “Build a future here, Ada. Build a home, a family,” his words grew fervent, urging, “Do not chase the injustices here,” he alluded to her disappearance on the way from the Threshold, “Let our ghosts remain on the plains; stay and build the Edge with me.” His mind ached as much as his body, now—though he leaned closer to his cat as he spoke.

"Enough."

Ada watched Tembovu and listened quietly as he began to talk about the injustices that he'd faced. How he was tired of everything that had molded and shaped him into what he was now. The vengeance, the fury, anger, guilt, and a plethora of other things that she knew he had to be feeling because she'd felt them herself. She wanted to tell him to change if he hated what his vengeance had turned him into. She wanted to tell him that he got his revenge, that it was time to stop letting the anger rule his life and dictate his every moment.

Ada. Build a home, a family."

"I had a family in Dorobo, too." She said, ignoring his plea to build the Edge with him for the moment. "The murdered my father. They slaughtered my mother and my tribe. They killed my mate, and ... I was forced to bury my child, too." Her voice had fallen to a whisper. "I know what it is to want to taste vengeance. I know revenge. I know anger." She said. "I've spent so long not wanting to think about it or talk about it and getting angry about it every time it was brought up, but I learned." At that point she didn't care if Tembovu was still listening to her or if he had begun ignoring her when she didn't readily agree with him.

"I learned that until you're able to forgive all the horrible things that have been done to you you'll never be able to forgive yourself for your failures and downfalls." She stared openly at Tembovu as she spoke, her golden eyes shining with conviction. Papa Echo, for all his strange ways had helped to heal Ada both physically and spiritually, though both had taken a great deal of time. "Forgiveness is what heals the soul and eases the ghosts and demons." It was strange, telling Tembovu what the old man had told her over and over again in Dorobo, but she felt as though he needed to hear it because she didn't think he'd ever healed his wounds. She felt as though he'd just let them fester and spread infection and that infection was changing him. "And you need to forgive and love yourself like..." like I do She murmured. 


"."

the fine line between love and hate

His ears, which had tilted back with his fervent tones, sweep forward. Their black-rims strain forward as shock fractured through him once again—though this was not the dangerous clamor of demons on the doors of his walls. No, this was surprised, pained empathy; Ada had a mate? A child?

She had not mentioned these these things on the Plains.

Black masked brows crease in a frown, corners of his thick lips tilting downwards as he leaned further towards her, straining to hear the soft whisper her voice had been reduced to beneath the weight of a past she had not yet bled out of her soul. And, despite her not acquiescing to his request to leave the past alone, he still listened. He would forever listen to his cat—is that not how they had begun? By him listening to her when she refused to quail in his shadow beneath the heat of his rage?

So he listened, bringing his great skull closer to hers, withers twitching once as his wound’s blood welled and itched his hide. Navy eyes met her open, shining stare, “I did not know you had a child,” His voice was a deep, hushed murmur—laced with apology and empathy, “I thought you had lost only your sire and dam… But your mate? And your child? H—“ He cut off his question as she spoke once again, “Forgiveness is what heals the soul and eases the ghosts and demons.”

His lips gently press together, a pain in his chest slowly becoming more and more pronounced with each great pound of his massive heart. ”And you need to forgive and love yourself like…” His eyes closed against the crest of pain he knew would come. It had been a long while since this tormenting wave had overwhelmed him. He had become a master at avoiding it, running from it, bolstering his walls against the onslaught of loss that had once been his constant cohort.

And Ada’s persistent words, her confession, her profession (had she professed? It was lost in the throbbing tides in his mind and chest), it all brought down his armaments. In the face of her loss and her open forgiveness, his defenses were useless. Lost in this flood, his head reached out to her, seeking some sort of anchor to tie him to the pool in which they stood.

A shallow, pained breath pushed out of his nostrils—how had he forgotten how much this hurt? His teeth clenched, rigid jaw pressing against her cheek, “'Forgiveness'—you say that like it is easy, Ada,” his deep rumble was raw, now, “I have spent half a lifetime seeking revenge and another half trying to atone for it—“ the truth of his time in Helovia undid him with a ragged breath, “—how did they die?” His question from earlier, about her mate and child, tore from his lips.

"Its not common knowledge." Was all Ada said on the subject of her mate and child because that wasn't what was important at that moment. What was important was imparting the knowledge that Echo had given her onto Tembovu in hopes that it would take root and grow so he could find peace. She, herself, was not a spiritual mare and in Dorobo she had not been particularly forgiving of everyone who had wronged her. If it were not for Echo she would be in the same situation as Tembovu, still hurting and angry and allowing it too much power of him.

"I know forgiveness is not easy." Ada snorted. "I didn't say it was. its hard. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but everything in life that's worth while is hard, Tembovu. If forgiveness were easy then no one would be bitter and hurt over their past..."

“I have spent half a lifetime seeking revenge and another half trying to atone for it—“

"A wise, old Debwani once told me that 'dole ka ba kawai yi gãfara ga waɗanda suka yi zãlunci da kai, amma da kanka ga kurakuranmu da ka aikata gāba da wasu za a gaske warkar'. Roughly translated it means 'you have to forgive not only those who have wronged you, but yourself for the wrongs that you've committed against others to be truly healed." The spotted mare said and as she spoke the words she smiled. "But ... he didn't put it so eloquently. You've heard Echo speak." Her fondness of the old Debwani was evident in the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes as she spoke of him. She owed the old man everything and would probably never be able to repay her debt to him.

Tembovu asked how her family had died and she remained quiet as she thought about them. Though she had forgiven the ones that had taken them from her, she still hurt when she thought about them. She still missed them and that would never change. "The council ordered a hit on my father when he started investigating. He got too close to figuring out what there doing so they murdered him. My mother was slaughtered in a raid on my tribe because I was getting too close to figuring out what they were doing. I believe they were trying to scare me into giving up." She explained. "Jeshi was hunted down and murdered llike my father was and..." She frowned because she knew Tembovu well enough to believe that he was try to take the blame for what had happened to her child. "I was pregnant when Mawindo beat me ... I miscarried shortly after."

"."

the fine line between love and hate

Black-rimmed ears flick and swivel as he listens to her speak the Debwani tongue. There is something strangely comforting about the forest-dwellers tongue; because it is familiar, it harkens back to the Plains. There were Dorobians, Korofi now here, speaking their mother tongue. But the Debwani language… it was still spoken only in the plains.

Until Ada spoke it, that is. And so he listened to her words and their meaning. He listened, and let them fall into his mind; but, for the moment, they were as lost as he was amid the sea of loss and grief that he had been avoiding for so long. And he had built his defenses, bolstered his sails, against this raging storm. But, still, there was little one can do against such melancholic ghosts.

He had no words, only his lips buried in Ada’s silken black mane, listening as she answered his question. She told him of her father, and her mother; both were deaths he had discovered and confirmed the Makutano had caused after he had sent her away. But he did not know of this ‘Jeshi,’ —and was surprised, for all the sensual attraction between the Elephant and the cheetah during their time in Dorobo, that she had not mentioned him before.

“I was pregnant when Mawindo beat me… I miscarried shortly after.”

The man stilled, breath dead in his lungs. “I miscarried.” His dark blue eyes flared open and glazed as emptiness filled his barrel. He had allowed Mawindo to take her; he had—he had caused this? The realization shook the foundations of the Elephant’s just pillars.

He had killed her child.

“No, Ada,” the deep, broken words were said on a quiet gasp of air as his head slung suddenly over her slender neck and withers. Holding onto her in apology, forgiveness, as well as grasping onto something to keep him there, and standing. Darkness swelled in his barrel, so much more damning and condemning than the demons of dead bodies he had brought with him.

He hadn’t killed his wife and child. He had buried them, mourned them, missed them—but he did not cause their deaths. But this child, Ada’s unborn foal— this one he had murdered. Or allowed to be murdered.

A quiet, deep groan pulled from his throat as he thighed his hold on the cheetah, painfully so, “Why didn’t you tell me?” His hissed question was laced with defeat, betrayal, fear, and pain.

She did not have to look at Tembovu to gauge how the news of her miscarriage had affected him.  She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his hold on her tightened, and in the way his breathing changed. The cheetah knew him well enough to know that he took his responsibilities seriously and that he often took responsibility for things that were out of his control. That Mawindo had beaten her as severely as he had was something that had been out of his control. Her miscarriage had been something that had been unavoidable and looking back she understood and accepted it.

"Its not your fault." She said, as if she already knew his line of thinking. Don't try to take responsibility for something that was not your fault. It was my fault because I let Mawindo catch me. "I knew the dangers of being pregnant in Dorobo. I knew the possibilities." She explained. "Its happened more times than you know in the female soldiers. It was an risk we all knew and accepted." But that didn't make the death of an unborn child hurt any less. It only made it easier to cope.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't your burden to carry." Ada answered. "It was mine and mine alone." Her weight shifted as she stood in Tembovu's embrace. "And if I had told you that I was pregnant you would have been too careful. You would have been found out and everything we'd been doing would have been for nothing. I made the decision to keep it a secret and I was prepared for the consequences of my choice."



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the fine line between love and hate

It wasn’t his fault? His teeth grit as she spoke, jaw clenched as he sought for some semblance of control over the shame, anguish, guilt, and anger that welled in him. But there was no outlet for such emotions, they were aimed at himself. She claimed to know the dangers of pregnancy; how it had happened often to her female soldiers.

His rage billowed from his eyes as his neck that was clenched around hers released. He took a few steps away from her, chest growing hot as his control slipped; the water sizzled around the black skin as elephantine trumpets sounded in his ears. “You knew the dangers?” his deep rumble was hoarse and quiet, “What of me? I did not know them. Do you think I would have risked your unborn child to Mawindo’s spite?” His ears tilted back as shame billowed up his throat, trying to choke out anger’s flames.

He was angry at a mother who had lost her unborn child, in order to eradicate the injustice and corruption of Makutano. She was right, in some sense: they all had made sacrifices and they all had burdens. “But you didn’t need to carry that burden, alone,” his murmur was quiet, unbidden, as any command over his tongue and mind left with the sizzling steam around his chest.

His silence lasted for a few, long moments. Navy eyes undulated between cold pain and hot anger as he watched the golden yellow of Ada’s. He watched her closely, hard eyes staring at her black-lined face. She had made a choice, and she was right in that it was hers to make. She had let them take her child from her, ripped from the womb with horns angry from distorted information and manipulation. It was a death he could have prevented, another child’s blood that could still be pumping by a live heart. Finally, his deep voice rumbled, head bowing slightly, “Yes, it was your decision to make, Ada. But it does not affect just you. Do you think I wanted your child to die? Do you think Mawindo wanted to be a child-killer?” He blinked, eyes leaving her face as his accusations melted his anger once he spoke them aloud.

So, when he spoke again, the crack in his voice was genuine, even as he spoke the the water’s rippling surface, “Samahani, kipaka.”

---

Samahani = I am so very sorry.

“What of me? I did not know them. Do you think I would have risked your unborn child to Mawindo’s spite?”

"What of you?" Ada echoed Tembovu's question. "It was not your decision to make." the mare stressed. "I had no reason to tell you. You were not my mate nor were you the father of my child." And, honestly, she didn't think Mawindo would have cared to know if she were pregnant or not. His hate for her had been too great for any sense to have been talked into him. She thought he would have thought the loss of her child would equate to an eye for an eye.

"But you didn't need to carry that burden alone."

But she hadn't. Echo had helped her after her child had been lost.

She could feel the change in the water as it heated (in response to Tembovu's anger?) amd she snorted. Her curled ears tilted back against her head in distaste at the anger that Tembovu displayed at the choice she'd made that had very little to do with him. He agreed that it was her decision to make, but he insisted that it affected him. "It was not your child." She said stubbornly.  But he kept on, asking her if she thought he wanted her child to die, or if she thought Mawindo wanted to be a child-killer.

"Do you honestly think Mawindo would have had mercry on someoen that he percieved as  child-killer?" Ada snapped back. "Everyone thought I murdered your family and everyone else's." She reminded him. "Would you, had you not known the truth have cared that i was carrying a child? Would you have not  viewed it as a justifiable punishment?" Don't you dare get all high and mighty on me, Tembovu. Don't you dare.

Then he was apologizing and Ada visibly deflated. "Its fine." She sighed, clearly growing weary of talking about the past. "Maybe one day I'll be able to make up for the choice I had to make in Dorobo." Maybe one day I'll get to be a mother.


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