Revelations

***************************************

The excursions into the woods stopped after that, and Tay regretted it: he had gotten used to the pseudo-silence of the outdoors and would have liked to enjoy fresh air as much as he could before his time came and forced him to stay inside, but he could no longer bring himself to stray far from the safety of the village bounds. It didn't matter too much. Now that Denen was in on the secret, there was no need to go outside for time alone with Cour; the elder corolaith was content to leave them to their own devices in Cour's bedroom. (As long as they avoided the obvious one, he had warned Cour with a gleam in his eye that reminded Tay frighteningly of his foster-father. Not that Vayrsila was nosy, he was just overly... protective, sometimes.)

There were no more incidents of humans trespassing on the tribe's land, and the elders all agreed that there wouldn't be for quite some time to come, though none of them would reveal what they had done to accomplish this. Tay trusted their judgement, but he still couldn't bring himself to go out alone. On days dry enough to work in the fields he stuck closer to the other workers than ever before, even when it got humiliatingly obvious. Better to be humiliated than dead, his instinct told him firmly. He had two lives to look out for, after all.

Denen, true to his word, had told no one. This hadn't stopped him from wanting to tell someone, and he and Tay had gotten into an ongoing argument of sorts over whether or not it was necessary to the cub's health that Tay let the secret out. Tay couldn't help but think that Denen had a point. He couldn't go on working like this, it wasn't a matter of choices anymore. If he tried to, he might very well lose the cub, and most likely bleed to death himself in the process before anyone even knew what was happening to him.

He knew all of this, but he hadn't decided yet what to do about it.

Still, this wasn't the day to worry about things like that. Cour was right, he had worried long enough, and if the cub was to be healthy, happy, or both, he needed to get some relaxation in. At the moment he was on his way to Kelper and the twins' house, to see if their da needed any help with them. Frighteningly energetic as they were, they were the closest Tay had to friends outside of Cour, and they were always lighthearted. The walk would be good for him anyhow. The day was warm, the first truly warm day of the new spring, and his cub was a welcome weight in his belly as he walked the length of the worn and flattened path. Cour had promised that he wouldn't show, and he didn't even now in his sixth month, but soon after the end of his fifth he had begun to feel a slight displacement. Not exactly a heaviness, just an awareness of where the cub was, and what it was pressing against.

That part had made itself known in more than one way, and some were less pleasant than others. He was sure Vayrsila was going to catch on if he couldn't hold liquids in any better than he had been.

Slowly but surely the length of the grasses and weeds by the roadside lessened. In town there was so much movement among the villagers that grass rarely lasted long once the heavy spring rains were over; it was flattened at once. Tay could always tell how close he was to the village by the length of the grasses. It gave him a homey feeling sometimes, the small things he could notice all around him that he hadn't noticed once.

Kelper and the twins' family lived close to the middle of town, only a few doors away from the small house that Denen and Cour shared. He would ask there first, Tay decided. On a day like this it wasn't probable that the cubs would be at home, but it was easier to just ask than to go one by one to all the thousand places in which they played.

He rapped gently on the sturdy wooden door, and it swung open for him. "Are-" he began, but cut short when he saw who had opened it.

His breath caught.

"Sol," he greeted, his tone bitter even though he hadn't meant it to be. "I didn't know you were here."

Kelper's older brother smiled almost apologetically. "I can't avoid you forever, Tay. You looking for Kelper and the twins?"

Taydren hesitated. His heart pattered unevenly like the frightened paws of a rabbit in his chest; the scent of a male of mating age so near, and most especially this one, was making him defensive.

"Are they here?" he managed finally, and the harsh tone of his voice hurt even himself. Sol's face fell slightly.

"You're not going to forgive me, are you."

Tay swallowed hard, fighting the urge to either run or warn the perceived threat to his cub off with a few good swipes. "There's nothing to forgive," he said. "I asked. It was what I wanted. I didn't mean... to sound so angry."

"All right," Sol said, but he didn't look convinced. He nodded towards the back of the house. "They're outside. Around back the last time I saw them, playing in the dirt again."

"Thank you," Tay breathed almost silently, backed out of the door, and ran.

He didn't notice until halfway to the lake that he had forgotten about the twins and Kelper. A hot wave of guilt surged into his throat at the realisation that he couldn't face them, as if they were somehow responsible for the mess he had gotten himself into with their brother, but he dared not turn back. Wrong as it was, they were still kin and reminders of the one and only Kindred he truly could not face yet.

So he went on.

Some four minutes later, he found himself standing forlornly on the edge of the lush-edged, rain-swollen lake, lecturing himself on the dangers of getting too self-centered. He should have realised that Cour couldn't be there every minute of every day and work at the same time. He should have realised that he couldn't always rely on a group of cubs to be his support and anchor whenever emotions failed him and he needed someone without all the complications of adult life. He should have done many things, but he had done none of them. So many chances, and he had ruined them each in turn, one by one, as if he was trying to get himself into more trouble than he could get out of. If that was true, then he congratulated himself on finally succeeding, because of all things in the world that could not be lightly gotten rid of, a cub was the greatest.

A cub should have a father, he knew that. If possible, it should have its own father, the male who had given it life, to teach it the way to use that life. If he had chosen a bad man, someone who would be abusive or callous, he would have been able to justify to himself, but he had chosen Sol, who was goodnatured and kind and a fine example to any cub, and if he took that away from his own then what would he be? Cour would love the cub, Tay knew, but he could never explain to his little one why he had denied him his birth father. Tay could keep the secret forever, but he would pay for it every day. Beyond that, all that was left was to tell Sol, and to do that he would have to trust that Sol would not demand anything from him.

It had been such a long time since he had trusted anyone that much. There were times when he didn't even trust Cour. But there had to be a way...

When he was young, he had never thought much. There had been lots more things to do than think; he supposed most cubs lived life with that philosophy, which was why they had parents to keep them out of trouble. Nowadays he thought a good deal, and in fact probably spent too much time just going over old situations and regrets in his head, but what he had noticed most of all while wasting time thinking was the surprising amount of meaning in the world. After all, everything that had happened since he was six years old hinged upon the simple fact that he had gone right and not left in the woods one autumn night.

Tay had since learned that there was a small settlement of humans not twenty miles from his tribe's old home. To the left.

He supposed, then, that if the fathers were watching him so well and had given him this cub out of a near impossible situation, fathered by a man that Tay had never intended to marry, there had to be some meaning in that also. Either it was his duty to give Cour his freedom and marry Sol, or it was a warning to leave the ways of his own tribe behind and make his own way. Whether one or the other, the choice should be made soon.

Twigs crunched behind him and he whirled, cursing himself for forgetting that the woods were dangerous in his haste to get out of an uncomfortable situation and for not paying better attention. His body tensed in automatic preparation for a struggle.

It was Sol. Now Tay felt even stupider than he had before.

"What are you doing? You scared me to death," he muttered, sounding peevish and hating it. He wasn't some half-grown cub that couldn't take a joke, and this wasn't even a joke. He should be able to control his nerves better!

"I know you don't like to be out by yourself," Sol explained, shrugging helplessly. The grass, green and fresh from its closeness to the water, swayed around his feet. "You came out this way. I'm sorry I scared you, I didn't mean to, but... Tay, what's wrong? You said you wanted it, I must have asked you forty times! And you did want it, I know you did! Right up until afterwards." He hissed a sigh of vexation.

"I know you blame me, I can see it every time you so much as look at me. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but that's all I can do. It's done, Tay."

"I didn't mean it that way," Tay began levelly, knowing the moment he said it that it was a lie. "I don't know what's gotten into me but I didn't want to take it out on you." That part was a truth; he really hadn't wanted to.

Sol didn't call him on the lie, but his brown eyes were almost reproachful and definitely hurt. Even so, his voice showed no sign of anything other than quiet acceptance.

"If you're afraid Cour will be upset, I can tell you he won't. He loves you better than that."

Tay grimaced. "I know he does, and I already told him. That's not it."

"There is something wrong, then," Sol acknowledged, raising an eyebrow. "And you know what it is, don't you. You just don't want me to."

Frustrated anger, irrational as it was, flooded Tay's chest. His eyes started to burn with the first stages of hot, tempestuous tears.

"It was none of your business!" he managed to squeeze out around the lump in his throat, and saw Sol's fingers tighten into balls. Please, he begged anyone listening, let him be mad enough to go away. I know I said I would tell, but not now. I'm not ready yet...

Sol didn't go anywhere. Tay choked back a sob. Maybe, he considered painfully, he really didn't deserve to be listened to anymore. He was being so awful, and Sol just wanted to help. Unconsciously his hands went up over his belly, as if soothing his cub might make some difference in his own pain.

When he looked back up, Sol was staring. His heart sank.

"Tay..." Sol began, the words a mere gust of breath, then more clearly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

The cub-bearer's head drooped forward, his hair falling to curtain his eyes. Thin fingers curled miserably around the curve of the tree's side. "It was an accident," he murmured after a moment's thought. "I didn't want you to know."

As though of their own volition, Sol's fingers rose in a pleading, anticipatory gesture in the direction of Tay's protected stomach.

"Can I... can I see?"

Abruptly, violently, Tay's head lifted. His stance changed; Sol could imagine the hairs standing up on the back of his neck like the scruff of an angry dog. The possessive, desperate fury in the lines of his face almost made the older Kindred cringe.

"No, you can't!" he spat. "He's not yours and you can't have him! I'm going to marry Cour! I don't care if he hates me and I don't care if you hate me, I'm marrying Cour and I'm keeping my cub! Yes I do blame you and yes it is wrong and no I don't know why! Go away and leave me alone, I can take care of myself!"

Fists clenched, mouth set into a hard, white line, Tay looked every inch a protective parent, and at first Sol could only find enough of his wits to gape. The Tay of old would never have spoken up, never mind so inflexibly, and even if it was only hormones making him do so now it was still amazing.

Even more amazingly, Sol had a feeling that it wasn't just hormones. He fumbled for something to say, but Tay cut him off.

"Get out!"

"Tay, quit it! Let me say something!"

"If you're not going, I will," Tay gritted, eyes flashing, and did just that.

Sol's gaze followed him dazedly.

"Well, that was quick," he muttered.

But now what? Tay wouldn't talk anytime soon-no, that was an understatement, he would never talk, not if his protective anger this time around was any indication of his feelings. But who else had any jurisdiction at all in the matter? Well, no one was the answer to that, but there was somone who might be able to get through to Tay better than Sol could.

Who would the cub-bearer listen to if not his betrothed?

He would talk to Cour.

***************************************