"You made Tay sad!"
Kelper. Fists set stubbornly on small hips, eyebrows angled fiercely, the village's resident demon had taken up a position just in front of the entrance to Tay's spot and was guarding it so determinedly that an onlooker might have thought his life was in danger. His small accomplices flanked him on either side, both looking equally nettled.
"It wasn't me-" Cour began lamely, but Kelper didn't seem to be in the mood for explanations. His nose wrinkled severely.
"You an' Sol, then," he remedied scathingly, ignoring the spasm of disbelief that passed across Cour's face at the revelation of this knowledge. "Go away, Tay doe'n't want you."
"He hasn't said that to me," Cour challenged, trying to gather his wits. "I'm not leaving until he says so."
"Go away!" called Tay's voice, muffled and teary, from inside the ring of bushes. The twins looked briefly smug, but their brother's expression did not change.
"Now he did," the boy reasoned shortly. "You have to go now."
Cour let out a harsh breath of weary frustration. "Tay, come on!" he shouted over Kelper at the stony-faced row of silent greenery hiding his betrothed. "Just a talk, please? What did I do?"
"The twins told me you were talking to Sol! And you agreed with him, didn't you? You wouldn't be here, wanting a talk, if you hadn't!" The younger Kindred's shouting had gotten hoarse and shaky, as if he was getting ready to cry again. Cour felt his chest clench anxiously at the sound in spite of, or maybe because of, the spent and harrassed feeling growing inside it.
"He came to talk to me!" Cour claimed, trying to be mollifying while at the same time settling an exasperated look on the twins. "You're not helping, you two!" he hissed at them in an undertone.
The pair had the grace to look discomfited.
"I don't care who came to who! You listened to him, didn't you, and now you want to make me let him have Cunelbren, and I won't!" Tay cried hotly from behind the now shaking bushes, bursting audibly into tears. "Go away!"
Cour felt his forehead compress. "You named him?"
He was sorry for it the moment he said it. To his own bewildered head it had sounded like a perfectly logical question, after all this time waiting, but his ears knew better. Especially in his current state, Tay wouldn't like the implications of that question at all. Still, it wasn't as though he could take it back. For the hundredth time that day, he wondered what he had done to get the gods so angry at him.
"Of course I named him!" Tay fairly shrieked. His voice broke sharply on the last syllable, but he launched into his next sentence without seeming to notice. "He's mine! Kelper, get out of the way!"
This time Kelper obeyed without question, and Cour had just enough time in which to wonder what it was that had made the twins and their brother so loyal before his head snapped painfully to one side.
He swung it back around cautiously, peering out from behind pinched lashes, but Tay no longer looked even remotely angry. He had one hand over his mouth, the other splayed protectively and comfortingly over his flat middle, and the expression on his face spoke complete, disbelieving horror. Tears still trickled, shining, down his face.
"I'm - sorry," the stunned cub-bearer stuttered, "I didn't mean to -"
"No, you did," Cour objected. The side of his face throbbed; he wondered ruefully whether Tay's hand hurt as much. "You don't now, but you did. I don't mind." There didn't seem very much chance of a relapse, but he looped his arms around the cub-bearer anyway, pressing an impulsive kiss to one wet cheek.
"Do you feel better now?"
"No," Tay said, mournful. "Cour, why did you listen? Don't you think I can take care of him?" More tears welled up to overflow down the fifteen year old's face. Cour had the sudden awful feeling that Tay wasn't angry because Cour had talked to Sol, but because he himself was afraid that their supposed conspiracy was the right thing.
His conscience stung. Never once had he thought that maybe Tay was afraid he wouldn't measure up; the younger Kindred had always seemed so confident in his own ability to parent a cub... The fears had always seemed attached to bigger things like Tay's own cubhood, or the mess with Sol, or how a cub of such mixed parentage might be received.
And Sol says I'll move out soon, he thought sourly. I'm nowhere near ready. Cub-bearers are always unsure of how well they'll care for their cubs, and I never thought of that once.
Cour hugged the sobbing teen closer, and as he did, his eyes cast over Tay's brown head onto the trio still standing there. They would need to go before he could have a good discussion with Tay, he decided. "I think you can go now," he mouthed at the oldest.
Kelper cocked his head to one side consideringly; then he dipped a short, almost invisible bow and trotted demurely off into the trees with the twins in his wake. His part was done, Tay was safe, and now there were other important things to get to.
Cour followed him with disbelieving eyes. Sometimes that cub was just frightening.
"Don't play in the mudhole!" Tay called after them, sniffling, and the twins' chorus floated back at once.
"We won't!"
Sighing tiredly, Tay subsided into the embrace. Cour took the opportunity to lower them both to the ground, Tay settled securely in his lap with long legs circled tightly about the older Kindred's waist. Around them, the warm breezes that heralded the coming of an early summer blew, making the dark, shining foliage of the bushes chatter as though offering comfort to their friend and 'owner', but Tay said nothing in return.
Cour shook his head softly. His chosen mate had a great knack for finding the most terrible things in every situation and clinging to them as the pure truth; yet even Tay would never dare to accuse him of lying, if he told him the facts outright.
He took a breath. "Tay, the twins were right. Sol did come to my house, and we did talk for a while, but he never once spoke of making you give him your cub. He said you chased him off before he could explain to you."
"I was angry," Tay agreed in a small voice. "He scared me. And... the smell... Cour, I couldn't stand it," he vouched in a pleading rush of words, turning strained, waterlogged eyes upward; then, miserably, "I was horrible, wasn't I."
"I understand," Cour soothed, fending off his companion's looming tears. Then he thought of something, and grinned. "But you know, you should be glad you reacted so badly to him. If you hadn't, I'd have to be worried, wouldn't I?"
"You'd... oh!" Tay clapped a hand over his mouth. "I didn't think of that!"
Cour hugged him again. It had been a good thing to think of just then, for both of them, and he was unutterably glad that he had. Being aware of the fact that they were destined to be mates was one thing, but knowing it was another, much better one. Hormones didn't lie, Cour thought wryly, enjoying the small wriggle his armful made in an attempt to get closer. Cub-bearers were notorious for their shortness of temper during pregnancy, brought on especially by the scent of fertile males; Cour guessed that this might be related to the tendency of such males to be overaggressive in their attentions, and, for lack of a better word, clumsy. Males had also at one point actually fought over prospective mates as the wild things did, and anything that violent had a chance of harming the unborn cub, not to mention that teenaged males had a general habit of getting on most any cub-bearer's nerves. Tay was right; if Sol had been anywhere close, Tay wouldn't have been able to control the instinct to drive him off. The only male a pregnant cub-bearer really could stand was the one their inner self recognised unfailingly as their mate, which led to an extremely likeable conclusion.
"So, now I know where I stand," he murmured, half teasing, into the warm, blush-reddened shell of his mate-to-be's ear. "Shall it wait until after the cub comes, or shall we just have done?"
"What?" Tay asked, forcing the hug loose enough to lean back for a view of his seat's face. Cour shook his head lightly, trying not to laugh.
"The wedding, silly. Don't get flustered now, I was joking. We won't do that 'til you're good and ready."
Tay didn't look as comforted by that as Cour had hoped he would be.
"Why do you like me?" he quivered suddenly in a voice like a shy cub almost wanting the punishment, just so it would be over. "I'm not ever any good! All I do is get angry, and upset, and now I hit you..." He trailed off, mouth twisting uncertainly under the pressure of sharp teeth.
"I don't like you for your good temper or your wonderful social skills, or even your looks, though heavens know you've got enough of those," Cour retorted, unable to hold back a grin. "I'd be surprised if there's a male in town who's not noticed you once or twice. I like you, no matter how bad you get, and you're certainly not unbearable now. You're just out of sorts, all right? It'll get better after the cub comes, I promise."
"Hope so," Tay sniffled, scrubbing damp eyelids on the underside of his sleeve. "Cour, I- I don't want to give my cub away, but it just... I'm so scared all the time. I'm only fifteen, everybody here has cubs older than that! People back... home... had cubs like this all the time. Not before marrying, I mean. Younger. You know?"
"Yes," Cour nodded. "I remember."
"I don't know how," Tay went on unhappily. "I'm scared to talk to anybody, and it's not like I have anybody to talk with anyway. I can't just walk up to a stranger and ask about raising cubs, can I? But I'm not friends with anyone who has some, either! I don't want to hurt him, but what if I do? What'll I do when he's sick, or when he asks about his father? Will the other cubs tease him? Do they tease here?"
Cour decided not to answer that one. Luckily, Tay didn't seem to require an answer; he plunged on without waiting for it.
"You've been doing everything for me, and I like it, but you can't keep doing that when the cub comes! I've got to do something. I do love you, but it's not your fault he's here to take care of. The least I can do is take half the work. I just don't know if I can." He sighed heavily, head drooping.
"Maybe Sol should take him away from me."
"Come on, Tay, don't talk like that," Cour soothed him. "Every new parent is scared they're going to mess up. And believe it or not, everybody's scared of going out and talking to people, too. It takes time, but you won't ruin him in the meantime. I can help. I've not had a lot of experience with cubs, but I've had a little, and think of all the times you've taken care of Kelper and the twins! You can't say they're bad cubs." He smiled. "Even if they are prone toward thievery and cake-snatching."
"But it's not the same," Tay argued despairingly, sliding his hands tentatively into Cour's. "Their parents had already gotten them ready before I had anything to do with it, and it's their parents they go back to at night. When Cunelbren comes I'll have to take care of him day in and day out, training and all."
"But it's a start! You'll be fine," the older teen insisted. "There has to be a beginning to everything. Kelper's da didn't know it all before having cubs either-in fact, did you know he had never even taken care of smaller siblings?"
Tay looked briefly flabbergasted. "He didn't?"
"No," Cour repeated, shaking his head. "He was the youngest of eight. Twins and two sets of triplets. He and his twin had a tendency to play by themselves, or so I've heard; like Rinč, Kayte, and Ranon I guess. Denen says they didn't even play around other cubs their own age much. And what about poor Mam? Don't you think he worries about what kind of a parent he'll be? He can't handle the twins and Kelper at all, but it's more than likely his own cubs will be like that. Almost all the Cūrtalans have a stubborn streak a mile or more wide, it's written in their blood. You have me, and Denen for healing, and you'll have Vayrsila for help too. He won't turn you down or hate you, and he had enough cubs he should know what to do with one. You'll be all right, Tay."
"I can't think straight," the cub-bearer whispered, burrowing into Cour's chest and gripping him like the only solid thing in a floating world. "Everything just keeps turning scary! You promise to stay?"
"I promise," Cour assured, hugging the slim body of his betrothed. "We spent long enough turning circles around each other, I'm not leaving now and wasting all that. If you can't think of it in terms of loyalty right now, think of it as conservation of time."
"Okay," Tay snuffled, giggling. "I'll try."
"But you still have to decide about Sol," Cour reminded him seriously. Tay's giggles subsided.
"Can't I wait just a little bit? Until I feel better?"
"I don't think so," Cour told him heavily. "You won't be back to yourself until after the cub comes, and that's too long. You'll feel better once the decision's made, Tay. For your own good. And you already know what you should do, don't you?"
"I should... let him see," Tay started haltingly, chewing his bottom lip. "I don't want Cunelbren to hate us. 'Specially not me, I guess. He should be allowed to see his sire, even if you do get to be his father. But Cour, I don't know if I can do it."
"Then don't. Let me be with you, and all the others. We love you. You don't have to do it all by yourself."
"You make it sound so easy," Tay complained.
"How do you know it won't be?"
"How do you know it will?" Tay countered, but he was smiling when he said it. For a minute Cour could see how things might be once they got past all the stones in the path, and he smiled back.
