“Not sure I do.” Mikoto’s glance flitted to the large feline sprawled nearby. “Except that you were patient with my hairpulling.”
Waaseyaa kept his hair in a braid that was remarkable for its length. If he wasn’t in the habit of looping it around his shoulders, the trailing end would have dragged on the ground.
Mikoto awkwardly asked, “Is he one of yours?”
“Not of my line. His father is one of the instructors.” Waaseyaa pulled the toddler into his arms. “Timur needed a hand, and both of mine were free. This is Gregor. And that one is Fend, Timur’s partner.”
Showing his palms to the Kith, Mikoto asked, “Where is Zisa?”
“Sulking.” Waaseyaa looked up into the tree’s canopy. “He cannot be as hospitable as he would like when the guest room is warded against him.”
Mikoto addressed himself to the tree. “Would you like to meet my new puppy?”
Zisa’s arms slipped around him from behind, hugging tightly as he hid his face against Mikoto’s back. His question came out muffled. “You came to see me?”
“I did. You and Uncle.” Mikoto patted one of the arms locked around him. “Glint gave me a puppy. He seemed to think I needed company.”
Zisa lifted his head and Mikoto smiled into eyes the same shade of yellow-green as the tree’s leaves. He’d never minded getting close to Zisa. Uncle had explained things a long while back, and Mikoto liked being trusted with the truth. Zisa loved to give, but he’d never take. And the more you accepted him, the less he flirted.
“Your house is farther than Brother lets me go.” Zisa kissed his cheek. “Visit more, and I will be good company.”
“I will.” Turning in Zisa’s embrace, he looped an arm around the tree’s waist for a sideways hug. “But you are expecting more interesting company. I saw it on the schedule. You are someone’s cabin assignment.”
“Really?”
“Right there on Merl’s spreadsheet. Cabin: Zisa.”
The tree looked to his twin, all dimples and delight. “Hear that, Brother? I am a cabin!”
“I can understand why Argent Mettlebright is so protective.” Waaseyaa caressed little Gregor’s mop of curls. “He asked nicely. How could we refuse?”
“Did you know we have company already?” Zisa asked coyly. “There is a dragon inside. He is beautiful.”
Mikoto carefully lifted Noble from his pocket. “You think everyone is beautiful.”
“Life is.” Loosing his embrace so he could take the pup with both hands, Zisa exclaimed, “Why, he is no bigger than an Ephemera! What is his name?”
“Noble.”
Zisa tittered. “How will Yulin tell you apart?”
Mikoto smiled and shrugged and … relaxed. He’d expected all the usual condolences, but Uncle and Zisa were simply glad he’d wanted to visit. Maybe that was how tree-kin had to be. Maybe that’s why Mikoto liked coming here so much. They were always present in the moment, always glad to share it with him.
Uncle indicated the place at his side, and Mikoto joined him.
“I know this garment.” Waaseyaa’s fingers lightly caressed the vest’s threadwork. “Is it heavy?”
He nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head. Uncle probably knew about his five-way apprenticeship, and he was tired of explaining it anyhow. So he asked, “You knew them all?”
“The headmen? Yes.”
“They must have looked up to you.”
“No,” said Waaseyaa. “Not all. And not always.”
Mikoto couldn’t imagine it. This person was kind and wise and generous.
“Some of them were afraid of me. Some of them were disappointed in me.”
“Why?”
His uncle looked away. “I think … they would have used my years differently. So instead of seeing me, they saw what I could have been. Or what they could have been, if there had been any way to trade places.”
“They were jealous of you?”
“Not really. They were jealous of parts, but not the whole.” Waaseyaa’s smile was small. “And some of them met me during times when I was unhappy. I am sometimes sad. You understand.”
Mikoto did.
“Some of them got along better with Glint than with me. Or … us.” His gaze settled fondly on his twin, who was chattering softly to Noble. “Not everyone understands. Or accepts.”
“I have always been more comfortable with you than Glint.” As soon as it was out, it felt like a bold confession. Mikoto ducked his head.
“Yes.” Waaseyaa patted his arm. “Glint loves you.”
He grunted.
“It is true. He gave you Noble because he knew you were sad. Puppies are his answer to grief.”
“Has he ever given you a puppy?”
“Many, many times.” Tugging loose the end of his braid, he passed it to Mikoto.
His breath caught all funny, and his throat began to ache. This was how his uncle had always offered comfort, for everything from bossy sisters to bruised knuckles. And once or twice because he’d admitted to nursing a broken heart. Mikoto had never been one to go all weepy, but … that didn’t mean he’d never sought comfort. Or known where to find it.
“Excuse me,” came a voice Mikoto didn’t know. “Sorry to interrupt.”
A man stood in the door to Waaseyaa’s home, practically filling it. Not quite dog clan stature, but close enough to rest an arm on the lintel as he leaned out. He wore battler colors and radiated competence.
“Can we get your healer back here? Colt Alpenglow?”
Mikoto saw the man notice him. Saw the man dismiss him. Knew what that meant among the ranks of battlers. Not a threat. Not a priority.
The man added, “He’s awake.”
For the barest fraction of a moment, Mikoto wanted to drop his uncle’s braid and pretend he was strong or important or immune to the emotions he had no words for. And for a fraction of a moment, he was disappointed in himself. Mikoto tightened his grip and wound Uncle’s braid around his fist, then his wrist. He would not let go. Not now. Not ever.
Waaseyaa accepted that much as he accepted anything. Without remark. Yet at this range, and tangled as he was, Mikoto briefly touched a vibrant bond that soared above them, even to the treetop, and deep into the earth, for Zisa was well-anchored upon this hill. And Waaseyaa was the beacon set upon it.
All of the sudden, Mikoto registered a deep rattle, and he tensed. The big cat was prowling toward him, all slink and sway. Like a black panther, but much larger. And far less threatening, since his alert was a purr.
Mikoto found himself staring into orange eyes.
“His name is Fend,” reminded Uncle in an undertone. The toddler in his arms babbled and laughed, clearly happy to see the big cat.
Fend’s broad nose touched Mikoto’s forehead, the lightest of taps. And then the purring was loud in his ears, for the feline was rubbing his face against Mikoto’s. Cheek to cheek. First one side, then the other. Over and over, like an affectionate housecat.
Was it a show of preference? That was really very flattering, especially in Wardenclave, where folks took pride in being dog people. Mikoto wondered what Glint would say if he saw this … and smiled.