Denai was a part of that. Part of the reason he had accepted her was a need to prove to himself that he could function in proximity to a stranger. But he'd chosen a stranger that he felt was no threat to him, barely more than a girl that he felt needed to be watched over and protected. That wasn't really a challenge to his ferality. He didn't particularly trust Denai, but he knew that he felt she was no danger to him. He felt wary when she got too close to him, but he felt no true trepidation either. He was hovering between pushing her away and treating her like a daughter, and he knew it.
Small steps, his mother would tell him if she were with him. One step at a time, and don't overreach.
Strange. Since he'd accepted Denai, the eyeless face that haunted him had eased considerably. It was still there, but it was much as if its fangs had been drawn. It felt little more than a kind of reminder now, an awareness of what would happen to him if he started back down the path of ruthlessness. How could Denai's presence defuse that acidic image so? It wasn't like she meant anything to him.
It was something that seemed totally illogical. So much so that it made his head a little woozy just trying to think about it, so he decided to think about something else.
He watched the two Selani chat with Sarraya, not really listening to them. They seemed… familiar. Familiar with one another familiar with Sarraya, despite the fact that she was so obviously different than them. Selani were a rather stoic lot, hard to surprise and even harder to unbalance. It was a racial trait, something that they shared with Allia. But there was no resolute stoicism in how they talked, or their body language. Allia seemed stiff sometimes, but that was because she was thrust into an alien culture with little experience with it. The fact that she wasn't too fond of humans exascerbated it. But when they were alone, when she was among her friends, she was much as those two were now. Looking at them, he couldn't imagine either of them being a threat to him. Yet he knew that if he were to get close to them, they would suddenly seem much more threatening than they did now. Even if they weren't, his feral instinct would convince him that they were. Part of him wanted to be over there with them, talking about nothing in particular, getting to know them better. But that part of him was enslaved to his towering fear of strangers, a fear so powerful that it would cause him to lash out in violence against anyone he felt was too dangerous.
Strange that he would feel so alone. It was an odd realization. Watching them, listening to them, it made him feel… lonely. Sarraya understood him, talked to him, but he knew that his quiet manner put her off. He just didn't engage in idle chat, and that was what the Faerie needed right now. She was better off with those two, getting to know them and making them feel more comfortable in his presence. In any case, she couldn't ease the ache inside him. She was a dear friend, and he was glad she was there, but she wasn't his sisters, she wasn't his parents. Only they could fill the void left in him by their separation.
As always, when he felt lonely or afraid or confused, all he had to do was look up. He rose to his feet and turned his back on the three of them, raising his face to the White Moon. That milky face stared down at him, sang to him in ways anyone not Were would never understand, and as always, the cheeky grin of Miranda seemed to shine down on him from that skybound moon. Looking up at the moon appeased the animal in him, but it also reminded him of friends and family long away, friends and family who were waiting for him to return to them. Miranda's cheeky grin was affixed into Domammon now, but it also invoked images, memories of dear sisters and beloved parents, memories of trusted friends and stalwart companions, memories of home. He really didn't have a home anymore, but he knew that wherever he was was home, so long as those that made him feel safe were around him. The human in him yearned for friends and family to be with him, but until that day came, the echo of it granted to him by Domammon would have to suffice.
The White Moon was no friend, but it carried an echo of the feeling of belonging, an echo that soothed his troubled mind, if only for a little while.
The night passed with no trouble. The four of them took turns keeping the fire bright and strong, both warding off the night's chill and repelling the sand-ghosts that haunted the desert the night before. The night allowed Tarrin to think, to look at the other three with him as they slept and ponder their presence, and how they made him feel. It made him come to a few conclusions, conclusions that part of him still all but rioted against, so strongly they were aligned against the idea.
If Var asked to travel with them, Tarrin would not say no.
He'd decided that while throwing strips of bark into the fire in the dead of night. He had to do what Mist did. He had to confront what he feared, confront it and face it day after day after day. He couldn't do that unless an object to fear was available. Denai wouldn't be enough, she reminded him too much of a child for him to truly fear her. Var was an adult, someone that the animal in him did indeed fear, but Var was also trained enough to be able to evade any sudden attack that he may initiate against him. Given a little preventive education by Denai and Sarraya, the Selani male should be able to prevent himself from getting into any of those situations. Something inside him told him that Var wanted to stay with them. He didn't know what it was, but it was a strong feeling. And given what had happened recently, he'd decided to listen very closely to that gut feelings. So far, they had yet to lead him astray. And Var's presence would force Tarrin to face his fear, face the demons inside that urged him to attack or to flee. Given time, he hoped, he would find that fear was his enemy, not the people who created it inside him.
It was morning, and the sun was rising over the eastern horizon. With it came the morning winds, but they were broken up by the rock spire and the fallen rock that formed the enclosed space that they had used to set up their camp. He couldn't really hear them whipping outside the camp, but it was early yet. They were at their strongest about an hour after sunrise, after the sun had had some time to heat the air and cause it to move. The others were also awake, eating a meal of toasted oat cakes Denai had made over the fire. Var seemed completely at ease with the others, trading barbs with Sarraya lightly. Tarrin had not spoken to any of them since the night before. Then again, he had something to do, and it wasn't going to put him in a very good mood.
It was time to aggravate himself.
He wanted to do it last night, but even he wasn't crazy enough to go out into the darkness alone with those Sandmen out there. He didn't want to do it near them, because their scents distracted him, and he had enough distractions already. The top of the broken rock spire would do very well, he'd decided. It was out of the way, yet not too far from the others. They wouldn't bother him up there-at least they wouldn't if they knew what was good for them-and it would give him the isolation and peace he needed to try to regain his magic.
"Go ahead and get started," he told them, without bothering to greet them. "I'll catch up in about an hour."
"Well good morning," Sarraya said acidly.
"We'll not leave you behind, Tarrin," Denai said mildly. "If you're not ready to leave, then we'll wait."
"I guess I should move on," Var said with a bit of a sigh. "But without my fire-pack, I don't do my people very much good as a Scout. I can't set signal fires to warn them of possible danger."