Darian walked slowly toward what was left of the barricades, which were now being pulled apart by industrious women. The Raven warriors were on the heels of Wolverine and Blood Bear, making certain that they took themselves over the pass, the news of their defeat with them. More women, boys, and a few old men followed their own fighters, each carrying leather bags or small fishing nets - harvesting the discarded arms and armor. They were no fools; they could alter the style and fit of what was once Wolverine’s, and make it Raven’s.
He saw Karles first - then Shandi, Keisha, and Steelmind. For one horrible moment, he feared the worst.
Then Shandi helped Steelmind to his feet; she draped one of his arms over Karles’ back, and the other over her own shoulder, then began walking him back toward the village. Darian heaved a sigh of relief.
Keisha looked up as a shadow went across them, to see Kelvren wing heavily overhead, returning from overseeing the Wolverine warriors’ retreat. His landing was imperfect and he nearly buckled; it was not too hard to see why as his left side became visible. There was a deep gash from the top of his beak, through the cere, and a nick in his eyelid, clearly from the same blow. His nares freely bled distinctively dark red blood which flowed to mix with the lighter sticky red of his foes’, most of which had dried with loose feathers, dirt, twigs and other debris glued into it. The broken ends of two arrows showed from the blood-matted feathers in the leading edge of his left wing, and in his left thigh. As he landed, clearly in terrible pain, he raised his head high and bellowed, “Arrre therrre any morrre left? Brrring them on!”
Keisha and Darian cried out, in unison, “Kelvren!” and quick-walked - since they had little energy left for running - to the wounded gryphon.
“Arrre therrre any morrre left to fight?” Kelvren demanded, eyes pinning, his gaze darting right and left. Darian grimaced, seeing what had happened to his good friend. “No more left, Kel. We won. They’re all gone now.”
Kelvren gazed off in the direction Wolverine had fled and then slumped down onto his hindquarters, leaning right, and finally collapsing onto his side without even folding his wings. “Hurrrrhhh - then I will rrressst. Darrrian, Ssshin’a’in arrre might - being conssspicuousss attrractsss arrrowsss.”
Swaying a little, Keisha turned to Darian, with both hands outstretched. They fell into each other’s embrace, and that was all he needed or thought about for a brief, but blissful moment, broken only by Keisha murmuring in his ear.
His heart lofted skyward with joy, and his heartbeat in his ears sounded like wingbeats.
They had made it through every ordeal, despite fatigue, pain, and fear. Together.
Keisha was in an awkward position, in quite a few ways. Physically, she had one foot under Kelvren’s head, and her other leg across his neck, snugged around the nape and all but unseen underneath the mass of feathers. Kelvren himself was flat on his belly, with Darian straddling his back, keeping his wings safely folded by sitting on them. The gryphon had his beak clamped around a bedroll, and flinched every time she pierced his cere with the needle.
Kuari, feeling drowsy, was perched atop a chair back nearby.
“I know you don’t like this, Kel, but I have to get this gash stitched up,” Keisha softly said, and she hoped she actually sounded as reassuring as she was trying to. “The powder is dulling the pain as much as it will, the rest you just have to cope with. Bite down on the bedroll instead of me, and we’ll be through with this in just a little while, all right?”
It wasn’t just her physical position that made her feel awkward and strained right now, though. They were also in the middle of a discussion with Darian’s parents, who hovered off to the side and projected nervous tension like a thunderstorm sent out lightning.
“Father, you know that I love you, but I am a Knight of Valdemar now and an Elder of my Vale. I do like it here, I truly do - but I cannot stay here and be a part of Raven. There are things happening back home that I have to tend to.”
Daralie nodded slowly, her expression very neutral. “And that does say it all, doesn’t it - back home. There, in Valdemar, and at your Vale. We always taught you from an early age that home is a place in your heart, Darian. Sometimes the place in your heart can also be represented by a place in the world. If it is where you have to be, then you have to be there.”
Kullen nodded, agreeing with his wife’s words, though his expression was much more grave. “Darian, we are so proud of you that there are just no words in any language to tell you how much. When we lost you, we carried around a hole in our hearts for years. Even with what we were going through up here, we thought of you, or rather – we thought of you as we last knew you. When we were separated, our only influence on you was what we’d taught you already, and we hoped that you remembered. We wish we could have been with you, all that time you were under Justyn’s care, but fate did not have it so. We loved you then, and as for who you have become - we do not love you any less.”
Kelvren rumbled deep in his throat, not quite a growl, but close. He was reacting to the stitching, not what was being said, but it made a strange counterpoint to the discussion. At least the most delicate part - the eyelid cut - had been completed first. Wintersky limped by, conversing with Raven’s Chief, and glanced in at the tableau briefly. They both seemed to surmise in the same instant what was going on between Darian and his parents, and drifted off discreetly after no more than a short wave.
Kullen shifted his weight off of his crippled leg. “Son - who and what you have become, we could not have given you. You are a wonder to us, and to all of Raven, too. You’ll be spoken of here for a long time - Darian, the Hunters’ Son, the Owl Knight, the Shaman of the Earth-mother who can call up fountains and crack stone with a thought, to defend the people - and more stories yet to come.”
Darian looked from his mother to his father, and even though he tried to soften the blow of his words, he couldn’t. They still carried a hint of bitterness. “I didn’t come this far to become a tribal hero. I came here for you.”
“We know, son, we know,” Daralie spoke, and then she paused when Kelvren flinched strongly, biting hard enough into his gag they could all hear the bedroll’s stitches popping. She resumed a few seconds later, filling the uncomfortable silence of the moment. “All of you will be welcome back here, I hope you know that. But - before we even came here to talk to you, we knew what the outcome would be. We haven’t survived this long without knowing how to listen to our hearts, and - we can’t go back to Valdemar with you. We also know that you can’t stay here with us.”
Darian’s jaw set and his muscles were visibly tense, but that was nothing compared to what Keisha sensed from him. He was angry, disappointed, frustrated - upset at a very deep level over this news, yet - there was an undercurrent of relief, as well. Keisha sensed that inside, this was one of the end results that her lover secretly wanted. She sensed an undercurrent of -
Relief? Happiness at - freedom?
Kelvren growled, jarring her attention back to the task of stitching the wound. Darian straightened his shirt, and replied.
“Mother. Father. When you were gone, I had only feelings of fear and abandonment. I also had myself, and one more thing. I had my memories of you.”