craving a drink from the clear stream, aditya began to shuffle that way when he noticed a familiar presence at its bank. smiling, he broke into a slow trot--the action pained him a little, but it got better day by day--and settled down near dawn with a low chuff of greeting. she had one paw submerged in the water and was stretched out on her belly, breathing slowly.
"are you feeling okay?" he asked her, giving her a friendly look. she looked a little worse for wear, more battered than the time they had first met, and he wondered what had happened to knock the warrior princess down.
he poked his nose into the water and began to lap up water. it was clear and cold, and he was careful not to take in too much of the icy stuff too quickly, lest he get an ache in his stomach. after taking a few mouthfuls, he licked his lips and fell silent waiting for her response.
though he winced through her story, he gave a bark of delighted praise at its conclusion. "a-ha! so it was worth it, in the end. . .sort of." aditya gave her a goofy grin and rolled onto his back, looking up at the sky, which was a cloudless pale autumn blue.
he began to softly hum an old tune he had learned from a man who claimed to be his uncle. as he spoke the same language as his mother had, aditya had taken him at face value, but you never did know. could have just as well been his father, or one of his mother's old lovers. he had largely forgotten the man, but remembered the song, one of many vishal had taught him.
"main shayar to nahin,
magar ae haseen,
jab se dekha maine tujhko
mujhko shayari ho gayi. . ."
it was a gentle waltz, and his quiet tenor carried gently across the stream, borne on the soft afternoon breeze. he had so often found himself alone with just his thoughts and voice, and ended up singing his way through his travels up and down the coast.
he rolled onto his side, regarding dawn curiously. as young as she was--grayday couldn't have been more than a year or so older than himself--she carried herself well, like a seasoned adult. and she had been happy to see him approach, which was really more than half the early battle.
"sorry," he apologized for his warbling, which had come without his consciously willing it. "i've spent a lot of my life alone. i'm not used to having friends around all the time to see all my craziness in action."
sorry for the crappy post x( feeling meh with writing today but wanted to respond
feeling sheepish, he replied, "you know, i don't know what it's called. it was my mother's tongue, the one i grew up with for the first few months of my life. my uncle taught me the song." he laughed. "i didn't know it was a foreign language until i was out on my own and realized that everyone else was speaking a different language, your language."
aditya smiled at dawn. "so you're grayday's daughter. does this mean you'll get to boss me around whenever you take over from him?"
she had beautiful eyes, bronze and gold. they were very direct, as well. he found himself mesmerized as he stared back at her.
he smiled. "aditya. she once told me that it was another name for the sun." frowning slightly, he added, so as to illustrate further, "the sun personified. like a god, of sorts." he broke into a grin again. "but you don't have to bow down to me or anything like that. actually, both our names have to do with the sun. that's interesting!"
aditya saw her rip her gaze away from his, seemingly in embarrassment. he resisted the urge to cringe at his own forward behavior. he knew well he could be a bit. . .well, intense. and he sought to remedy that. his mother had been dramatic, though, and the friends he had made had given him a flair for intensity and theatre.
"you're doing well already, though we've got to get you healed up first," he replied, nodding at her paw. "then you can lead us into any hunt or battle you set your mind to. you know i'll follow you down the path of glory." he stirred the surface of the water with one of his own paws, enjoying the way it swirled out in little ripples growing calmer as they retreated. it was a very clear stream; you could see down to the bottom, the small gray rocks and tiny fish flitting about.
"usha," he said suddenly, looking back up at her. "that's your name in my tongue. maybe that's what i'll call you, for fun. though i think your given name is even prettier," he added, giving her a sweet look.
his golden eyes creased into slits with his smile at her words. not that it hurts my eyes to look at you. well, and if it truly were the opposite, then he welcomed her looking at him for as long as she pleased. forever could suffice.
she mentioned her mother, her face impassive. adi had noticed the lack of a matriarch, a female counterpart to grayday. he wondered briefly where she had gone. it was not a question he would bring up to dawn, though. he knew well the wounds left behind from mothers who chose to vanish. but still. . .he wondered.
"ordinary, yes. quite simple. but the simple, ordinary things are usually the most beautiful," he pointed out, giving her a kind look. he pointed his nose toward the horizon. "we've all seen sunrises, right? they're gorgeous. all those colors. and they're profound--a rebirth. every day."
he canted his head to one side, gazing directly at her. seized by a sudden impulse, he asked, "what do you want from life?" in case this short query was too intense by itself, adi added, "i mean, you're being groomed to lead. that's quite clear. but what do you want? who do you want to be?"
he felt a pang at her tale. he had noticed the absence of a matriarch in the morningside pack, but had said nothing of it, presuming grayday's mate--or mates, in this instance--was simply dead. to have left was unforgivable.
"i. . .i'm sorry, dawn," he responded, for once at a momentary loss for words. "no mother should leave their children." he paused for a moment, not knowing if he should continue. to open up old wounds was never a good idea, but he thought he must, in this scenario.
"my mother left me, too," aditya said, eyes closing in remembrance of that warm spring morning, the air heavy with the songs of birds and buzzing of insects. "i woke up one day and she was missing from the den. i never saw her again. if she was dead. . .i never found her body." he opened his eyes, looking at dawn. "i was weaned, old enough to care for myself. but that didn't make it any less painful."
and dawn, too, spoke of the uncertainty that had plagued him for so long. to not know your identity, your exact role, in the world was not a crime--far from it--but it was something to be bothered by. nevertheless, he pressed his muzzle against her shoulder in sympathy.
"dawn, i am older than you by more than a few seasons, and i still don't know what i want," he murmured, grinning against her pelt. he pulled back and gave her a kind look. "you know that you want to be a leader, someone to depend upon. that, i think, is enough."