Lion Head Mesa Blue Light

Machi’s expression softened, though sorrow—and a faint flare of paternal anger—lingered in the set of his jaw and the faint crease between his brows. She was so young—barely a tick in the grand expanse of time. A pup still meant for mischief and laughter, for learning the names of constellations, chasing rabbits, and discovering the mysteries of the world.

Not for scars.
Not for war.

It was a bitter thought—one that settled uncomfortably in his chest as he pulled her close again, his hold firm but infinitely gentle.

Safiya, he began, voice low, leaning back just enough to catch her gaze, his opal eyes searching her singular one. How could she still burn so fiercely after everything? His lips quirked faintly—a sad, fleeting smile.

You are strong, my little mazoi, stronger than most ever dream to be. One of the bravest souls I’ve had the privilege to know—and gods above, I am so, so proud of you. His throat tightened, and he took her paw into his own. But you are also a child. And that is no sin. It is not a weight you must carry, nor a failing to be mended. It is simply what you are, and it is a gift.

There was never a second, not even the briefest flicker, where I blamed you, Safiya. This— he gestured faintly, encompassing the wounds, the heartache, the grief—the cruelty of what had befallen them both, —this is the fault of the animals who dared to harm us. Of the coward who twisted your kindness into an opportunity for violence. Not yours. Never yours.

A breath escaped him, curling like smoke into the autumn air. The faintest hint of a genuine smile touched his lips now, fragile but real. Eset took it upon herself to find me, and between her stubbornness and my uncanny knack for survival, I am here now. I'm home, and you are safe, Machi said, his voice steady, and that, my dear, is all that matters to me.