Dragoncrest Cliffs Bichir

The den had been quiet for a short time. Swordfish focused on Quennell’s breathing in order to tell if he had drifted to sleep or not. He believed that the other boy had finally succumb to the drugs.

There was pain in his side that he couldn’t shed. When he lifted his head to look at the gash marks that had been left by the monster, he felt his stomach churn. The edges of the wound had turned a yellow color. He did not know if this meant it was attempting to heal or if he would suffer from infection. The red at the heart of the wounds was still deep – crimson and gory.

Swordfish squinted his eyes, hoping that he might catch @Meerkat nearby. He had slept through most of her visits. The young seafarer wanted to see her, to speak to her. He wanted to apologize.

The hour grew late. After all the excitement of the past few days, Meerkat yearned for peace and quiet. She headed to the roja den, knowing she would find it there. She sensed her mate somewhere nearby, though she hoped he might give her some time to herself. Meerkat sensed her heat was waning anyway.

She plopped down just outside the den’s doorway. She sighed tiredly. She needed some sleep. Meerkat began to inch forward so she could sprawl on her belly there, right across the threshold. The instant her head settled on her outstretched forelegs, though, she heard some slight rustling coming from inside the den.

Fish? she whispered, raising her head.

Ma…

Swordfish’s voice croaked out, froggy and tired. He worried that he might wake Quennell. The other boy already seemed to struggle to find proper rest. The young redtail would not feel good about stirring him. Trying to keep the bear’s eyes from his mind, Swordfish tilted his head to try and get a shot of his mother.

Ya alright?

The words were chopped by a hitch in his throat. Too many hours of sleeping without talking, maybe. Had he screamed when the bear attacked them? Swordfish couldn’t remember any of what he might have done. He just remembered being filled to the brim with terror. And then pain.

That pleading whisper broke Meerkat’s heart. Suddenly she was scuttling into the den like a crab, desperate to be beside her son. Minding his wounds, she curled up as close as she could, licking a soothing stripe between Swordfish’s eyes, up over his brow and forehead.

When she registered his question, Meerkat could only say, Me? She paused for a beat before whispering, I’m just worried about you, Fish. How are you feeling? What do you need?

Her forepaws fluttered toward his wounded flank as if she wanted to touch him but she didn’t. She didn’t want to hurt him by accident. Instead, she bent over him again, grazing her nose gently against the top of his head. She just lingered there, drawing in his living scent, the same one she’d breathed in the day he’d been born from her body.

The worry from his mother could be felt. Guilt swelled within him.

Meerkat didn’t hesitate to ask how he was, if he needed anything. Swordfish blinked at her slowly. He didn’t need his mom running herself tired over him. She needed her rest. She needed some peace. The boy couldn’t stand to be the cause of such woe.

I’m alright, ma. Don’t need nothin’, he assured her.

Silver-flecked eyes searched her face. He had caused this. Swordfish felt his stomach flip with discomfort. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry. He wanted to erase this from their timeline. He would never seek to venture beyond the safety of Sapphique again, he would promise. But the boy did not say any of these things.

He insisted he was alright, that he didn’t need anything. Meerkat leaned back somewhat to better see his face in the dim light of the roja den, her brow knitted. Of course, neither of those things could be true.

You’re not hungry? she pressed. If you don’t want to eat right now, I could just stay here and rest with you, Meerkat added.

He ought to eat to regain his strength. But it was late and she was tired too. She could gather food for him tomorrow. Right now, Meerkat just yearned to hold her son, maybe sing a quiet song to him until he fell back to sleep.

Naw, I ain’t hungry.

Swordfish hated to see her worry. He hated to know that she was there, fretting over his dumb mistakes. The young redtail could feel Quennell shift beside him. He hated that his friend was there, too. They had really gotten messed up. It felt too heavy for his head to hold. Pieces of the trauma had started to spill over the edge, fraying his easy-going ways.

C’mere ma, he asked of her.

I’m sorry.

The weight of his words sat upon his chest, suffocating him.

She did exactly as he asked, curling her body as close to him as physically possible and gingerly resting her head over the slope of his neck. When Fish murmured an apology, Meerkat shushed him with a kiss to the temple.

I’ll sing you to sleep, she whispered into the dark.

A thoughtful silence fell. But it didn’t last long. Meerkat knew exactly what to sing to him: the same verses she had sung to his father on their wedding day.

I have died everyday, waiting for you…
Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years…
I’ll love you for a thousand more.

And all along I believed, I would find you…
Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years…
I’ll love you for a thousand more.

I love you, Swordfish, she finished, breath warming his face, unconditionally. Forever. And always.

Lyrics belong to Christina Perri.

Thank you for this overwhelming pain. :’)

The boy breathed a tired sigh. The warmth offered by his mother was a small comfort in the roja den. Her words pricked at his eyes. He closed them, afraid of making contact with her face, afraid of seeing the emotional damage that their escape from the bear had caused.

Meerkat sang to him. Swordfish clenched his jaw, smothering the welling emotions inside him. He kept his eyes closed, slowing his breathing until he could have been asleep.

And he pretended to be, when his mother leaned in to whisper her love. The boy did not think that he deserved such good things. As a lump gathered in the back of his throat, Swordfish wished that he could tell her he loved her too. He wished that he could tell her about every heavy stone of feeling that he carried around on his back. The young redtail had hidden away so many times that he had never learned how to open himself up.

So, he pretended to sleep and hoped that it would bring his mother peace.