Chapter Text
“No.”
The word rang in his ears, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her correctly. “No?”
Rosh stared at him. “No,” she repeated. “I said ‘no.’ No to mating, no to joining your clan. ‘No.’”
With slightly narrowed eyes, Thur stared at the woman in front of him as he allowed her answer to roll around in his head like rocks in a hand-crafted basket. She’d rejected him in front of her entire clan—and in front of some of his own clan who’d accompanied him, as well—despite the fact he’d brought her gifts in exchange for her agreement to becoming his mate. He’d brought ripe fruit picked from bushes, meat that would surely feed her clan for days, and even fine pelts of animals he’d hunted down and skinned himself. And yet, she’d still rejected him.
“Why?”
“You’re a boy,” she replied. “Your clan does this all for you.” Her daughter nestled into her arms. “I have a child to follow me. I don’t need another.”
His jaw tensed as he tipped his chin up, the feeling of rage boiling deep in his gut at the insult of calling him a child. And perhaps the worst part was how she accused him of using his own people to do his personal bidding to impress a woman he wanted to take as his mate, as if he were incapable of doing everything himself.
“The only part my clan was involved in was helping me carry these gifts for you in exchange for you becoming my mate. I take care of my people just as I’d take care of you—” his eyes dropped to the child in her arms, “—And your child. My clan trusts me to provide for them.”
Of course he would say that. The Wing clan revered this man like some sort of demigod to their numbers, all because he was of some great warrior’s bloodline.
“My answer hasn’t changed,” she said, shifting a little so that her daughter was on her hip, facing away from Thur.
He grunted in disappointment. Rosh was stubborn, it seemed, but that was fine. He’d eventually get what he wanted because he was a determined man who worked hard toward his goals, and now that he had his sights set on the leader of the Star Clan, she was his next objective. Thur had a bloodline to continue, after all.
“For now, it is,” he conceded. A small curve lifted into his left cheek before he turned his back to her, leaving her in peace for the time being.
She stared at his back, her brows furrowing in suspicion. Rosh had no intention of simply rolling over and letting this boy claim her. From everything the other tribes had whispered, he sat in his village and sent out his people to forage. She would not mate herself to a man with so little ability of his own. And there was no way to verify his claims of skill - his clan would have vouched for him, and given how little she knew or trusted them, theirs was not a word that she could trust. Not yet.
Even if he was handsome.
As Thur left the Star Clan village, receiving looks from the people of Rosh’s clan while those from his own who’d accompanied him followed close behind, he kept his chin up regardless of the expressions that were thrown his way. Surely her people were unhappy with his presence, but it mattered not because he would convince her to accept his proposal one way or another—and if that meant finding more gifts for her that displayed his skill and determination, then so be it.
There was a particularly vicious jaguar that’d been roaming the area not far from where his tribe lived, having claimed its home in the nearby forest, which made it a formidable opponent to track and hunt to claim its meat and skin, which meant he could also present Rosh with its pelt. And he’d bring her other pelts, as well—skins that were large enough to keep those in her tribe warm during cold nights and winters, such as those from wolves and deer. He might even bring her weapons she could use to fend off invaders, like the spears his clan had perfected with sharp tips dipped in a liquified version of a poisonous plant. Then again, she might use them on him, so perhaps not.
Regardless, after he presented her with the jaguar pelt, she certainly wouldn’t be able to reject his offer.
Rosh rubbed her eyes, trying to keep from sighing.
It seemed word had gotten out that there were other clans trying to get her to mate with them. The Blood tribe had evidently decided it was their turn. They didn’t even send her supposed mate with them - maybe they knew she wouldn’t have liked them. Instead, they sent a man with grey eyes, black paint smeared around them, and panther pelts cloaking his back. He didn’t even bring food. Instead, a few nervous-looking men and women shifted behind him.
“The Clan-Father presents you with spare hands to aid you in harvesting and hunting,” the grey-eyed man said, “if you will accept his offer to mate.”
Rosh looked over at them. None of them would meet her gaze. “I don’t need extra mouths to feed,” she replied. “Or clan members who were forced out of their clan. Take them back to your Father and tell him to offer something else.”
The man’s brows furrowed, but he nodded, bowing to her before he turned and left without a word. The nervous tribals followed behind him. When they were out of earshot, Rosh let out the sigh that she had been holding in since they had opened the gate to the Blood Clan’s party.
But Thur arrived just as the opposing clan’s tribe members turned and started leaving, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the man who seemed to be leading the group. He gave him a once-over before flicking his gaze to Rosh, one eyebrow cocked up and a slightly irritated look on his face as he approached where she stood and dropped the jaguar pelt he’d had on his shoulder at her feet. A few of his own tribe members followed behind him, carrying other goods gathered that were to be gifted to her and her clan, but Thur was the one who carried the main prize.
“What is the Blood Tribe doing here?” he questioned, his tone more demanding an answer than requesting one as he glanced back at their retreating forms.
“Same as you, offering tribute in exchange for mating,” she replied. “Whoever I mate with is hardly your business.”
She recognised that pelt. A few of her best hunters had died trying to claim it for themselves. And now he threw it down like he could trick her into thinking he killed it himself.
“What have you got now?” she asked, crossing her arms. She hadn’t wanted to bring Nila out with the Blood Tribe here. They unsettled her.
While the Wing Clan leader enjoyed challenges, Rosh was a challenge all on her own, and he certainly didn’t need anyone else setting their sights on her, so the revelation of others seeking her as a mate didn’t exactly make him happy. He couldn’t keep himself from grunting in displeasure.
“They’re not worth your time,” he grumbled, completely ignoring the fact she’d said it was none of his business—because, to him, it was his business when she’d eventually become his mate.
But he stood proudly over the pelt he’d dropped in front of her, his chest slightly puffed out and his chin tipped up in a silent boast of his achievement. She could pretend she didn’t know what the beast he presented her with was, but he knew she did—every tribe within a certain radius knew of the jaguar that stalked lone clan members and disappeared with children in the night. “A beast that is no longer a problem,” he finally answered while stepping around the pelt, trying to move a bit closer to her.
Rosh pulled her knife from her hip, glaring at him warningly. “You stay there.”
He held his hands up, palms facing her, as he froze in his step, but his eyes remained on her while his chin dipped. “I’ve brought you it’s pelt after I hunted it down myself. You know I can provide for you. I can take care of you.”
Rosh bared her teeth. “You really think I believe you hunted that alone? You’re either stupid or a liar.” She took a step away from the man. “I don’t need either. And certainly not to mate with.” She gestured to the pelt. “I don’t need gifts. I need proof. And a dead animal you could have killed with your clan proves nothing.”
An eyebrow cocked up. “So, what, you wish to join me on a hunt? To see me in action?”
Rosh snorted. “I have no intention of doing so only to be stolen away. I’m no fool.”
Thur hummed, his eyes glancing her over momentarily. “If I wanted to steal you from your clan, I would have done it already. I certainly have the fighters to do so; or I could have just snuck in here and taken you in your sleep.” His arms had fallen back to his sides again but he remained where he was.
Taken her in her sleep. Rosh bristled. There was something about the way he said that. It made her… she exhaled heavily, one hand on her hip. The other was clutched around the knife still. “Not fool enough to waste lives over one woman,” she pointed out. “But stubborn. Determined.” She paused. “Rather no one than you, but rather you than the Blood Tribe.” Rosh slipped the knife back into its sheath. “Go home. I will think of something. Come back in a few days.”
Thur certainly noticed the change—it’d gone from entirely hostile to… something else. Something less aggressive but still not entirely welcoming. He kept track of where her knife was even though she didn’t seem to be actively threatening to slice his throat anymore, but even as the blade was sheathed, he knew it’d only take a matter of seconds to remedy that and shove it straight into his back.
But she conceded—sort of. He was told to leave and return in a few days as she thought of something, and her words only brought a wide, lopsided grin to his face that upturned more on his left cheek than his right.
“I am the best option you have for a mate. We will have strong, healthy children together that will pass on both my bloodline and yours, and I will take care of you—“ he took half a step closer, but no more, “—In more ways than just surviving and providing.”
Rosh put a hand on her knife. “My no can still be final,” she warned. “Do not test me.”
His hands raised again, palms facing her like before as he started stepping back, but his grin never faltered. “Three sunsets,” he said as he gave her another quick look over. With that, Thur turned and started leaving as she’d ordered him to.
Rosh didn’t wait for him to go before she was heading back to her tent, already thinking about what she could do. “Dea,” she called, knowing her shadow would be there in moments.
“Chief,” the red-headed man replied. “You need me?”
Rosh closed the flap of her tent. “You saw that. How do I know he isn’t a lying fool of a boy trying to claim more than he’s capable of protecting?”
Dea crossed his arms. “He offered to show you his hunting. You won’t do it?”
Rosh shook her head. “Too easy to be stolen. I need to know I’m safe. But I need to know he’s no liar too.”
Dea nodded. “I can watch him,” he offered. “See if your pest is as good as he says he is.”
Rosh looked up at him. “What if he sees you? He might kill you.”
Dea laughed. “Chief, no one’s ever seen me.”
Rosh’s brow rose. “I saw you.”
Dea shrugged. “Never said I was perfect. But I’m with you. Let me spy. You stay here and be safe. When I know enough, I’ll come tell you. Either he’s false, or he’s true.”
“Chief,” a guard called through the door, “the Wing clan left you gifts.”
Rosh sighed. “Yes, I know.”
“No, chief, they left you more.”
Rosh pinned up the tent flap and stepped outside. One of the guards who had brought Thur into the camp was waiting, carrying two spears. “He says these are yours,” the guard told her.
Blinking, she took hold of one. They were strong, beautifully balanced. “One of his clan knows how to make good weapons, it seems,” she murmured.
“Next he’ll come and say he made them,” Dea chuckled. “When shall I go?”
Rosh ran her hand along the spear. “You always go when you want.”
He hummed. “True. See you in two sunrises, chief.”
She watched Dea disappear out of the gate, into the forests, and bit her lip, still clutching the spear. Stars, she missed being outside the camp…
Upon arriving back at the Wing Clan camp, Thur’s irritation had returned since there had been plenty of time to think during the walk home. He was greeted by his tribe as he made his way through the village, heading toward the cave in the back that his tent was in, and mostly nodded or gave quiet greetings in return to those who’d addressed him first. But upon reaching his destination, he was approached by someone in his tribe whom he trusted with his life on every level.
“Thur,” Danse greeted as the taller man trailed after the clan leader; Thur only grunted in acknowledgment. “Did she reject you again?”
Again. Again. A sour look was shot to his friend but he didn’t dare grace him with an answer.
“So, that’s a ‘yes,’ then?”
They entered the cave and the clan leader rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to rid himself of the oncoming headache that was due to his shortening fuse. “It is a ‘maybe’ now,” he corrected.
“Oh. Well, that’s an improvement.”
“She was approached by the Blood Tribe. I suppose their leader—the… Chief-Father, or Clan-Father, or whatever it is they call him—proposed she be his mate, but I didn’t see him there, just a handful of his tribe members.” His arms crossed over his chest as he stood in the entrance of the cave while gazing out at the village his people had worked hard to build.
“Do you think they’re going to be a problem? Might she choose him?” his friend asked.
Thur was ready to throw Danse out of the cave as he spun around to face the filter-lacking man. “Have you no faith in me? In my abilities to persuade her to be my mate? To show her I am worthy and capable?”
“Of course I do, Thur. But it seems you’re the one who is worried.”
The Wing Clan leader flubbed a bit before finally huffing in irritation and turning back around. “It matters not. She’s requested me back in three sunsets, and until then, I have a beast to hunt.”
Danse hummed. “Are you sure she’s worth all this? There are plenty of women you can mate—“
The look Thur shot the older man was one of warning. “Yes, I am sure. She is beautiful and willful and has already had one healthy child. She can birth more—for me.”
His friend seemed unconvinced. “You’re going through an awful lot of trouble based on assumptions and, from the way you’ve described her, she doesn’t seem to be interested in you.”
Thur’s jaw tensed and his teeth ground together. “She is. And if she’s not, she will be. I’ll have her as my mate soon enough because that’s exactly where she’ll want to be: by my side.” And beneath me, he thought.
The sun dawned the next day, and Dea had been waiting an hour before it, watching for the chieftain. Thur had returned to the village in a foul mood yesterday, and hadn’t come outside since. So Dea kept low, his hair smeared with mud and grass to disguise the vibrant red, and waited, hoping his knees wouldn’t cramp.
It wasn’t long after dawn broke that Thur was leaving camp by himself, a bow strapped to his back with arrows in the makeshift quiver along with three spears in hand. He headed west, in the direction of where a majority of the bear population resided, with one goal in mind: get a fresh pelt for Rosh.
Dea slipped through the undergrowth, keeping his eye on Thur, pausing only briefly to scan the area for danger. This close to the village, there was unlikely to be much danger - the Wing clan had certainly seen to that. But nevertheless, it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
The clan leader walked for some time before a prickling sensation on the back of his neck alerted him of something—a feeling that told him not whether danger was nearby, but that eyes were upon him. Thur found himself stopping in his tracks, brows furrowing as he gazed around, searching the brush for anyone or anything that might be near.
Dea dropped his head, sinking down into the foliage. He was good. Most people didn’t even know he was watching them. Perhaps Thur wasn’t all talk.
He scanned the area for a few moments longer before finally turning back around and continuing on his path. Soon enough, he was entering bear territory, his eyes flicking from the ground to the trees to the path ahead of him until his gaze settled on something nearby and he approached. The Wing Clan leader ran his fingers over the bark on a tree where claw marks had scratched at it, showing a clear climb up the trunk from an extremely large predator. Dea followed at a distance.
Dropping his attention to the ground again, he looked around for footprints, fur, broken sticks, anything that might help him track a beast that large, and the moment he spotted a barely-visible footprint that was hidden in the grass, he knew he’d found his mark.
Now for the important part. Dea needed to make sure he got close enough to ensure Thur was the one to hunt the bear, yet not too close that either giant hairy creature would spot him and kill him for coming in range. No point in making sure Rosh was safe only to end up getting killed in the process.
Thur tracked the beast, keeping his steps silent as he moved, his body somewhat low to the ground. It hadn’t been too long ago that the bear was nearby, the footprint fairly fresh in the damp mud. And before he knew it, he was coming upon the creature, its large body lounging in the grass, laying on its back, eating bugs from a small log it had turned upside down and stuck it’s snout into. Dea slipped behind a nearby tree, and watched.
The angle was difficult since the bear had its face mostly in the log, and Thur knew if he struck anywhere else but its throat or head that he’d not be doing too much damage—the beasts were hundreds of pounds of fat, after all. Thus, the predicament he found himself in meant he needed to draw it out. Removing the bow from his back, an arrow followed soon after and was notched in place while he steadied his aim.
Every possibility of how the bear might react to a noise went through his mind; each direction it might move, emotional reaction it might have, and attack it may respond with. Of course, the possibilities were endless, but he made his best tactical assumption on what the creature would do and pulled his arrow back before letting out a sharp whistle.
But the problem with animals was that they weren’t tactical. They were unpredictable.
The bear froze for a moment before trying to shove the log off its face, only to struggle with it a few times until it was finally free. And once its eyes turned to Thur, there was nothing but rage in them. The beast rolled onto its side and stood. And then, with a thunderous roar, it charged.
Thur released his arrow but it hit the bear in the shoulder, only garnering a grunt from the creature. Arrows were no good. He dropped his bow and grabbed one of the spears he’d leaned against the tree beside him, pulling his arm back and waiting until the bear was close enough before he launched it forward. The sharp tip of the weapon pierced its jaw, but the second spear that was thrown immediately after the first landed right between the eyes—and the bear collapsed, sliding across the ground as it went down.
Dea stifled a groan. If Rosh still didn’t want the man, well… he might not be much use as a mate, but he would certainly enjoy relieving him of that stress…
Thur picked his bow up and returned it to his back, then grabbed the remaining spear before approaching the dead bear. The beast was huge—much larger than he’d expected it to be—so he’d have have a hell of a time carrying the pelt back. But for Rosh, it’d be worth it.
Unsheathing the knife at his hip, the Wing Clan leader went on to relieve the bear of its skin.
Dea had seen enough. The man was more than just talk. Thur paused again, this time while he was slicing down the beast’s belly, his entire body freezing as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled just like before. Without moving any other part of his body, he raised his eyes to look around in front of him, gazing at the trees and brush to see if someone or something was there again. But when he saw no one, frustration washed over him before he went back to skinning his kill.
Dea fell flat to avoid Thur’s gaze from landing on him, and praying that the hunter was too busy to have noticed him. All right. This might take longer than usual to get out of here…
Dea returned within the two sunrises. His face was irritating because he did not have an expression. And Rosh wanted to know, now, if Thur was worthy of the claims he made.
“Well?” she finally asked, when Dea had been silent for too long.
A grin split his face. She rolled her eyes.
“Clan Wing’s chief can do what he says he can do,” he told her. “And he’s clearly invested in proving that. He fought a bear.”
Her brows raised. “So a fool, but not a liar.”
Dea shook his head. “Not a liar. So, when he comes back, what will your answer be?”
Rosh paused. She’d had two days to think this over. “I won’t be here,” she admitted.
Dea blinked. “No?”
“I’m… going to be out hunting,” she said. “And you can tell Thur that.”
He crossed his arms. “You want to keep the chief of the Wing Clan waiting,” he said.
She bit her lip. “He won’t wait,” she pointed out. “If I’m out of the camp, he’ll come looking for me, or do you not think he will?”
Dea chuckled. “You want him to find you, chief?”
She shrugged, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “If he can. It’s another test for him. To see if he can track me. I won’t make it easy.”
“Understood, chief.” He grinned. “I’ll go tell the gate guards what to say when Thur comes back to present his new gift for you.”
Rosh sighed. “I would just… like a mate that isn’t only doing this to have children. I want what I had. I won’t accept anything less.”
“But if he’s fun, that would be good too,” Dea teased.
She blushed. “Yes,” she murmured. “It would. I want… it’s been so long since I’ve been able to want. I love this tribe, but…”
He put his hands up. “No judgement here. I’ve seen Thur fight. It makes the body hot.”
Rosh glared at him weakly. “I will not share him with you.”
Dea snorted. “He’s all yours, chief. Promise.”
The thought of Thur being all hers was just as Dea said. Heat rushed through her. She stood, reaching for one of the spears Thur had left her. “I’m going hunting,” she told Dea. “If Thur finds me… he finds me. If he cannot… I might have to set him another task.”
The bear pelt was heavy. A couple hundred pounds, maybe, and Thur was not exactly enthused to carry it on his shoulder the entire way from the place he’d skinned it back to his village, and then from his village to Rosh’s. But he did what he had to do and was soon striding up to the Star Clan village gate, though this time he was alone rather than bringing other tribe members with him.
“I’m here to see your chief,” he announced to the guard at the gate.
The guard looked him over. “She’s not here,” he replied.
Thur cocked one eyebrow up. He’d never known her to leave her village but that likely wasn’t something they’d let other clans know about. “Why not? Where is she?”
“Hunting,” the guard told him. “She comes back when she pleases. And since you killed that beast, nobody was worried about her going alone.”
He reached his free hand up and scratched at his beard, thinking. “Which direction did she go hunting?”
There was a shrug. “Usually south, and then a little east.”
“Very well,” Thur grunted before dropping the bear pelt on the ground at the guard’s feet. “Be sure this gets to her tent.” He didn’t know if the guard could even pick up the pelt, but it didn’t matter to him at that point. “I would do it myself, but I already know you won't let me in without her there. Besides, I have a chief to hunt.”
But just as he turned and began to head near the edge of the village that Rosh likely would have left from, he paused in his steps as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled just like they had when he was hunting the bear. Someone was watching him. Again. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked around, trying to spot where the peering stare was coming from. And just like the last two times, he saw nothing; a low noise of irritation rumbled from his throat before he continued.
Finding tracks Rosh left wasn’t terribly easy; she was light on her feet and stealthy, which meant she didn’t leave much evidence behind for him to follow. Nevertheless, he found what small amount of a trail she did leave behind and descended upon it like a hawk on its dinner, tracking her for as long as it took until he found her.
She’d taken a shortcut through some parts of the trees, heading down towards the lake. A few gently disturbed bushes were all the evidence he had to go on. A few patches where berries had been snagged instead of hanging from branches.
It didn’t surprise him to find her near water as she’d likely stopped to take a drink while hunting. She was kneeling near the edge as he approached, quietly leaving the tree line from behind her, his body crouched low to the ground and feet carefully stepping as he drew closer. Thur unsheathed the knife from his hip, holding it tightly in his hand, and just as he got close enough—right behind her—he pounced.
He ended up on his knees behind Rosh so as to be at her level, his much larger body pressed against hers, chest flush with her back. The knife in his hand was immediately at her throat and the side of his face was pressed to hers opposite the weapon. He wrapped his free arm around her torso, caging in her arms and body as he purred in her ear.
“Mine.”