Chapter 1
#2 of The Mating Season: The Years Inbetween
Chapter 1
With the day's exercises complete, eight-year-old Kilyan stood proud before his father, his thin chest out, his chin lifted. Dusk was rolling across the sky, and all around, fathers and their pups were rolling out bedrolls and preparing to sleep. The fire was burning low in the fire pit, and some fathers were still sitting around it with their sons, sharing ghost stories, anecdotes of their first camping trips with their fathers, or else just sharing their wisdom.
This yearly camping trip was something of a tradition in the summer village. Each year at the end of summer, fathers would take their young sons into the forest and teach them survival skills. Their sons would learn the dangers of the northern forest and how to survive them. But it was more than that. It was also a chance for fathers - who were usually so busy protecting the village - to bond with their sons.
Kilyan was sad to realize this night was the last night. After tonight, they would pack up camp and the group would return to the village in the morning. He loved spending time with Kel and wished it could go on forever. He had done Kel very proud today: he caught the most fish at the river and beat the other boys in a race. Kel was beaming when he came running up to him at the end of the race, all breathless, bright-eyed, and panting. He would never forget how his father squatted down and held out his arms. Kilyan threw himself in those arms, and when Kel had lifted him up into the air, he kissed Kilyan on the cheek! Kilyan had been embarrassed and happy all at once: Kel never kissed him on the cheek!
"You did well today, my son," Kel said as darkness fell on the forest.
They were standing near their bedrolls, and Kel was rummaging in his traveling pack. He had promised to give Kilyan something at the end of the camping trip, and Kilyan stood fidgeting with anticipation. He hoped it was a knife . . . or maybe two knives!
When Kel turned to Kilyan, he was holding a thick braid of hemp cord, to which had been woven beads and dark brown feathers. Kilyan swelled with pride as his father smiled and tied it on his skinny upper arm: his first feathered talisman!
Such talismans were given to sons by their fathers, as symbols of love and pride. Sometimes they were passed down through the generations as family heirlooms. Boys without fathers received them from other male relatives: grandfathers, uncles, older brothers. The love and pride instilled in the talismans by their creators were said to protect the male throughout his life. This one Kel had made especially for his son, and Kilyan could not have been more proud.
Kel watched his son's swelling chest in amusement. "You have done your father proud. Wear it well, my son."
Kilyan nodded, making his face hard and solemn as he peered into the distance. But his ears pricked forward when the feathered talisman on his arm suddenly slid down to his wrist. Kel slid it back up again. It slid back down.
Kilyan's ears flattened. He was too small and scrawny to fit the talisman!
Seeing the crestfallen look on his son's face, Kel laughed and ruffled Kilyan's mane. "Don't worry about it, pup. You will grow into it. See how it can adjust?" He turned the band around so that Kilyan could see. "Just hold on to it, and I promise, one day it will be so tight on your arm, you'll want to tear it off!"
Kilyan grinned up at his father. He could see Kel's own feathered talisman, which his father Gurwin had given to him. It clung tight to the bulging muscles of Kel's upper arm, and it did indeed look a bit uncomfortable. Kilyan lifted his arm and flexed his bicep. He was proud when his skinny muscle made the talisman suddenly clench tight like his father's.
"That's my boy," laughed Kel. "Now let's get some rest. We leave in the morning."
Kilyan nodded and climbed into his bedroll. "Yes, Father!"
All around camp, other fathers and sons were going to bed. Some sat beside the fire still, their sons sleeping in their arms as they talked in deep basses. A few fathers patrolled the camp with their spears, though everyone knew lone wolves would not dare attack so large a group of warriors. There were at least twenty fathers and twice the amount of sons on that summer's camping trip. There were even a few boys older than Kilyan, fifteen and sixteen, who were there with younger brothers. Attacking such a group would have been foolish. But according to Yzlo, foolishness was not beyond the winter wolves.
Yzlo was the father of Kilyan's best friend Keeno. Lying on his bedroll, Kilyan knew that Keeno was somewhere in the camp with Yzlo, perhaps receiving his own feathered talisman. Kilyan smiled. He couldn't wait until they could show each other their talismans! He looked over at Kel in the darkness. His father's fur was glossy black, and for this reason, Kilyan would hardly have been able to see him if his green eyes weren't gleaming. Kel was on his back, one arm behind his head, looking through the dark canopy of leaves at the stars.
"Dad?" Kilyan whispered.
"What is it, my son?"
Kilyan's ears pricked forward. Kel's voice was hoarse!
"Dad! What is it!" Kilyan scrambled from his bedroll, and without hesitating, straddled his father and peered into his face. Kilyan gasped: Kel's eyes were glistening with tears! He touched his father's cheek anxiously.
Kel smiled at his little son's concern. He caught Kilyan's small paw and squeezed it. "Nothing is the matter, my son. Go back to bed."
Kilyan's ears flattened. "Dad . . . you're crying."
Kel sighed in the darkness. "I was thinking of your grandfather."
Kilyan waited. He had no intention of going back to bed when his father was crying. "What's the matter, Dad?" he said when Kel did not elaborate. "Please, tell me . . ." He lay on Kel's hard chest and closed his eyes. Kel was so big and strong. He hoped that one day he would be as big and strong. He already had his father's black fur and green eyes. And he already tried hard to imitate Kel's serious expressions . . . though Loryn always laughed at him. Loryn would catch him imitating Kel and tell him it was useless: Kilyan had inherited Aliona's spirit. A certain look in Kilyan's eyes had always echoed very strongly of his mother.
Loryn was Lea's father. Kilyan closed his eyes and smiled, thinking of Lea. The last time he'd seen her, she was riding Loryn's shoulders. Loryn had come to bid them farewell at the village gates, and little white Lea had been up on her father's shoulders, playing in his mane. She hardly took notice of anyone else and barely looked at Kilyan, who found himself staring at her absently with his mouth slightly open.
"Wish I had a mini me so I could come," Loryn had said to Kel.
Kel laughed. "Well, you and Kira keep trying. You never know."
Loryn shook his head. "Nah. We decided on one child and here she is!" He bounced little Lea on his broad gray shoulders and she giggled.
The rest of the fathers and sons were bidding their wives and daughters farewell at the gates. Yzlo and Keeno had been there as well, with a misty-eyed Hye fussing over Keeno. Kilyan's mother Aliona had also been there. She fussed over Kilyan, but he hardly noticed as he stared at Lea.
"Close your mouth, turd," Zalia had said and rolled her eyes. Little black Zalia, with big sapphire blue eyes, made a face at Kilyan and hid behind their mother's tail. She was two years younger than Kilyan, and had made a career of annoying him since the moment she could talk.
Kilyan remembered coming back to his senses and scowling at his little sister. "You're just mad that you can't come, Zalia. I'mma call it penis envy for now."
"Kilyan!" Aliona scolded. She pulled the strap on his traveling pack tighter around his shoulder with nimble fingers.
Aliona was a beautiful gray wolf with a generous bosom swathed in a deep blue shawl. The shawl matched her sapphire eyes - which Zalia had inherited - and her long gray mane tumbled past it to the small of her back.
Kilyan flattened his ears under his mother's warning glare and glowered when Zalia stuck out a triumphant pink tongue. But he caught Keeno's eye, and they smiled at each other.
Keeno had taken after his mother Hye. His fur was tan, and a wide white stripe cut up his belly and thin chest. The tip of his tail was white as well, and it twitched irritably when his mother grabbed his face and scrubbed off a bit of dirt.
"Moooom," Keeno moaned, "we're goin' into the forest! Kinda ah lotta dirt there!"
"Dad . . ." present-day Kilyan said through a yawn.
"Where's your talisman? Put it in your traveling pack before you lose it."
"Yes, Father," Kilyan answered dutifully but did not budge. After a while, he said sheepishly, "Dad? I wanna sleep on you . . ."
Kel sighed. He looked at Kilyan, and he could see his father's bright green eyes smiling in the darkness. "You're too big for that, you know it," he said in amusement.
"But you're crying . . ."
Kel frowned. "Don't worry about me. It's my job to worry about you."
"Nuh uh. Mom told me to look after you!"
Kel chuckled, and Kilyan smiled to feel the sound vibrating up from his chest. He pressed his cheek on Kel's hard pectoral and listened with content to the sound of his heart thudding. It seemed as if it had been ages since he'd laid on Kel like this. Once Zalia was born, it was as if she took possession of Kel's belly and chest. She also took over any right Kilyan had to cling to their mother's tail.
"Your grandfather," Kel said at length, "humiliated me on a trip like this."
Kilyan's ears pricked forward and he went very still. It was seldom that Kel ever spoke of Grandfather Gurwin. The two of them were estranged, and Kilyan could only ever remember meeting his grandfather once.
"He made you cry?" Kilyan whispered, concerned.
"He was always . . . very hard on me, Kilyan. I believe in discipline. But sometimes, a father should take the time to play with his children. Tickle them . . . laugh with them . . ." He wriggled a finger in Kilyan's ear that made him giggle. "Love them," Kel whispered to himself.
"Grandpa didn't love you?"
"I think he did. In his way. Now go to sleep, my son. I have patrol tomorrow. Your father needs his rest."
"Yes, Father."
Kilyan closed his eyes. In the silence that followed, he could hear the gentle breathing of sleeping fathers and sons in the camp. The fire was crackling low, a soothing sound that Kilyan had come to associate with safety, content, the warmth of Kel's chest, and the strong musk of Kel's fur. Kel had held him beside such fires in their home when he was smaller. After supper, tiny Kilyan would need winding down. Kel would prepare him for bed with a story. Kilyan always dozed off before the end. He would wake as Kel carried him away from the fire, and smiling sleepily at his father, he would drop off again.
"Dad?" Kilyan whispered after a pause.
Kel yawned. "What is it, son?"
"I love you."
He could hear the smile in his voice when Kel answered, "I love you too, my Kilyan."