Page 34 of Clan and Crave

Lately, Erybet had started asking Sletranquestions about himself as well. The group commander was makingmore visits to the training and drill fields when Sletran’s squador trainees were scheduled for exercises. Despite the fact theywere superior and underling…and they certainly observed the properverbal protocols…Erybet’s demeanor had assumed a casualness missingbefore. He didn’t always steer the conversation to Conyodeither.

Sletran wondered at the rapport he feltbuilding between him and the Dramok, but he had yet to mention itto Conyod. He had too much fun kidding his lover when it came tothe mutual interest that had sprung up between him and Erybet.

If it so happened his commanding officerfound Sletran interesting as well, he was willing to explore thepossibilities. He respected the Dramok who’d earned a place in theground troops and had come to enjoy their talks. To look forward tothem.

Yes, he wouldn’t mind it if their camaraderieproved to be more in the long run.

He was teasing Conyod about discoveringErybet’s favorite food on his behalf so the Imdiko could cook thema romantic meal when Dramok Tuher joined them. His gaze was guardedas he glanced at Sletran, but his tone was friendly enough. “NobekSletran, I wonder if you can convince my son to breathe air outsidethis stable? A few seconds each hour when he walks Dresk is hardlyenough.”

“The vet is due any minute,” Conyodprotested.

“I’ll stay and discuss Dresk’s care with thevet. I’ll report every syllable he says when you return. Pleasetake an hour, Conyod. Since Dresk is obviously recovering, you needthe break.”

Sletran could have added his support to thesuggestion, but he feared Tuher would feel he was interfering. Theelder man might be offended if Sletran were the one to convinceConyod.

He was glad he’d kept his mouth shut when hislover sighed. “Fine. I suppose I should be a good host and showSletran what’s changed since his last visit.” Conyod found ameasure of gratitude for the break, if belatedly. “Thank you, myfather.”

“No need to rush back. If you were to go tothe house and take a nap, all the better.”

“Don’t get pushy.” Conyod grinned, and Tuherchuckled.

“I’m a Dramok. You should know by now, pushyis what I do.” His smile followed them as they headed outdoors.

“You could use some sleep,” Sletran observedwhen they were beyond his hearing.

“Don’t you start on me.” Conyod blinked inthe sunlight, which beamed. The fullness of day had dawned.

Sletran was struck by the shouts of boys whohadn’t been there earlier. A number of adolescent Dramoks and someImdikos were racing from a large shuttle to the corral, their facesalight in anticipation. The kestarsh there bugled greetings.“What’s all this?”

“Local kids from town and the surroundingfarms. My parents started a program to teach them to ride andtrack. If anyone goes missing, there’ll be more people to searchand rescue. Extra eyes make a huge difference in suchsituations.”

Sletran didn’t miss the note of darkness inConyod’s tone. He wondered how few trackers there’d been whenHoslek disappeared. It was a question he’d never thought to ask.Judging from Conyod’s expression, it was a question best notvoiced.

He examined the boys, noting their youth andinnocence. Younger than Conyod had been when they’d met. His lovercertainly hadn’t exhibited such open simplicity in Sletran’spresence. It made Sletran’s fierce heart ache, and he wished hecould go to an earlier time and preserve Conyod’s naivety.

The last boy to approach the corral, a youthof about eleven, showed none of the others’ excitement. Sorrowpulsed from the young Dramok, who was perhaps eleven or twelve.Sletran nudged Conyod.

“Not everyone is happy to be here.”

“Flist’s Nobek father recently died fightinga wildfire threatening his family’s farm. Hey! Flist! Yemasel’swaiting for you.” Conyod waved and trotted to the boy. Reachinghim, he lifted the child to his shoulder and bounced him there ashe carried him to the corral. “Yemasel! Look who’s here!”

A dust-brown mare separated herself from theherd and cantered to the pair. Flist hadn’t reacted to Conyod’scheerful greeting, sitting like a limp sack on the Imdiko’s muscledshoulder. However, at Yemasel’s approach, a slight shadow of asmile touched his lips. He reached over the containment field tolet her nuzzle his palm. She stretched her graceful neck and rubbedher nose against his forehead. He closed his eyes, wrapped his armsaround her head, and held on.

Sema zeroed in on them and held out his handsto take Flist from Conyod. “She’s glad you’re here, Flist. Let’sget her ready for you to ride, okay?”

The boy let go reluctantly. He let Sema carryhim to the saddling area. Yemasel dashed ahead and waitedimpatiently for them.

Sletran curled his arm around Conyod when theImdiko returned. “I know the kestarsh are smart, but herunderstanding the boy needs comfort amazes me.”

“His mother brought him yesterday for a solovisit. She told me the ranch is the only place Flist shows any signof life. My parents were glad to accommodate his therapist’srecommendation he ride daily while he adjusts to the loss.”

“Good of them to do so.”

“Yeah, well, we have our share of experiencewhen it comes to such things. It does everyone involved good insome fashion.”

Sletran looked from Flist being set on thekestarsh, the boy’s earlier dull gaze now bright, to the mountainsin the distance. He knew where Conyod’s stare was aimed: thePinnacle, the last place he’d seen Hoslek.

“You haven’t gone there in years,” he saidquietly, wondering if he should speak of it at all.

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