Page 17 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
He nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head. Uncleprobably knew about his five-way apprenticeship, and he was tired of explainingit anyhow. So he asked, “You knew them all?”
“The headmen? Yes.”
“They must have looked up to you.”
“No,” said Waaseyaa. “Not all. And not always.”
Mikoto couldn’t imagine it. This person was kind and wiseand generous.
“Some of them were afraid of me. Some of them weredisappointed in me.”
“Why?”
His uncle looked away. “I think … they would have used myyears differently. So instead of seeing me, they saw what I could have been. Orwhat they could have been, if there had been any way to trade places.”
“They were jealous of you?”
“Not really. They were jealous of parts, but not the whole.”Waaseyaa’s smile was small. “And some of them met me during times when I wasunhappy. I am sometimes sad. You understand.”
Mikoto did.
“Some of them got along better with Glint than with me. Or …us.” His gaze settled fondly on his twin, who was chattering softly to Noble.“Not everyone understands. Or accepts.”
“I have always been more comfortable with you than Glint.”As soon as it was out, it felt like a bold confession. Mikoto ducked his head.
“Yes.” Waaseyaa patted his arm. “Glint loves you.”
He grunted.
“It is true. He gave you Noble because he knew you were sad.Puppies are his answer to grief.”
“Has he ever given you a puppy?”
“Many, many times.” Tugging loose the end of his braid, hepassed it to Mikoto.
His breath caught all funny, and his throat began to ache.This was how his uncle had always offered comfort, for everything from bossysisters to bruised knuckles. And once or twice because he’d admitted to nursinga broken heart. Mikoto had never been one to go all weepy, but … that didn’tmean he’d never sought comfort. Or known where to find it.
“Excuse me,” came a voice Mikoto didn’t know. “Sorry tointerrupt.”
A man stood in the door to Waaseyaa’s home, practicallyfilling it. Not quite dog clan stature, but close enough to rest an arm on thelintel as he leaned out. He wore battler colors and radiated competence.
“Can we get your healer back here? Colt Alpenglow?”
Mikoto saw the man notice him. Saw the man dismiss him. Knewwhat that meant among the ranks of battlers. Not a threat. Not a priority.
The man added, “He’s awake.”
For the barest fraction of a moment, Mikoto wanted to drophis uncle’s braid and pretend he was strong or important or immune to theemotions he had no words for. And for a fraction of a moment, he wasdisappointed in himself. Mikoto tightened his grip and wound Uncle’s braidaround his fist, then his wrist. He would not let go. Not now. Not ever.
Waaseyaa accepted that much as he accepted anything. Withoutremark. Yet at this range, and tangled as he was, Mikoto briefly touched a vibrantbond that soared above them, even to the treetop, and deep into the earth, forZisa was well-anchored upon this hill. And Waaseyaa was the beacon set upon it.
All of the sudden, Mikoto registered a deep rattle, and hetensed. The big cat was prowling toward him, all slink and sway. Like a blackpanther, but much larger. And far less threatening, since his alert was a purr.
Mikoto found himself staring into orange eyes.
“His name is Fend,” reminded Uncle in an undertone. Thetoddler in his arms babbled and laughed, clearly happy to see the big cat.
Fend’s broad nose touched Mikoto’s forehead, the lightest oftaps. And then the purring was loud in his ears, for the feline was rubbing hisface against Mikoto’s. Cheek to cheek. First one side, then the other. Over andover, like an affectionate housecat.
