I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory
He’s dozing, pleasant dreams flashing behind closed eyes even as the wildflowers that sit atop the tall grasses tickle his belly. His dreams are full of pleasant wonder – because he’s still not sure how any of this happened. Ryan hadn’t known he even had family left in Beqanna, but somehow he’d stumbled across his cousin, the daughter of an uncle he’d never met, here in this beautiful land. Even more wondrous, both of the mares who hold his heart had found him, and joined him here. Now Tickaani and Keeper’s children - Ryan’s children - play safely amongst the fields and streams alongside his cousin’s young daughter Noma.
The stallion blinks sleepily awake at Tickaani’s touch, glancing at her with question in his eyes, but her message is clear enough. He shifts and turns his head, to where Noma stands quietly at the edge of the water, peering intently into the liquid’s surface. She’s slightly older than Mikael and Fiadh, a yearling, but she has been joyful to have playmates and gentle with her cousins.
Ryan spots his son slightly faster than his mother or his aunt might, but only because Mikael inherited his color-changing abilities from his father, and Ryan from his mother, and he had played similar games as a youth himself. He hums in quiet appreciation, the cat coiled inside him all the time quite appreciative of offspring’s growing skill in subterfuge. He might not have the easy defenses that Ryan, Keeper, and Fiadh have, but he will not be defenseless.
Because sometimes the dreams are not as nice as today’s had been. Sometimes, Ryan has nightmares about what Noah had told them of her life – that her father his uncle had been murdered to try and destroy Beqanna, to unleash the plague that he remembers vaguely. Ryan had been little more than a nomad then, a wandered existing almost entirely as a silent big cat, but he remembers the taste of fear on those whose paths he had crossed. He does not wish his children to ever see such a day, but if such a day were to come he wants them to be strong and smart and loyal to each other.
He glances back at Tick, at Keeper, a laugh in his eyes at the antics of the children, but a look from one of them makes him aware that he has seen only two children about to clash at the water’s edge. Where is the third cub? Ryan lifts curious green eyes back to the water’s edge and gives a sweeping inspection of their surroundings…. ah. There. Fiadh is also creeping through the grass, her shifter form almost as big as her brother, on a path to intercept. He stays quiet to see what will happen, but can’t resist leaning into Tick, and reaching out to touch Keeper’s shoulder with his golden nose. Fiadh is clearly waiting to try and pounce on her brother when Mikael tries to catch their cousin unawares – and Ryan is very interested to see who will end up with the upper hand. Hoof. Paw.
Ryan
( I love only that which they defend. )