Thanus87

We laid a foot apart from one another, on our backs, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. We hadn’t said a word since we pulled apart and took separate blankets. The silence between us became punctuated with the shout and bicker of the crew outside.

“So. Soccer sounds like it’s going well.” Kiromir tried to make small talk, but I just wanted to hold him again.

“Yep.” I didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t exactly like I’d been told. I expected more… things touching, more moving… mouths in places.

The way Ranna had described things wasn’t like this awkward silent moment.

“Do I apologize?” I really wanted to leave and go take a shower.

“I mean… I think I… Do I need to apologize, too?” Mir sounded shaken and nervous.

“We both—?” I asked. I thought it was just me!

“Ea.” He cleared his throat, an Anil ‘yes’ if I ever heard one.

I let it draw out as long as possible because I didn’t exactly think this would happen. It wasn’t on my long list of fantasies. But then, Mir’s hand pushed up to my side and searched for mine, meeting my fingers with a soft squeeze.

“All things considered, it could have gone much worse,” I pointed out.

He stared at me, cheeks warm. “Before or after we get a shower.”

“What?” I looked over at him strangely.

Kiromir sat up and stretched, tugging at the tie of his wristband with his teeth.

“Aulting?” I shivered as he removed his cuffs, releasing my hand, all the while looking at me with a warm smirk.

He charged his hands with blue fire and brought our blankets together, our hands to one another. We laced our fingers, and I found the energy once more. He boiled with it, filling my tiredness with his abundance.

“Fil mirik,” He whispered to me. ‘Try again.’

I liked when he spoke Anil to me. I enjoyed speaking it back to him. I always felt bigger on the inside any time we spoke Anil.

I liked a lot of things about that night, his desperation, his glorious eyes, the stretch of his body. I enjoyed listening to his noises and playing him like an instrument as he played me in turn. Thirty minutes in, and I still hadn’t gotten him out of his underwear. Every move chafed, but every moment of it I treasured. We couldn’t stop there, not at thirty, not at forty-five, and not at an hour. Still, we came no closer to completing the binding. This part was fun enough—kissing—fires.

“Nier tsus?” I asked him, ‘Haven’t you had enough?’

“Nei pes feter.” ‘Never.’ Kiromir’s voice grumbled low and throaty.

I didn’t think he could have enough, not until the sounds outside reached a cacophonous roar of cheer and excitement. From the sounds of it, far more than our own wanderers and a straggling few songbirds joined in.

Kiromir and I needed to pull ourselves apart, coated in the sheen of ault, and I didn’t want to think about what else. Kiromir shoved his pants back on, and I followed after.

“Shower, then we find them a damn ball.” He demanded.

“Only if I get to shower with you,” I told him and grabbed his bare-chested form.

“Hey! I wash places in there, man!” He swatted me away, and I laughed.

“Yeah, all the places I wanna see!” I teased at him, and he smacked me away a little harder until I stopped laughing.

“Someone’s going to see us.” He whispered, and we managed to get to the showers unharassed.

A small building stretched out with a dozen two-part six-foot by six-foot stalls. We needed a little room to rinse our wings on occasion. The simple design consisted of a changing room, separated by a curtain from the shower, all done in rough cinder block and concrete, no luxuries.

I didn’t think he was ready for it. I barely was. Kiromir hurt and sought comfort, not… what we’d just done. I refused to feel guilty. I did the best I could to find our kids. We’d find them soon, if not tomorrow or the day after. I needed that positivity.

We left the showers cleansed of nine kinds of shame—maybe ten. I lost count. Kiromir looked worried, but he had an agenda. Soccer continued on, and he hoofed it to the recreation areas.

We walked by, and Sorrin sat out on the porch of his home, grinning at us. We stood barefoot, shirtless, fresh, and damp from the showers. I didn’t care if we were kissed and lovebitten.

“Sorrin. You have a soccer ball anywhere?” Kiromir looked irritated.

“Check out in the shed. I think there’s at least a basketball or something.” He shrugged.

“Great, close enough!” We jogged off, and sure to Sorrin’s word, a well-worn soccer ball and a basketball sat off in the corner behind some rakes. Kiromir grabbed the soccer ball and bolted back towards our camp.

Now, for the fun part.

Kiromir approached the still-thriving pile. I saw Krell in there, I thought. Nobody else I knew had that many piercings. Maybe he felt better.

Kiromir shouted. “HEY!” A few eyes cut his direction, and he tossed the ball at the pile.

“Three—two—one.” I counted down, and the fight broke out worse. The fight always got worse before it got better. Someone punched someone in the face while others screamed, caught in leg-locks and dead-winged. Feathers flurried about in plenty.

“Hey! Who bit me?”

“Oh, you’re in for it!”

“SUTZ MIN AL!”

“CHATA!”

The ball slowly rescinded deeper into the pile like quicksand of limbs.

“I got it!” A solid thud of fist to flesh…or foot to flesh.

“Shit!”

People drew out of the pile, finding it too intense. Finally, people grew tired, breaking up, and only the strongest kept going.

“Balester?” I called out. A brown hand ascended from the tangle of limbs, followed by a protectively folded body over the ball.

“AAAAHAHHAA!” Balester shouted.

“Fat chance!” Rehn leaped. He tackled Balester back down, and the two wrenched at one another for the ball until Rehn saw Kiromir there, stone-eyed and stoic.

Balester’s grip slipped, and he fell back with the ball just in time for one of the wanderer women to snatch the ball up with a whoop of glee.

Balester stood and dusted himself off before giving Rehn a dirty look.

“Alright… Alright…” Rehn slumped himself up and over and stood with a ragged sigh.

“Kiromir. I owe you and your bondmate an apology.” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t sound like he meant it.

“I’d rather have an explanation as to why you let my bondmate go out into the field one-man short on a job rather than put aside fairy tale superstition? Why did I have to chance a loss? Why did one of my kids have to spill wildling blood?” Kiromir went into flock leader mode.

“I said I was sorry. It’s just that everything going on is because of Niala right now,” Rehn avoided eye contact.

“No, everything going on is because my mother got caught playing games with the Grells and bloodlines. Niala just tripped the alarm.” Kiromir folded his arms.

“Miela had a talk with me,” Rehn said. He sounded chided and meek. His eyes averted from mine.

I grabbed Rehn by the back of his neck and pulled him to me. I bent down a little to make eye contact, my golden amber to his silvery ones. “If you have any more reservations about Niala, I’ll hear you out. I can’t make you, and I won’t. She’s the same sweet girl she’s always been, and I never once lied. None of us did. Her silhouette is literally the boogeyman in every wildling tale. No matter how sweet she is, someone is going to react like you. She’s a kid.”

Rehn shoved away from me as his face went surly. “I’ll be up around 6am to meet. So let’s get ours back.” I watched him stalk off and grinned.

“Oh, good grief! You two!” The shrill bark matched with a sharp slap at the back of mine and Kiromir’s heads and a spread of green fire.

“HEY! I was enjoying those! They still stung good.” I turned to glare at Letti.

Kiromir rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, I’m rounding everyone up for a headcount then bed. Wanna take the west side of the camp?” He looked at me apologetically.

“Sure. Meet you here in ten.” We went our separate ways, and I couldn’t get the thought of replacing those marks out of my head.