Get your insulin shots ready, because we've got a whole lot of sickly sweet OCC stuff coming up. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I'll get back to some less OCC stuff in the next chapter. *** Waking wasn't as unpleasant as he'd been expecting. A warm fur was bundled next to him on one side and a veritable nest of pillows were on the other, flush against the wall. His chest ached terribly and his lungs burnt as if he'd poured straight whiskey into them but overall, he felt better than before he was attacked.
The last embers of a fire glowed in the hearth, it's thick smoky scent not entirely carried away by the flue. Underneath that smell was a distinct herb that the clan elders had chewed on, and Ratonhnhaké:ton spotted small bunches tied up to dry off a narrow bed built into the wall. There was another one above it - they both had a railing of some sort to stop its occupants from falling; the bottom, a third bed, was on the floor and was lacking in this regard. Access to the top bunk was by the tall ladder leaning against the headboards or by the internal half-balcony that jutted over the fireplace. Ratonhnhaké:ton guessed there was storage above as the ground floor of the cabin was crammed full of more beds; there were seven in all.
It was neat, except for one corner (that smelt familiar but Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn't place it), and dry. His clothes were soaking in several buckets and his weapons systematically laid out to be taken stock of and cleaned. He couldn't place the human scents - he knew them, but they were missing something that would identify them. There was fear (faint, years ago, a first shift? He hadn't realised how long that mark could stay upon a house) but it was mostly happiness and play. One was the strongest, one had been here the longest - had overseen the cabin being built - slept here for more full moons than any of the other seven occupants.
Haytham. Without malice or stress. A strong alpha providing a place of leisure and comfort for his pack. He was in total control of this area.
The fur next to him sighed and a large black and grey head nuzzled onto his shoulder, eyes closed. Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at the wolf (Haytham, it had to be Haytham, it couldn't be anyone else) in shock. He was huge. Even Duncan wasn't this big and he had been a werewolf for a lot longer than the rest of the assassins. Now aware that his father was next to him, Ratonhnhaké:ton went still. He had to get out. Get back to his own pack. His chest throbbed in reply - he wasn't going anywhere.
The wolf opened his eyes in a disapproving manner and made a yowling noise. It almost sounded like 'no' - it probably was. A large paw covered Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes, turning into a human hand, and the bed shifted as Haytham edged off it, padding over to a chest. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't keep his eyes shut. While he took no pleasure from seeing his father naked, he needed to know what he was going up against and that he was not embarrassed by the sight of another man nude.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton, it is rude to stare. Especially if they're not part of your pack and they're getting dressed after a shift," scolded Haytham. "Under the circumstances I will ignore it, but if it happens again I will nip your ear - whether you're injured or not!"
"How did you say that? What are ear nips?" asked Ratonhnhaké:ton and he winced at how hoarse his voice was.
"Your name? You taught me while I was attempting to rejuvenate your fluids. As for ear nips, they're to keep your pack under control. It's protocol discipline."
Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't know werewolves had protocol like that. There was hierarchy, yes, but never as formally acknowledged as this. Still, he did not look away; Haytham was a fast dresser, already to his waistcoat.
"I am sure you have many questions to ask of me, Ratonhnhaké:ton -" It was clear that Haytham enjoyed saying his name now that he knew how. "- and I will answer them in due time. However the most important thing will be to know that you are safe here. As long as you refrain from killing me, I will refrain from smothering you with your pillow."
Haytham tossed a few logs into the fireplace and coaxed it back to life. The room became brighter, not that either of them really needed it, but it was pleasant and required for tea. Ratonhnhaké:ton had a dislike for British tea - too burnt-tasting - and always kept a pouch of it on his belt. Ratonhnhaké:ton watched carefully as Haytham prepared the drink. A cry left his lips as he saw a few drops of black liquid be splashed into his cup.
Sighing (this seemed to be the default gesture for a Haytham not in the middle of a fanatical and pompous rant), Haytham sipped Ratonhnhaké:ton's tea. Paranoia, while it served them well in the field, was truly irritating when attempting to bring one's mortal enemy and child back to full health.
"I would question the sanity of a man who tried to kill an injured man he'd just paid two doctors to treat," murmured Haytham.
Obediently, Ratonhnhaké:ton sipped at the offered cup, his dry throat welcoming the horrible liquid (British tea! Urgh), spilling a bit down his chin as Haytham accidentally tipped the last of it too quickly. He tried to raised his hand to wipe the droplets off but a sharp pain stopped him. Fearing that he'd do damage, he let his arm drop.
"My apologies," said Haytham, using his handkerchief to wipe it up.
He felt Ratonhnhaké:ton's forehead for a moment, making sure it wasn't overly warm. It was unsettling to see his father assuming a physically caring role. It was something he'd wanted as a child, something he'd wanted during his first change, and now that he had it, he wasn't sure how to react. In this cabin, they were not enemies, but not exactly pack nor close family.
"You rescued me from the snow and the men."
Haytham tensed, his movements stilted as he took Ratonhnhaké:ton's cup to refill it. He pressed the full cup to his son's lips, letting him drink some more before answering. There had been the tiniest tremble of fear in Ratonhnhaké:ton's words, a flutter over 'men', a recoil from a horrible memory.
"I did," Haytham agreed, setting the half-full cup on the table.
He stroked Ratonhnhaké:ton's hair, was reminded of Ziio's silky plaits, and knelt next to the bed.
"They won't bother you again, Ratonhnhaké:ton."
Ratonhnhaké:ton was still, pretending to mull over the words, when in reality he was enjoying his hair being petted. He knew the men were dead. He still wasn't sure why his father had rescued him, but he had and Ratonhnhaké:ton was alive because of it. For now he could trust him.
"Thank you, Rake'níha."
Rake'níha smiled and gave his pup a gentle kiss to his temple.
Fill: Wolf-Father 4/?
***
Waking wasn't as unpleasant as he'd been expecting. A warm fur was bundled next to him on one side and a veritable nest of pillows were on the other, flush against the wall. His chest ached terribly and his lungs burnt as if he'd poured straight whiskey into them but overall, he felt better than before he was attacked.
The last embers of a fire glowed in the hearth, it's thick smoky scent not entirely carried away by the flue. Underneath that smell was a distinct herb that the clan elders had chewed on, and Ratonhnhaké:ton spotted small bunches tied up to dry off a narrow bed built into the wall. There was another one above it - they both had a railing of some sort to stop its occupants from falling; the bottom, a third bed, was on the floor and was lacking in this regard. Access to the top bunk was by the tall ladder leaning against the headboards or by the internal half-balcony that jutted over the fireplace. Ratonhnhaké:ton guessed there was storage above as the ground floor of the cabin was crammed full of more beds; there were seven in all.
It was neat, except for one corner (that smelt familiar but Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn't place it), and dry. His clothes were soaking in several buckets and his weapons systematically laid out to be taken stock of and cleaned. He couldn't place the human scents - he knew them, but they were missing something that would identify them. There was fear (faint, years ago, a first shift? He hadn't realised how long that mark could stay upon a house) but it was mostly happiness and play. One was the strongest, one had been here the longest - had overseen the cabin being built - slept here for more full moons than any of the other seven occupants.
Haytham. Without malice or stress. A strong alpha providing a place of leisure and comfort for his pack. He was in total control of this area.
The fur next to him sighed and a large black and grey head nuzzled onto his shoulder, eyes closed. Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at the wolf (Haytham, it had to be Haytham, it couldn't be anyone else) in shock. He was huge. Even Duncan wasn't this big and he had been a werewolf for a lot longer than the rest of the assassins. Now aware that his father was next to him, Ratonhnhaké:ton went still. He had to get out. Get back to his own pack. His chest throbbed in reply - he wasn't going anywhere.
The wolf opened his eyes in a disapproving manner and made a yowling noise. It almost sounded like 'no' - it probably was. A large paw covered Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes, turning into a human hand, and the bed shifted as Haytham edged off it, padding over to a chest. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't keep his eyes shut. While he took no pleasure from seeing his father naked, he needed to know what he was going up against and that he was not embarrassed by the sight of another man nude.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton, it is rude to stare. Especially if they're not part of your pack and they're getting dressed after a shift," scolded Haytham. "Under the circumstances I will ignore it, but if it happens again I will nip your ear - whether you're injured or not!"
"How did you say that? What are ear nips?" asked Ratonhnhaké:ton and he winced at how hoarse his voice was.
"Your name? You taught me while I was attempting to rejuvenate your fluids. As for ear nips, they're to keep your pack under control. It's protocol discipline."
Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't know werewolves had protocol like that. There was hierarchy, yes, but never as formally acknowledged as this. Still, he did not look away; Haytham was a fast dresser, already to his waistcoat.
"I am sure you have many questions to ask of me, Ratonhnhaké:ton -" It was clear that Haytham enjoyed saying his name now that he knew how. "- and I will answer them in due time. However the most important thing will be to know that you are safe here. As long as you refrain from killing me, I will refrain from smothering you with your pillow."
Haytham tossed a few logs into the fireplace and coaxed it back to life. The room became brighter, not that either of them really needed it, but it was pleasant and required for tea. Ratonhnhaké:ton had a dislike for British tea - too burnt-tasting - and always kept a pouch of it on his belt. Ratonhnhaké:ton watched carefully as Haytham prepared the drink. A cry left his lips as he saw a few drops of black liquid be splashed into his cup.
Sighing (this seemed to be the default gesture for a Haytham not in the middle of a fanatical and pompous rant), Haytham sipped Ratonhnhaké:ton's tea. Paranoia, while it served them well in the field, was truly irritating when attempting to bring one's mortal enemy and child back to full health.
"I would question the sanity of a man who tried to kill an injured man he'd just paid two doctors to treat," murmured Haytham.
Obediently, Ratonhnhaké:ton sipped at the offered cup, his dry throat welcoming the horrible liquid (British tea! Urgh), spilling a bit down his chin as Haytham accidentally tipped the last of it too quickly. He tried to raised his hand to wipe the droplets off but a sharp pain stopped him. Fearing that he'd do damage, he let his arm drop.
"My apologies," said Haytham, using his handkerchief to wipe it up.
He felt Ratonhnhaké:ton's forehead for a moment, making sure it wasn't overly warm. It was unsettling to see his father assuming a physically caring role. It was something he'd wanted as a child, something he'd wanted during his first change, and now that he had it, he wasn't sure how to react. In this cabin, they were not enemies, but not exactly pack nor close family.
"You rescued me from the snow and the men."
Haytham tensed, his movements stilted as he took Ratonhnhaké:ton's cup to refill it. He pressed the full cup to his son's lips, letting him drink some more before answering. There had been the tiniest tremble of fear in Ratonhnhaké:ton's words, a flutter over 'men', a recoil from a horrible memory.
"I did," Haytham agreed, setting the half-full cup on the table.
He stroked Ratonhnhaké:ton's hair, was reminded of Ziio's silky plaits, and knelt next to the bed.
"They won't bother you again, Ratonhnhaké:ton."
Ratonhnhaké:ton was still, pretending to mull over the words, when in reality he was enjoying his hair being petted. He knew the men were dead. He still wasn't sure why his father had rescued him, but he had and Ratonhnhaké:ton was alive because of it. For now he could trust him.
"Thank you, Rake'níha."
Rake'níha smiled and gave his pup a gentle kiss to his temple.