Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 02 (Patreon)

Trembor entered this parent’s house to screams.

“How could you do that?” His father yelled.

“Because it’s my own fu—” his brother started, volume just as loud.

“Don’t you swear in the house Bolifen Goldenmane, I won’t have it.”

“Of Course you won’t!” Bo yelled. “You won’t let me do anything! I don’t even live here anymore and you’re still trying to run my life!”

Trembor hurried to the living room, ignoring Cerek’s head shaking from the kitchen’s doorway.

“I’m trying to keep you from ruining it!” Torim yelled. “You have sons you need to look after, you shouldn’t be wasting your time and money on that!”

“Don’t you—”

Trembor forced himself between the two lions as Bo raised a hand. “Okay, why don’t you two take a breath and step away from each other?” As gently as he could, he pushed them apart. His brother growled at him. “I know it’s a family dinner,” Trembor said, “but I thought we were eating what the female brought back, not each other.”

Neither smiled at his joke.

“Any idea when they’ll be back?” Trembor asked his father.

Torim stopped glaring at Bolifen only long enough to shake his head. “They left an hour and a half ago.”

Trembor took his brother’s arm and pulled him toward the exit. “Why don’t you come with me so dad can go back to his reading until the females get back?”

Bo bared his teeth at their father before letting Trembor lead him out.

“What was that?” Trembor hissed as they entered the kitchen where Cerek and Juress washed dishes. “Baring your teeth at dad like that? Did you turn into a cub all of a sudden?”

“I might as well for the way that old male’s treating me.”

Trembor noted the other two’s folded back ears, and tail hugging their legs. “Okay, what happened?”

“He just went off on me,” Bo said, pulling his arm out of Trembor’s grip. Ears still back in anger.

“Dad never ‘just goes off’ for no reason, Bo.”

“He blew up at me because I went to a gambling house a few days ago!” He threw the cooler’s door opened and took a bottle of blood out.

Cerek cringed. Juress took a glass out of the cupboard and placed it on the counter.

“You told him?” Trembor asked in disbelief. “Knowing his history with them?”

“I didn’t tell him, okay?” He messily filled the glass. “He said something about how horrible those places are, and I just said they weren’t that bad. He demanded to know how I’d know something like that, so I told him. There’s no reasoning with that male.”

“For a good reason,” Cerek grumbled.

“Oh, you’re going to take his side too?” Bo turned to face his brother and spilled more blood, tail lashing.

Trembor stepped between them. “He’s not taking sides, and you know it. And you know Dad’s right. If it wasn’t for Serene, we wouldn’t have this house anymore because he would have gambled it away. She’s who got my mom and yours to take him down and force him to stop. You know how sensitive he is about the subject, so many you can be more careful?”

“He started it!”

Trembor chuckled. “What are you, four?”

Bo’s ears went up in surprise, then back in embarrassment, almost vanishing into this golden mane.” He just…” he let out a breath, combing the front of his mane out of his eyes finally. “I get he had a problem, but I’m not him. I just go once in a while, drop a bit of money on a few games to relax after a hard day.” He shrugged. “It’s harmless fun.”

“He’s right,” Juress said,” there’s been research done, the adrenaline rush players get is similar to that of stalking prey.”

“Jur,” Cerek said, “don’t bring that up around my dad.”

“But it’s true,” the lion said, “there’s no indication that—”

“Jur,” Cerek warned. “Our father almost lost everything to gambling. It doesn’t matter how much scientific research there is. His life is the only evidence he’s going to go by. And that’s why I know Bo’s being careful with his gambling, if not his talking about it.”

Trembor looked at his relatives. “Can I count on the two of you to keep Bo and Dad out of each other’s way? I need to head upstairs and keep the cubs company.”

“We’re going to keep my brother in the kitchen, Cerek indicated the stone table in the middle of the room. “Tie him to the prep table if needed.”

“If you do that,” Trembor said, heading for the door, “Hide the knives, it might give dad ideas.” The closing door cut off Bo’s snarky reply and the other two’s speculation.

He heard the round of running doing up the stairs to the attic, and the scene matched once he entered. Everyone except for Isenson and Cialin, who looked stern as they supervised the others, ran after one another, and tussled on the floor to laughed and playful snarls.

Isenson seemed to have decided he wasn’t a cub anymore, now that his brother, Herelex, had moved on to the adult table, and he was learning to hunt with the females. Cialin, on the other hand, had always acted older than she was at eleven. She could already match Serene’s severity.

“Uncle Trembor,” a small bundle of fur in a blue dress ran at him, leaving behind her tussling companion. She climbed up his leg before he could pick her up. “Did you bring me a treat?” He cradled her in his arm as he walked to the old couch and sat.

“Not today,” he said, his words distorted by her pulling his lips up and checking his teeth.

Against his will, he found himself back on that day of Marlot’s first visit to his parent’s house for the family dinner. The wolf had sat on this couch, frozen in terror of all the cubs there as Dayra sat on his lap, looking at his teeth and going over proper dental hygiene. The wolf had had no idea what to do with them, and Trembor had just watched from the doorway, arm still in a cast, and falling more in love with him for allowing the cub to terrorize him like that.

“Is Uncle Marlot here today?” Miril asked, pulling Trembor out of the memory. Of all the cub’s she’d taken to the wolf the most.

Trembor swallowed the pain the memory and her question brought. “No, he isn’t. I told you last time, he won’t be coming anymore.”

The nine-year-old’s face fell. “Who at him?”

“What? No, no. No one ate him. I explain it. We just…” What had he said the last time? Right, the same thing he had to say now, and hope the cup understood. “It didn’t work out between us.”

“But you love him, don’t you?” Ronik asked.

Trembor swallowed. He didn’t want to go through this again, but Ronik’s family hadn’t been at the last dinner. He’d always answer the cubs’ questions, he’d promised himself years ago. He had yet to break it, he wasn’t going to do so today. “I did, but sometimes that isn’t enough.”

“Then you need to talk with him,” Cialin said, authority in her voice. “You have to sit down and work out what the problem is so you can fix it.”

You didn’t leave me any choice, Marlot said, looking and sounding saddened by having hacked Trembor pad.”

You didn’t leave me any choice” the other male had said, years before, looking and sounding saddened as he stood over Trembor, whose muzzle was bleeding, his blood on the other lion’s knuckles.

He shook the memory away and swallowed the anger that came with them. “Sometimes it doesn’t work.”

The too serious young female shook her head. “Serene says that when you have a problem, you sit down and you talk it over until you don’t have a problem anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Serene said that?”

Cialin nodded.

He couldn’t imagine the easiest to anger of his mothers advocating sitting down and talking. He’s heard how she and his father resolved their problem when he was a teen, and the level of shouting involve would never be considered talking. There were times he’d wondered if they loved each other, but after the shouting was done, they were always tender with each other. As he’d grown older, he’d decided that their ability to argue and scream at one another and then makeup and still be tender was the best way to define love.

He’d wished he and Marlot would have had something that resilient.

You didn’t leave me any choice.

But he knew the patterns; had learned them the hard way, and he wouldn’t let himself fall into them again.

The lump was back in his throat, and this time took multiple attempts before he could swallow it away. His eyes stung, but he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. That wolf didn’t deserve that; not after tricking him as he had.

The cubs sensed his discomfort and the next questions were about other things, simple things, even to a cub, Trembor thought and smiled, appreciating the work they put into distracting him. He answered them, listened of the adventures they’d had since the last family dinner, the cub speaking over each other to demonstrate who’s adventure had been the most adventurous, and quickly they were back to tussling and running around the attic. And with him there, even Isenson and Cialin allowed themselves to act their age and join in, although she required a little more prodding on his part.

When the sound of a closing door and voice of females reached the attic, the cubs rang down the stairs and Trembor followed them. He hugged his mothers and sisters. Herelex was bloody, but proudly carried his own kill. A small antelope. As the greetings ended, he noticed Bo and Cerek arguing away from everyone. Taking one of the horses over his shoulders, Trembor heading for them, acting as a barrier in case anyone else wanted to listen in.

“But I always help with the kills,” Bo pleaded softly.

“Yeah, but with the way you and dad are right now, it’s not a good idea,” Cerek replied. “You won’t be able to help it, you’ll say something and you’re going to be fighting again.”

“But it’s tradition, the oldest males prepare the kills. What’s it going to look like if I’m not there?”

“It’s going to look like you’re doing the smart thing,” Cerek replied, and Trembor was certain there was a ‘for once’ in there. Which wasn’t fair, but Cerek had been dealing with the two of them for a few hours before Trembor arrived, so he didn’t know how tired he was of this.

“Why don’t you cede your place to Herelex?” Trembor said before Bo commented. By his expression, he’d caught the unsaid sentiment too. “He’s your son, and I’m sure dad would love to see what you’ve taught him.”

Bo pushed the mane out of his eyes with both hands. “Okay, but just this once. I’m not letting dad chase me out of the kitchen.” He left to find his son.

“How long has he been going to the gambling house?” Cerek asked.

Trembor shrugged, going over what his brother had said. “It’s the first time I’ve heard about it, but he said he likes to go that after a hard day, so it wasn’t a one-time thing.”

Cerek sighed, then shook himself. “Come on, let’s get to the kitchen before someone decides we need replacing too.”

* * * * *

“Don’t be shy with it,” Torim said to Herelex, “it’s dead, it’s not going to complain.”

The young lion had taken three times as long as the older ones to skin his kill, but he had done a perfect job of it. He was still nervous, even if everyone else was discreet when looking at him work.

“Are you up on the Survivor show day?” Cerek asked.

The older lion shook his head. “I lost interest after last season. It’s just been more of the same as the last three. I think the show’s run its course.”

“They’re on one of the volcanic islands in the middle of the Fartern Ocean,” Trembor said. “It’s worth it just for the scenery, but I do agree with you. At this point, it’s getting predictable. The prey will do something to try to teach the predators that they don’t have to eat them, that they can get their meat from the ocean, or that bugs are meat too, a couple try it, at least one switches diet, but then they have enough and eat the prey.

“That’s how it should be,” Torim said.

“The whole thing’s fake anyway,” Cerek said. “There is no way they actually were on an island with a primitive tribe, not that they ever show them. There are rules governing what you can and can’t do with such tribes in the area.”

“The Fartern is outside every country’s jurisdiction,” Torim said. “One of the conservation groups would have to mount an offensive to keep the film and contestants from setting foot on the island.” He smiled. “Now that’s a show I’d watch. But no one tried to stop them, we’d know by now since that was filmed last year.”

“Do you and Marlot watch the show together?” Herelex asked.

Trembor cursed as the knife slid sideways and cut his finger.

“Herelex, that isn’t a subject we talk about in this house,” Torim said in a gentle tone.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Trembor opened a drawer and took the medical disinfectant and bandages from it. “It’s not going to sink in at the same time for everyone. We used to.” He winced at the stink of the disinfectant.

Herelex’s shoulder slumped. “Sorry, he whispered. I forgot.”

“As I said, it’s okay.”

“I liked him,” the young lion said quietly.

Trembor closed his eyes. The lump was back. If only liking, loving, someone was enough, but he’d had broken bones to prove that one-way love wasn’t a good thing. You didn’t leave me any choice.

He trimmed the fur away and bandaged the cut, then went back to his kill. This moment was about his family, and Marlot wasn’t a part of that anymore.

And that was for the best.

“I liked him,” the young lion said quietly.

Trembor closed his eyes. The lump was back. If only liking, loving, someone was enough, but he’d had broken bones to prove that one-way love wasn’t a good thing. You didn’t leave me any choice.

He shook himself, bandaged the cut, and went back to his kill. This was about him and his family, and Marlot was no longer part of that.

And that was for the best.

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