❝bare your teeth, little one, for you are made of stardust and divinity.❞
It is said, in the era before the mother of our mothers, when the ancients first built their ruins, we were not alone in this world. Creatures flitted through the skies above...
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Tip turned and, if it weren't for the sudden presence of Ituha's nails digging into the soft flesh of his arm, he would have bolted.
However, because Ituha had grabbed Tip—his hand wrapped around Tip's bicep, clinging to him with a ferocity only before known in the most stubborn of burs and vices—instead of running back towards the camp, back towards their home that was now under attack, Tip teetered dangerously forward. He might have toppled over if Ituha had not used his other hand to steady him.
Tip still turned on Ituha, though, his mouth curled with the threat of a snarl.
It seemed an act of utter betrayal. Ituha—who was always so careful to never touch Tip without his consent, who would never so much as let their hands brush when they walked side by side—was clutching to Tip and he was not letting go. Ituha—who was always so eager to protect their herd even at the cost of his own life, who would do anything to keep those he loved safe—was preventing Tip from protecting the place they both cared so deeply for.
"Let go," Tip said. His ears were flat against his skull, but they had been for a while now. His tail thrashed behind him, making threats Tip did not wish to follow through on.
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Ituha glared. "You're going to do something stupid if I let go."
"I am going to help."
Ituha's own ears flattened. His tail matched Tip's in tempo. "It's too dangerous. You should stay here and hide until it's over."
"No," Tip said. "I have magic. The gift to protect my herd." He could feel the way his lips had peeled back, into something that was almost a smile, though there was none of the accompanying joy. This was the simple act of baring his teeth. "I will not hide."
"Have you considered that it isn't just our herd there?" Ituha asked. "There are two others and they might not want your protection." He shook his head. "You and my aunt speak of the importance of stars and the wisdom of the dead but when was the last time either of you heeded their advice?"
Tip felt some of the anger and betrayal melt. It dripped from his bones as he stared at Ituha. "What?" he asked.
"You told us that the ancestors had relayed a prophecy. One where you would die if you did not gain the trust of the two other herds," Ituha said. "I think this was the event foretold. The other herds, they might mistake you for an enemy. They might just not care enough to tell the difference." The words fell from his lips, each one coming out faster and more breathily than the last. His grip seemed to grow tighter with each. "Please. Don't go."
