Rivers of Gold

Chapter 3

We've been travelling for 3 days now. Stopping only once for Crimson to hunt a large enough animal to fill up the meat-storage in the kitchen. Though the kitchen is deceivingly small, as the storage compartments can store a crap ton of stuff.

I had even left the scarab, to which it followed me like a guarding hound, as I moved around the forest with an identifier, collecting root vegetables and fruits that were safe to eat. My pup stayed with me the entire time, curled up in a silk sling, slung around my torso.

But now we were back within the safe confines of the scarab, where I was now curled up in the arms of a sleeping Crimson. It was really strange at first when we first shared the bed, thanks to neither of us wanting the other to sleep on the floor. But now, I am starting to get comfortable. He was warm and comforting, and as I lay in his arms, it brings me back to the memory of being held flush to Shadows front as he slept peacefully within our nest.

It honestly brings a smile to face, knowing that Crimson is willing to comfort me in that very same way. He even purrs when I struggle to sleep from traumatic memories plaguing my mind, or exhaustion from eventually getting Goldlock to sleep. Yes, that's my baby boy's new name now.

Goldlock is in every sense, in Crimsons words, a spitting image of me. Though I disagree. He had a tail much like his dad, and horn nubs, and little furry ears.

He is much like his dad, not only in looks. He's got Shadow's cheekiness, humour, and, dare I say it, stubbornness. Like when he refuses to sleep without a crappy lullaby from myself.

Rolling my eyes, I looked up at Crimsons sleeping face. He looked peaceful, though I knew otherwise. He was constantly looking out for me, now as well as Goldlock. I frowned at the thought of how hard it must be, and softly nuzzled his chest.

He deserves love too. He had a similar life to Shadow, except the abuse happened from his sire, and how he had to fight, and kill, his own siblings to survive.

From the stories he had told me over the past few days, he had killed dozens of his own brothers and sisters. And not only for food scraps, but he was also the only one who mercy killed. His sire often seeded his own daughters or granddaughters, leaving Crimson, even as an adult, to mercy kill his younger, deformed siblings.

And that isn't the worst of it.

Crimson has a son.

Not had. Has.

Though, since his sire didn't care much about his pups, until they had either reached a matable age or had earned enough respect like Crimson, he let them go. Free to leave, and then return as adults.

That's how Crimson's son came to be. Him and the female didn't know that they were actually siblings. Not at all. So they had grown close, and eventually had a son together. Though their son was only very small when their sire, the former King, had found them, told them that they were actually siblings, and had tried to claim his own daughter.

She died in their fight, leaving Crimson alone with his pup.

I don't know where his son is, but Crimson doesn't talk about him often. He just says that they talk on occasion, and that his son is with an honourable clan, thriving against all odds.

So nuzzling Crimsons chest again, I closed my eyes, and sighed. I need to get more sleep. I have a bad feeling about tomorrow...

***

"It's a merchant town. We can find the parts I need for communications, and call for help", Crimson said, strapping on his chest plate. I nodded slowly, rocking Goldlocks cradle gently, keeping him asleep.