Imara Diversifies The Beastmen World

Chapter One Hundred and Forty: Awaiting Court

After getting dressed, I went back to the infirmary to thank Mr. Orangutan, and check on the tiger male Rosa had discarded.

When we walked in, the tiger was still in his beast form, sprawled out on a grassbed. His breathing was shallow, his chest barely rising.

I had this strange, awful impulse to poke him and ask, "Are you dead?" But I didn't. I won over that impulse.

I walked closer, and his eyes found me. Still glossy. Still lost. He looked like he was barely holding on, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of pity for him.

I think... he might really die.

I sighed, folding my arms. "You were wrong for targeting my loved ones," I said softly. "But I also know it was Rosa that pushed you to do it." I looked at him—really looked at him.

"I don't know if fighting for your life is something you even want right now... but I'll try. After that, what you do is up to you."

He let out a weak hum. I didn't know what it meant, but I let it be.

Turning from him, I glanced around the room. "Mr. Orangutan?" I called, walking slowly through the infirmary, scanning for him.

As I passed a table stacked with supplies, I took in a deep breath—and slowed in my tracks. The scent... it reminded me of home. Back in Camel Hump and of my love, Harvey. How he moved when he was healing someone—never rushed. Always focused. Hands steady. His voice soft, calm, like the wind through tall grass blowing gentle warm air over you.

I wanted to hold him. Smell him. Feel his hands all over me. Get lost in those serene, lagoon-beach eyes of his... and the way he said my name like it was sacred.

Then I thought of Horace. Those beautiful gray highlights in his jet-black hair that I love to run my finger through. The love sickness that lingered in his eyes whenever he looked at me. His soft lips. Those tender, affectionate sounds he made just for me. The weight of power that rolled off him—constant, even when he was doing nothing at all.

My heart ached deeply for both of them.

I can't wait for Harvey and Horace to come home.

I stepped deeper into the room, lost in memory. "Is he in here?" I asked Winston and Gabriel, glancing back.

They nodded, and then I heard it.

"Mm."

I turned toward the sound. He was stepping out from a back room—still in his animal form, towering and calm as ever.

"Oh—hi," I said, voice lighter than I expected. "I just... wanted to thank you. For the robe. And for tending to the tiger male. I really love the robe—it's so nice. But I especially love the scarf." I did a small twirl, the fabric swaying with me. "It matches your fur."

I caught myself. He was blind. A flicker of guilt tugged at me—that was insensitive and offensive of me. I thought about apologizing, but didn't, not wanting to poke at a thorn in his side.

Instead, he gave a slow nod and reached out his hand. I almost climbed into it on instinct, but caught myself. He was just holding something.

I walked over. It was my scent cloth. I took it gently, sniffed it, and smiled. "Thank you."

He turned to head back toward the spare room, and I began to walk away, then paused. "Are you not coming?" I asked. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

He paused mid-step and simply nodded his head, and I took that as a yes.

I smiled. "Great."

Just as we were about to leave, someone entered through the doorway.