The Beast Within Us

Chapter 31: ⑄ Chala

⑄Chala walked the way to Darryn in silence, listening intently to the conversation that'd begun between the warden and Rando. The boy explained her friend's condition, sick and ailing upon his bed and calling out for his love in the throes of his fever. It pierced the tigress' heart, and though she would never regret her feelings for Yara, a cold ball of guilt weighed in the pit of her stomach for so completely forgetting her friend and his illness. She hadn't gone to see him that morning, or the morning past, and now he might be–

Her morbid train of thought was interrupted as they finally made it to the soldier's tent, Yara brushing quickly past to go and see Darryn and leaving Chala and the squire behind with guards. The huntress heard Yara exclaim upon seeing the captain, and, concerned for the health of her comrade, Chala moved forward to make her way into the tent as well. But she was stopped just before she could enter, the two silent guards now glaring and blocking her way with their lance handles. Outraged, her pupils contracted to onyx slits wrapped in stormy gray as she scowled at the ones who blocked her path.

"What is the meaning of this?" she hissed, voice low and deadly in the face of her opposition. "Why do you stand between me and my ailing comrade?"

One guard frowned but made no move to explain his behavior, while the other, stone faced and sharp eyed, spoke.

"You are not permitted entry, hewan," he said, condescension dripping from every syllable. "The cause of Captain Wykle's sickness is unidentified. The doctor has only allowed for a specific list visitors. You are, among other things, not on that list," he sneered and pushed her back with the butt end of his spear. The huntress growled low as she was bodied away from the entrance and stubbornly walked right back to where she had been standing before. The two men stood solidly in front of the tent flap, so she couldn't shoulder past them without bumping into, and potentially knocking over, the small buckskin structure. Chala's eyes pierced the ones of the man that'd spoken before.

"To what other things do you refer, soldier?" she asked, and he happily obliged.

"I suppose you wouldn't know, hewan, that animals carry viruses deadly to humans." The guard spat near her feet, but the tigress did not flinch or even break their steady gaze. The man's eyes flashed with anger and aggravation. "Captain Wykle didn't start acting this way until you came along, and it's no secret how often he hung around you. Mayhap you gave it to him? Mayhap one of us is next?" As if to prove his point, the guard stood straighter and gripped his lance tightly. "Clear off, fur wench."

"Stand down!"

The tigress might have come to blows over the matter, hands clenched so tightly that her claws bit into the skin of her palms, if her lover had not intervened when she did. The two guards balked in surprise, but moved aside begrudgingly, as if it hurt them physically to see the hewan woman walk into the tent to see their captain. Chala paid them little to no mind as she rushed in to see her friend.

To say that Darryn was at death's door would be an understatement. There were, perhaps, no words to describe the haggered husk of a man he'd become within the past few hours. As the lead hunter of her enclave and the sister of their appointed medic and shaman, Chala had seen plenty of sickness and injury in her lifetime. She'd become almost desensitized to the sight of either. But gazing upon her friend struggling to breath through the very blood that had once given him life, and her love wailing over his dying body, reawakened a raw sadness in the tigress as she knelt across from Yara on the other side of him.

Her warden's outbursts barely fazed Chala, as she focused upon the dying form of Darryn. She flinched at every wracking cough and the flecks of blood that remained after them, but no words escaped her even as Yara pleaded with Darryn not to strain himself. A silent, comforting figure she remained during his passing as well, clutching his thin, cold hand in her own and offering a small prayer. Cheeks equally as tear stained as Yara's, Chala moved from Darryn's side to Yara's and placed a hand upon her back as she grieved. It took a while, but the huntress did manage to pry her warden from Darryn's dead body so that the soldiers could enter to collect the corpse. She was unsure of when his burial would be. Most likely the next morning.

Chala carried Yara to her caravan, cradled to her chest as the other woman continue to weep. They would postpone moving out until the next day, so the two immediately retreated to bed. Familiar with loss, the hewan woman held her lover through her grieving, rubbing her back, kissing her forehead, and whispering love and reassurance until the wardeness had fallen soundly asleep.

It seemed neither of the two women had noticed Chala's collar unlock seconds after Darryn passed, falling to the floor with a dull thump that had echoed the final beat of his heart. ⑄