The Many Misadventures of Bo

Loss

Okay, who okayed these questions?

(No, I'm not gonna calm down! I've already answered too many prying, nosy, insensitive questions! I don't care that this whole experience is supposed to "humanise" us or whatever.)

Really? You promise? No more, for a year at least? And TCBNN is going to up my compensation credits? Fine, I guess. Can you edit this? It's live? Oh, well. You get what you get.)

I suppose we can continue. You all already know about the worst thing that happened to me as a kid, so why not explore it a little further? Let's see . . . Oh, yes! It happened on one fine 'tween frix day:

---

Bo crept through the understorey of the Hinnom forest on all fours. As keen as Ossu'un and Sh'rah's hearing was, he was quieter than a breeze on a still night when shifted to s'hinoian form. They might still notice the leaves rustling as he backed away if he wasn't careful, so he made each step measured and deliberate, avoiding the twigs that could crack if he misplaced a paw.

The twins didn't seem to notice him slipping away, too engrossed in a rowdy game with their friends, and once Bo was sure he was out of earshot, he turned and scampered through the forest, letting the wide leafy fronds and thick chishish trees swallow him up. He kept running until he reached the one place Nyss never let him come on his own.

Bo shifted to klia'an form to push aside the leaves revealing a living fence made of trees planted so close they entwined together, before unlatching the gate separating the clearing inside from the rest of the forest. His heart jumped, making his throat hurt as he peered through the resulting thin crack at the memorial markers within.

P'rraa's was at the far end of the clearing, a carefully sculpted pile of stones set around with sapisz gems reflecting the light seeping through the trees in a a brilliant blue. One gemstone was set in the ornamental wooden quirn embedded in the ground in front of the marker, announcing Bo's father as a warrior fallen in battle.

Bo was about to push the gate fully open when movement near the marker caught his eye. He pulled back, tucking himself into the pungent smelling wood of the living fence, hoping it wasn't Ossu'un and Shr'aa. But that would be silly. If they'd even noticed he was missing, they wouldn't think he'd come here. They didn't know him like Nyss did; it was good for Bo that his older brother had left the rather less observant twins in charge of him while on his trading trip.

So if the person within wasn't one of his brothers, who was it? Bo peeked inside again, and the sunlight flashed off something yellow, now right in front of P'rraa's marker. Bo gasped in outrage, and wasted no time tearing open the gate, marching up to the intruder, and wrenching him away.

"How dare you be here!?" he hissed at Kenton. Kenton's eyes went wide, and he stumbled back, knocking into P'rraa's marker. Bo growled at him and Kenton held up one hand placatingly.

"I, I, I just wanted," he stammered, gulping several times. "I'm sorry. I don't—My umama and pa and Annie—the Innah never found their bodies, and there's no place to even visit them. This"—tears spilled from Kenton's eyes, and he wavered, looking like he might fall—"this is the closest thing I have."

He took a deep breath, backing up as Bo stalked closer. "Your pa died trying to rescue me, so I come here to say thank you to him. And sorry."

Bo crossed his arms, pinning his ears flat against his head. "The Innah lets you come here alone?" His throat was so tight he could hardly get the words out. Kenton obviously understood the idea of guilt, else he wouldn't be crying, but if he was truly sorry, he wouldn't dare to defile the Memorial Circle with his icky human presence.

Kenton shook his head. "No, I snuck out while she was trying to comb Seri's mane. She never lets me visit. She thinks it'll make my bad dreams worse. But—" He clenched his fist, and Bo noticed for the first time the limp flowers trying to escape his grasp. "I thought maybe if I could just apologise it might make them go away. After all, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

"I should think so," Bo snarled, advancing further until Kenton was pressed against the wall. "You need to leave. Now."

"Can I just?" Kenton lifted his hands and gestured at P'rraa's marker. "I won't come back again."

Bo inspected the light blue blossoms Kenton offered to him. They were the exact same shade as the sapisz stones arranged around the marker.

"Did you steal these from healer Laedr?"

Kenton drew himself up, affronted. "I would never! When I was ill with Raxilsish she brought them, since the regen-rig would just have made me sicker. But I didn't use all of them. I know they won't do much good." His eyes filled again with tears which he quickly wiped away. "I thought maybe, maybe if they take pain away, they could help somehow."

Bo stepped back and then motioned for Kenton to approach the marker. The fact that Kenton had saved the rare flowers to place within the Memorial Circle instead of using them cure his own pain—the gesture tugged at Bo's anger, calming it.

"I'm sorry," Kenton said again, dropping to his knees and touching the wooden quirn reverently before laying the delicate petals out one by one. Bo had to admit, P'rraa's marker looked nice with the flowers. "Thank you. For giving me a second chance. For protecting everyone."

Bo sat down cross-legged next to Kenton. It still burned him to see a human paying respects to his father, but Kenton's feelings were genuine, he could sense it. Only sorrow and regret and gratitude tinged his scent, no notes of falsehood. Now that he was paying attention, Bo was startled to discover that the sour tang he always associated with Kenton had actually been coming from him.

"P'rraa was the best," he said suddenly. "He used to recite the stories to me and act out all the parts with all the voices. And on the days he was too tired, he'd light his quirn and do shadow figures."

"I wish you could have had more time with him."

"You too. With your 'pa' I mean," Bo said, scooting closer to Kenton. "Tell me about him?"

Kenton looked at Bo in surprise, eyebrows scrunching together and mouth dropping open. But slowly, haltingly, he started to speak, and Bo found he didn't quite mind the human after all.

---

So there you have it. Yes, we bonded over our dead dads. Shared trauma and all that. Looking back on it, it seems so silly that I hated Ken for so long when we had so much in common. That's being a kit for you a guess. Irrational reactions to rational feelings. Enemies one day, best friends the next.

Alright, I'm nearing the end of my patience, and I'm hungry, so why don't we skip down the list and pick a few questions from near the end before I go feral and eat everyone here.

That was a joke.

Maybe.