Lyseria gripped her daughters hair tightly, tugging as she pulled the brush through.
"Mother," she winced, "why are so cruel to him?"
She perked up at the word cruel. "I am uncertain I understand what you mean." Lyseris brushed strands of hairs from her buckhide dress that was white as river sand; with several strips of leather hanging from her chest, sleeves, and around the lining of her skirt. "I find Zoar very…feral."
"Feral?" She replied sharply. "As a wolf?"
Lyseria batted her long, thick eyelashes. "Feral is not always a bad thing, My Child." She threw the comb on the dresser. "The Wayward Warrior was feral, and we tell tales of his courage."
"And will you tell of his courage? How he fought fathers war—led his people—and forced the Howl Chief back to his territory. Will you tell tales of this?"
Lyseria smiled sorely. "The tales have already spread amongst our people in Totem. Zoar's bravery is known." She took a deep breath, staring off.
"Then why do you not respect him?" She asked. "Why do you forbid our marriage?"
"Forbid—"
"Mother...Do not try to pull sheeps skin over my eyes." Lyolis shook her head. "I am not as blind as you believe me to be. And you see as clearly as our ancestors above that I love him and he loves me." She grabbed her wrist. "Give us your blessing. It'll mean the world to him. All that he does, he does it for your approval."
Lyseria laughed. "For my approval?" She grabbed her hair, rubbing the braids between her hands. "That is where you're wrong, My Child. It is your approval he seeks."
"He already has my approval—"
"But does he believe it?" Lyseria shrugged. "A man's mind believes what a man's mind wants to believe— and usually what he believes is coming from a man above."
Silence fell across the room, giving Lyolis time to reflect. "Meaning what exactly?"
"I'm not certain you're ready to hear this…"
"Tell me."
Lyseria sighed. "You've got much to learn, My Child." She patted her shoulder. "I was young and naive once too."
"Tell me mother. Tell me what you think you know."
Lyseria kneeled allowing their earthy eyes to greet. "Zoar's father is the chief of the black bear tribe—in order to keep our families at peace, it'd make sense for his son to get the approval of the Chief and Chieftess of Grizzlies."
"And this is why you oppose him?" She asked.
"Father approves of him."
"As do I, for the same reason your father does. We need them as our allies. The wolf tribes want war; they are massing and will try to reclaim Totem, and restore what we took."
Every muscle in Lyolis's body ached. "My marriage is not to be used to gain power."
"Yet there is no stronger purpose...Like it or not, My Child, your marriage serves your father purpose. I do not disapprove of the boy—I pity you both for your misfortune—"
"Misfortune? Mother, we love each other. Why can't you not see this?"
"If it was only for love than why would he seek my approval? My opinions about him, nor the opinions of your fathers, should matter to him." Her eyes dropped. "I know this because I thought married your father for love."
"You did," Lyolis said, "and you live him dearly."
"I do. And he does me, though I was unable to bore him a son; he still kept me and did not seek a new companion. Though he should've, the fool."
"It was not your fault, mother…"
Lyseria's face wrinkled, "it was my fault...I am the only one at fault." She walked towards the window and glanced outward. "And I hope, for your sake, I have not passed the curse onto you. I worry what will become of you if you cannot have children...If Zoar will be as forgiven."
No matter how much she wanted to believe that Zoar would stick by her side, Lyolis knew her mother made a valid point. One day Zoar would become the Chief, ruler of Totem, and she would be his Chieftess. Without a son he could no longer pass down the war bonnet to his blood; their laws allowed for him to choose a new wife if that were the case; a new chieftess. And where would that leave me? she wondered.
"You're wrong to disapprove of him for this reason alone."
"I have many reasons to question who you should marry." She admitted. "But like you will learn one day, we women have little say in a world run by men."
Lyolis watched as her mother headed for the door. "Curious," she said, "did he tell you what happened to his eye?"
The question hit Lyseria in the gut like a fist. "He said not to worry…"
"And does that bring you comfort?" she asked. "If so, you have more to learn than I feared…" The door swung open. "Gather you things, the train will leave shortly."
It took Lyolis thirty minutes to gather up her things and bring them downstairs to be loaded in the carriage. "
There she is," the Chief smiled bright as the sun overhead. "We've been waiting for you." Even in the heat, Leofort wore his bear head crown, the fur draping down over his body. There was hardly a day didn't have it on; and because of it, some called him the Wikai Chief: The chief who worries for his crown. "Hop on in, My little Chieftess."
"Sama'sei, father."
He stood by the carriage door always the largest man around; some believed he had the blood of a bear. Even his head of hair, and the ones that sprouted from his arms and chest, were brown and thick as Grizzly's fur. And he had on the thickest buckhide shirt, trousers, and moccasins made in the Cyoakian territory.
"And where's my little Chief at?"
"Father," Lyolis wined, looking around to make sure nobody heard him, which was impossible because he spoke loud as cannon fire. "We spoke about this...Leofort feels inferior when you call him that."
"Oh, yes," He rubbed his forehead working the memory back into his mind. "I've forgotten." He leaned his head back and roared with laughter. "Good thing he's nowhere to be found." He put his hand over his eyes and searched the horizon. "Nope. Nowhere."
Lyolis couldn't help but giggle.
It wasn't her father's fault for acting the way he was. Since she was young, all he ever spoke about was having a son; the realization of never having one hit him like an arrow, that is, until Zoar came into their lives. "He's like the son I never had," he'd wept.
"Where's mother?" Lyolis looked around. "She told me to hurry and she's not here—"
As if she'd been summoned, Lyseria came out of the INN accompanied by Zoar, using him to do her deed; in his hands and around his shoulders were stuffed buckhide packs. And though heavy, he carried them with ease, standing upright and unphased under the pressure.
"Lyseria!" Father grumbled. "What is the meaning of this? We have bag men, or whatever they're called."
"Coachmen, father." Lyolis snapped, eyeing mother as he was.
"It's not a problem, Chief." The boy heaved the bags into a box strapped to the back. "It's good to be worked."
"Nonsense." The Chief said. "You're to be my son, and no son of mine will be worked like a mule."
Lyseria smirked, "he said he didn't mind, Chief. Besides, we had a little...talk."
Talk? Lyolis felt her eyelids pull. Talk about what?
The Chief crossed his arms, "you best not be scaring him off, Lyseria."
"Me," she placed a hand to her chest, "nonsense. Our ancestors would never have it."
Zoar laughed, "and neither would I." He winked at his care spirit. "She and I are already bound, even if not by law."
Lyolis felt her cheeks go red.
Lyseria stepped up into the carriage. "Suddenly I feel ill." She whipped her hair and disappeared inside.
Who asked you, Lyolis thought.
After they'd packed the coach full of bags, some resting on top, the coachman whipped the reins and they were off. The ride was short and quiet for the most part, except for the occasional chuckles from the Chief who watched a coyote wandering helplessly through town.
"Brainless as a wolf," He laughed. "Seems all dogs are like that."
"Indeed." Mother agreed, glaring at Warclaw. He didn't seem to notice but Lyolis couldn't have missed it even if she was blind with sheeps wool.
They arrived at the train station that was already filling up with passengers from all over Civiland; most on their way to Sundown City while few were heading as far south as Durahgo. It was a madhouse. Bodies everywhere, chattering loudly, all trying to make certain their items made it aboard the train.
Lyolis got out first followed by Zoar. "Can I have word?" She asked, pulling him by the wrist before he could say no.
He looked around suspiciously. "What is it?"
"You and my mother. What did you speak about?"
Zoar's lips sunk. "Nothing to be concerned about." He grabbed her shoulder. "I don't know what you said, but she was very kind to me."
"Kind?"
He nodded, "yes, kind—"
Something drew his attention; Lyolis followed his gaze. His eyes were drawn on a group of people; one boy in particular. A large boy nearly taller than her father; Zoar looked to him intensely, with the spirit she had never known.
"Is everything ok?"
Zoar smirked. "Yes. I believe everything will be just fine."