PATRON SHOUT OUT: Sending a big wave to Sravanthi for suggesting the beautiful name "Sarayu." I hope you enjoy who I made her to be!
If you'd like to support me on P A T R E O N to read unpublished material, receive exclusive content and giveaways, or have the chance to name a character, go to: p a t r e o n.com/authoraimee!
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NAME PRONUNCIATION: Sarayu is Sah-RAH-yew
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~ HARTH ~
Harth bristled and opened her mouth to snap her teeth at the female, but Tarkyn just chuckled.
"Good to see you, too, Sarayu." When Harth gaped at him—why would he let a female talk to him like that?—he winked at her. "Sarayu has been healing me and my men since before the war. Don't worry, she snaps her beak a lot, but she'll tear apart anyone who hurts us."
Sarayu grinned and made no argument to that, and her body shivered in a way that reminded Harth of a bird fluffing their feathers, but she turned a glare on the guards as she stalked towards Tarkyn. "All of you, out—except his mate. I need him relaxed. And he can't do that if you're all here needing your asses wiped."
The soldiers laughed and ducked their chins in submission to her.
With her back to the other males, she caught Harth's eyes and winked.
Harth stifled a grin, though the urge was still within her to snap at the female for calling her mate an idiot.
As the soldiers saluted to Tarkyn, then turned to march out of the cave and down the trail, Sarayu put a hand to Tarkyn's shoulder and urged him down onto the furs he'd just spread out.
"Get off your feet. Now."
A growl puttered in Harth's throat—the female was touching her mate! But before she could order her away, Tarkyn sagged to the floor and the woman stopped touching him, unslinging the bag from around her shoulder, muttering to them both beneath the hearing of the guards on the trail.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid to keep pushing yourself, Tark. If an adolescent challenged you right now you'd lose."
"No one's going to challenge me," he sighed, wincing as he settled his aching body down on the furs. "They know I'm tired, but I haven't let them see—"
"Alpha male bullshit," the woman muttered with a glance at Harth. "Good luck with this one, he's as stubborn as the day is long, and refuses to believe he isn't invincible. One day the Creator will decide he needs it proven to him."
"That day almost arrived," Harth said seriously. She was tired. Weary. Her body ached with tension. But she knew she would sleep and wake tomorrow ready to face the day. But the weakness and the pain she felt in his body, the echoes of it through the incomplete bond, scared her.
He was reaching his limit again, and as Harth held herself back from snarling at the healer for touching him, uneasiness bubbled in her gut. Sarayu kept tsking and sighing, asking Tarkyn to move his joints in certain directions, then carefully doing it for him when he struggled.
"Drink. This second. While we're still working. Your body is dehydrated, Tarkyn. That alone will be causing half your pain."
Tarkyn sheepishly reached for the waterskin Harth had pulled out of the bag for him. "I know. We've just been busy—"
"Care for your body and find your strength, Tark. Or be weak and maybe die. I'm sure your mate would prefer not to lose you so quickly."
Harth felt a jolt through the bond and looked quickly at her mate, who stared at her as if he'd just seen her death. She moved to his other side so she wouldn't interfere with Sarayu's work, but took his hand, needing to touch him as much as he needed to touch her.
"New mates… you're beautifully sickening," Sarayu muttered, but she softened the words with a smile at Harth that faded quickly when she flexed Tarkyn's foot and his calf began to cramp. "The water isn't enough. He needs salt and sugar—do you have any of the sweet strips in there?"
Harth frowned. What were sweet—
"The dried meat that smells sweet," Tarkyn explained quickly.
Harth leaped for the bag to pull out some of the few meat strips and smell it, handing the two that smelled of honey to him. Tarkyn took it and began to chew like it was a task he'd been set.
"The fruit as well," Sarayu said grimly. "As much food as he can take before he sleeps—but slowly. Don't bolt it, Tark. You need to let your body take it in steadily. And keep drinking, too."
Tarkyn nodded.
"Is he… will he be—"
"If he'd stop pushing and let himself rest, he'd be fine in two days," Sarayu said, pulling up his eyelid and pursing her lips. "But if you can make him do it, I'll give you honor, Harth. He's one who doesn't like to bend."
Harth looked at Tarkyn, who rolled his eyes. "Doesn't have the opportunity to bend, you mean."
The woman kept examining him, but her movements slowed and she seemed less worried as he ate and drank. Then finally, she sat back on her heels and met Harth's eye.
"Sleep," she said firmly. "He needs no other… exertion tonight."
Harth coughed as Tarkyn growled. "That is none of your—"
"Wait a day, Tarkyn. It won't kill you. But not resting might."
Tarkyn snorted. "I find that hard to believe."
"You'll find nothing hard at all if you don't rest," she quipped, but even though she raised an eyebrow like it was a joke, Harth could see the tension in her. "Tarkyn, you are mortal. Complete the bond later. When you are properly capable and your mate won't have to do all the work."
She winked at Harth who couldn't decide whether to blush or laugh out loud.
But Tarkyn growled. "It's not your place—"
"You see," Sarayu said to Harth, ignoring him. "I will pray for you. When he digs his claws in I swear the male is immovable to any but the Creator Himself… and sometimes I wonder about that."
Tarkyn huffed and sighed, but Harth could feel his pride warring with his wisdom. She smiled and put a hand to his shoulder to soothe him.
"Thank you for helping him," she said to the healer. "And thank you for… not treating me like I'm an enemy."
"You smell strange, but no female made for this male could be an enemy," Sarayu said simply. "Besides, it's my job to put bodies back together, not tear them apart. As long as you don't hurt me, I won't hurt you. I will pray for you though. I'm not joking. He should have been a goat, the way he sticks his jaw out and refuses to move."
"Or a donkey?" Harth said, grinning.
"I know several equines that would take offense at that comment," Tarkyn added dryly around a mouthful of a juice pear. "Now, if you're both done talking about my flaws, I would like to do as my healer says and rest with my mate."
Harth's heart warmed at the look in his eyes when she looked down at him.